This Year's End Will Be Buzzing
This year's end is going to be the talk of the town.
After all — if they suspected plagiarism, why would anyone paint the story out themselves? Ten whole illustrations, no less, turning it into a full storyboard.
Every ounce of that effort had been spent for exactly this moment.
"Hajin... you're saying you came up with the idea?"
"If you don't brush me off for being a little kid, I'll show you."
At my serious expression, Director Park straightened up in his chair.
"I won't brush you off, I promise. Go ahead."
"One moment."
I went and fetched the sketchbook I'd drawn everything in.
"I'll explain as you look at the pictures."
"You drew these yourself?"
"Yes."
His face said, Not bad at all.
Ever since I regressed, my ability to express myself through my body had been improving by the day. Acting went without saying — first my singing took off, and now it was drawing. I had no plans to become a painter, but there was nothing wrong with adding another talent to the pile.
"It all begins in a strange sea that only comes up to your knees..."
Page by page, I walked him through it, fleshing out the scenes I'd performed in my dream with new detail. It didn't take long for his look of polite interest to melt into open awe.
At the scene where legs form the moment the boy steps forward on faith alone, he clenched his fist.
"...And it ends with the two of them embracing like this. I noticed in the old TTN commercials that text pops up on screen around this point — you can handle that however you like, Director."
I deliberately kept the copy line from my dream to myself. A six-year-old playing copywriter, too, seemed like a bridge too far.
"This... you're telling me this really came out of your head, Hajin?"
He pressed the question with a half-dazed look on his face. Even a total layman like me could tell the idea was impressive — imagine what it looked like to a professional like Director Park.
"I got it while reading the tale of Gyeonu and Jiknyeo — the cowherd and the weaver girl. When the two lovers can't meet across the Milky Way, magpies and crows build a bridge with their bodies, right? That gave me the idea that a transparent bridge would be even prettier."
I passed it off as the kind of picture game we play at kindergarten. The words flowed out so smoothly it was almost embarrassing — a con artist would've hung his head in shame. And Director Park, sitting there in front of me, was my first victim.
"You amaze me every single time I see you. This isn't just 'oh, I drew a little something' territory. Mind if I hold onto this sketchbook?"
He called the office on the spot and scheduled a production meeting right then and there. His face said it all: the moment the idea was on the table, he was pushing it through, fast and decisive.
I never imagined the butterfly effect of failing that audition would grow this large. I was about to star in a commercial every household in the nation knew, alongside a genius child actress. I'd solved the plagiarism crisis and become Director Park's savior. Now I'd handed him an ad concept that might well become a hit.
Things were going so smoothly it was almost unnerving.
Was this, too, a perk of being a regressor?
"Is it okay if I stay?"
"Of course it is. Watch the meeting closely, and if anything's different from what you pictured, speak up whenever you like."
And so I found myself thrust into the role of original creator, attending the production meeting in person. My plan had simply been to check the storyboard afterward and see how faithfully my dream had made it to paper, but Director Park had insisted I be there. The bizarre atmosphere of a chestnut-sized kid wedged into a room full of grown adults was thrown in free of charge.
"Director, be reasonable. The material is way too advanced for a kid to follow. Are we supposed to explain industry jargon to him, too?"
The art director grumbled, looking distinctly unhappy about the arrangement.
"Don't worry about it. Hajin's incredibly bright. I hear he reads difficult books all on his own."
Granted, I knew every term this industry used like the back of my hand. But Director Park, who had no way of knowing I'd regressed, had far too much faith in my abilities. Ever since I'd solved the plagiarism mess and pitched the idea, I'd become his golden boy.
Once the director put it that way, everyone else could only resign themselves, trading resigned glances before settling into their seats.
"The full shots won't show it, but the moment the water rises past his knees gets a close-up, right? For that, I think we really need to film in actual water. That's the only way the scene will feel alive."
"......"
"The background saturation is high, so I chose the wardrobe colors to match. Take another look at my drawings."
"......"
"Sora has to fall into my arms, so I'd like the spot where we meet to be at different heights."
"......"
"And about this part, the one we'll need to handle with CG—"
"Director! Is this kid seriously six years old?"
Never underestimate a six-year-old with twenty-two years of experience.
At the indoor swimming pool rented for the shoot, the crew was busily setting up equipment. The ocean backdrop, the cliff's edge, the bridge blooming into existence midair — all of that would be built with CG later, but only if we performed the scenes in real water first.
"Pretty?"
I always asked, even though I knew exactly what answer I'd get. A plain white dress with not a single ornament on it, long, glossy black hair spilling down her back — she looked like a forest fairy come down to play in the river.
"Yeah. Like a fairy."
"Hehe."
I watched the crew scurry around, Sora clinging faithfully to my side the whole time.
"Since this is Hajin's story, I want to do it extra well."
"I only supplied the idea. The director and the copywriter noona did all the real work."
"No, you didn't. The director said if it weren't for you, this ad would never have been made."
What was this man going on about now?
"From now on, I'm going to become the girl from your story."
The air around her changed.
This was not the shy Sora who hung back and couldn't step forward. Not the Sora who blushed and ducked her head at a compliment. Not the Sora who welled up on set, sobbing about how hard the shoot was.
That — that was an aura.
The aura of a genius child actress no one could hope to imitate.
The wistful ache of longing to meet someone, yet being unable to cross the distance. The quiet loss of being able only to watch from far away. The soaring joy the moment she sees him walking toward her. The silent plea: hurry, come to me, come meet me. And when she's finally gathered into his arms — the relief that spreads through her whole body.
The rims of her eyes were already glistening. Her expression shifted in subtle gradations, riding the wave of each emotion like a master surfer.
So this is what they meant when they called her a genius of emotional acting — this is how she goes for your throat.
Sora had already become the TTN girl of the story.
Watching her disappear into the emotion, Director Park rolled the camera.
Now it was my turn to become the TTN boy.
One by one, the lights and reflectors surrounding me vanished, and the empty air filled instead with a slate-gray sky hung with two moons.
Weighing curiosity against fear, I kept walking toward — somewhere.
Where I arrived was a sheer cliff of a thousand fathoms, marking the edge of the world. It was also the place where another world I had never once seen was waiting to begin.
'Will you come find me?'
Today, too, I gazed into the girl's sorrowful eyes.
I could have cursed that bottomless chasm. If only I could fly — no, if only there were a bridge I could cross.
The moment I turned to trudge away on leaden feet, a voice reached me. A voice from somewhere deep inside, echoing up from my very core.
'What you see is not all there is. Go on — walk on faith.'
It was a voice that took my dying hope and set it alight with the flame of courage.
Something I would never have dared attempt on any ordinary day — I began to cleave my way into the current itself. One step, then two, toward the cliff's edge, and toward the girl who waited beyond it.
'I believe. Show me as much hope as I have faith.'
One more step and I would fall off the edge of the world. In the girl's eyes — where only moments ago hope had flickered — there was now nothing but fear. She shook her head frantically, warning me not to come any closer.
But it was already too late to take back the hope that was carrying my feet forward.
Thump.
Yes. This was the feeling.
Stepping on empty air, I walked on. As a warm current wrapped itself around my whole body, my steps grew lighter, and the ground shimmered faintly into view, stretching all the way to where the girl stood.
Her fear transformed, at last, into joy. The instant my foot touched down in that new world, she flew into my arms.
The fresh scent of soap tickled my nose, sweet and pleasant. Stroking the girl's hair, I looked up at the sky.
The sky where my gaze came to rest was no longer gray.
"Cur-ut!"
With the triumphant bark of Director Park's voice, our world was peeled away and reality laid back over it.
The crew gathered near the camera couldn't say a word for a long while.
"No editing, and I can already see the finished ad. Is that even possible?"
"Now I get why they call Sora a genius child actress. I almost started crying right along with her back there."
"And what about Hajin? How does he express all of that without a single line of dialogue?"
"This is an all-timer. Director, honestly — think you'll ever shoot something better than this?"
Rolling up the camera, Director Park sank into his own thoughts.
'With Sora, you just nod and expect brilliance. But Hajin's talent is genuinely frightening. He's improved even since the audition.'
It got to the point where he wondered whether, if the boy kept growing at this pace, any director alive would be able to handle him once he became a full-grown actor.
Blissfully unaware of any of this, the two of them stood wrapped in each other's arms, cooing and nuzzling away.
Among the many nicknames Han Sora had earned while sweeping the three major film festivals, one was "the transformation actress."
The directors gave it to her because her behavior on camera and off was so wildly different it was hard to believe she was the same person. The moment she stood in front of the lens, she submerged herself so completely in her role that she could make a grown director weep — but the instant someone called cut, she would vanish without a trace, sending her manager scrambling around set in search of her.
Most of the time she could be found tucked away in some unnoticed corner, reading her script, or else sitting on an emergency stairwell scrolling through her phone.
Even now, having just delivered that masterclass of a performance, she was curled up in a corner, wound tight in a blanket like a cocoon, warming herself with a perfectly blank face. When our eyes met, she gave the smallest smile — then dropped straight back into her expressionless shell.
'So I'm the only one who gets to see her smile, huh.'
I was rolled up in my own blanket, too. I hadn't noticed it while acting, but the moment we climbed out of the water, my whole body had started to shiver. Getting a clean one-take sign-off from the director was about the only consolation.
"There she goes again, tucked away in a corner."
"Should we call her over?"
"No need. Once Sora's got her take, she's done. She has zero interest in the results — her attitude is, it was perfect, why would I need to watch it again? And honestly? It usually is perfect."
"Has the air date been set?"
"We show the cut to the advertiser at a private screening, and once they sign off, it airs within two weeks."
"When's the screening?"
"As soon as the edit's locked. A week, you think?"
"How exactly are we supposed to layer in all that CG in a week? You know better than anyone."
"We'll do what it takes. This ad has to be on air before the year is out."
Director Park Myung-chul looked over at the two blanket burritos huddled in the corner and spoke.
"Just you watch. Those two are going to make this year's end the loudest one yet."