The Hanbok Otaku Strikes

The drama stans had gone completely feral.

TVM was uploading clip videos nearly every single day, and on top of that, they were sweetly editing and posting behind-the-scenes footage as well — so much so that a person could live all twenty-four hours of the day thinking about nothing but Strange Tales.

Every time Strange Tales posted a clip, it cruised past a million views without breaking a sweat. Among the stans, it had become their 'always-a-million' staple.

Wander into the gallery and you found high-resolution captures, animated gifs, and essay-length analysis posts. Drift through social media and you found highlight clips. Step into the official channel and you found behind-the-scenes videos waiting for you.

'So this is what stanning a drama is like?'

She'd always enjoyed watching dramas, but she had never once gone out of her way to visit a gallery — and this office worker was now concluding that stanning a drama was every bit as fun as stanning an idol group.

'And the still cuts are gorgeous, too….'

The official stills, every bit the equal of a proper pictorial, only fed the obsession further. With high-quality official photos pouring out daily, it was only natural that desktop wallpapers were spreading in their wake.

'I'd love to visit an actual filming set someday.'

Of course, that would never happen. The office worker guarded the Monday broadcast of Strange Tales live, savoring the beautiful hanbok above all else.

And then, on the Monday after that weekend, her wish came true far sooner than she could have imagined.

"We need to send someone on a business trip — to Namwon, the place we heard about last time…."

Everyone in the office dreaded the assignment, their dead-fish eyes fixed vaguely on the copier, the potted plant, the nearest cubicle partition.

"You know that famous drama everyone's talking about? It's shooting there…."

Hanbok and a famous drama? The office worker's hand shot up before her brain caught up.

"Strange Tales?"

"Oh! Yes, that's the one!"

"I'll go! I volunteer!"

She hadn't needed to ask about the schedule or weigh the conditions. She would get to see Strange Tales with her own eyes. The office worker's eyes blazed like a woman possessed.

Dokgo Min was on set again today, a heavy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠camera slung around her neck.

"Hey, kid? I say this every time, but I'd really like you to shoot our Jun-hyuk a little more too…."

"Because I'm glued to Han Yeo-reum?"

"…."

"That's what I thought."

Somewhere along the way, Dokgo Min had become one of the Strange Tales crew. If you traced it back, the memory grew a little hazy.

That was because Director Jjang was not at all her type, and she had wiped him from her memory accordingly.

What she did know for certain was this: they'd gotten to talking one day, the conversation somehow spiraled into a deep-dive seminar on Eastern beauty, Director Jjang ended up locking her in his studio and feeding her bagels, and somewhere in that timeless haze they were discussing shooting concepts, and then —

"Ah, when is Han Yeo-reum getting here…."

She'd been captured.

Dokgo Min now carried the obligation of shooting still cuts under the title of 'art department staff.' Apparently a certain Manager Ma had heard about her even before filming began and declared that she absolutely had to be secured for the Blu-ray….

And so hundreds of still cuts had piled up, worthy of a glossy pictorial. But Dokgo Min suffered from one fatal flaw.

"Good girl. Yeo-reum will be back after her stage greeting, kid. So — shall we give our Jun-hyuk a little attention, hm? It would be lovely if you took plenty of solo shots of Jun-hyuk."

"Ugh. The life of a genius is such wearying toil."

That flaw: she was far, far too clear about what she wanted to shoot and what she didn't.

Ever since the shamanic ritual scene they'd filmed a while back, Dokgo Min's Han-Yeo-reum-Only Syndrome had grown considerably worse.

"I'm sorry…."

Kwon Jun-hyuk, who had spent his entire life surrounded by long-lens fan photographers, was deeply shaken by this unprecedented treatment — 'Please crop Kwon Jun-hyuk out of the frame' — and grew even more meek whenever he approached Dokgo Min.

"Nothing to be sorry for. Mm-hm, by the way — do you happen to have any bread? I need to eat bread before I shoot."

"No, I'm sorry, we don't have any bread right now. I'll go get some immediately…."

"Good. Bring it warm."

Dokgo Min had developed a new skill: converting every human being who came within three meters of her into a bread shuttle.

In the early days there had been sideways glances and muttered questions about who exactly this woman was — but after people saw her work, everyone started carrying bread around of their own accord.

As Dokgo Min watched Kwon Jun-hyuk trudge off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in search of bread, Director Jjang greeted the new arrivals with a beaming face.

"Aigoo! You made it! Thank you so, so much for coming all this way."

"No, no — we're the ones who've been dying to see the filming location in person…."

At a glance, terribly dull people.

Dokgo Min was angling for an escape when she saw something — and froze on the spot.

"This young lady handles the still cuts for our Strange Tales, though in truth she's a far more tremendous artist than that. I begged and begged and begged to get her here on set…. Hm?"

Director Jjang's introduction trailed off. Dokgo Min, without a word of question or permission, strode straight up to one of the women and snatched the hand clutching her phone.

"My photo!"

The phone's wallpaper was a photograph taken by Dokgo Min.

"Hello, I'm the assistant manager of Taerandang, a bespoke hanbok brand in partnership with the Seoul Hanbok Promotion Center—"

"Mm-hm, mm-hm. Shall we go over there and have a chat? Honestly, I never thought I'd meet another person I click with this well. Come along, quickly now."

The pitiful hanbok-company office worker became Dokgo Min's newest pick and was dragged away by the hand. Kwon Jun-hyuk, returning with freshly warmed bread, glanced around in confusion.

"Hyung… I think I really am nothing…."

"No, you're not, Jun-hyuk! Don't cry! Your makeup!"

"Myeong Je-ha has solo portrait work, I looked it up…. What if I don't get any solo shots on the Blu-ray? Well — I suppose if my acting is being carried, there's no choice but to be carried in the photos too…. Sob…. When I close my eyes to sleep, that ritual scene comes back to me and I wonder what I even am…."

Kwon Jun-hyuk hugged the warm bread to his chest and wept.

And several hours later, from that very Dokgo Min, he would receive the single greatest shot of his life.

Since I was down in the provinces for the location shoot anyway, I made the rounds of the stage greetings. Guided in by the security staff, I stepped into the theater, and the audience — like every audience before them — welcomed me as though they had been waiting for this exact moment their whole lives.

You'd think I'd be used to it by now. I am not used to it at all.

"You're so beautiful—!"

"This is my third time seeing it!"

"You're in part 2 as well, right?"

The questions thrown at me kept multiplying. So did the camera lenses aimed my way, and the instances of my name circulating across the internet.

Like being caught in a current, I could feel myself riding atop some unstoppable flow.

'Ten million is right in front of me now….'

The film had already blown past nine million. The prediction that it would cross ten million by the end of the weekend had come to be treated as simple fact.

Articles were flooding out by the day, of course — along with InTube plot-summary videos and an endless stream of #FasterThanTheLaw tags. The public's attention was extraordinary.

And above all, what had propelled the film's success was the 'certification shot.'

The merchandise had been produced as a value play, but the response was overwhelming — every piece was made with photos that had never been publicly released. And the certification shots didn't stop at merchandise. The everyday photos ordinary viewers uploaded to social media counted too.

"Huh? Hey, this is cute."

"Take mine first!"

The Faster Than the Law popup installed inside the theater: a black backdrop with the film's typography, and a smiley-face balloon standing beside it.

This simple photo zone was remarkably popular. Audience members who'd watched the film jostled to take pictures and post them online, and every piece of it interlocked to drive the box office higher.

Everything, exactly according to plan.

'Every time I come to a screening, the hall is packed.'

A colossal theater with not a single empty seat. When I considered that I stood at the very center of it, my head went dizzy. On an empty theater stage, I had once imagined precisely this moment.

'Someday, on a late-night stage where no one sits, a full house of strangers will look at me — every single one of them.'

I genuinely cannot believe it. That's why I don't feel tired no matter how little I sleep, and don't feel worn out no matter how little I rest. Is this what being the protagonist tastes like?

"That person — is that that person?"

As I left the theater under the security team's guidance after finishing a greeting, an audience member emerging from a Faster Than the Law screening said it loudly.

"She's the same person as Seoryeong?"

Presumably because I looked nothing like Influencer 1 from Faster Than the Law. I turned my head toward the voice and gave a wave. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A small scream rippled out.

'Ah… the taste of Rising…. So sweet…. Everyone, please, when you watch the movie — focus on my face, I'm begging you….'

First viewing for the story, second viewing for Han Yeo-reum's face. If only everyone would come at least twice.

"Foal! Good luck with the shoot!"

"Take care of your body and work smart, senior. Nothing's harder than falling sick in the middle of a shoot…."

Having said my goodbyes to Gwak Cheol-sik and Yoon Hyun-jo, I wrapped up the stage greetings and headed back to the Strange Tales set.

Today was the lantern scene. We were scheduled to shoot the moment where the two of us sat alone together on a ferry at the water's edge.

"Unnie—."

First thing upon arriving on set, I called for Dokgo Min. I can't do anything without her. Dokgo Min loves only me….

"Unnie?"

But why was there a strange woman standing next to Dokgo Min?

So they'd been having a lovely time without me, had they? Something about it soured my mood. The two of them were deep in serious conversation.

"Given the nature of hanbok as a garment — what happens when it's soaked in water? That ascetic, almost sinful flavor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of layer upon layer of fabric clinging to the body…. The line you see when tied hair goes damp and a few strands slide down the nape."

"Mm-hm, mm-hm. You know something. Not as much as me, but — a kindred genius."

"And this is what I will absolutely insist upon: this scene has to be shot with the two of them just barely touching. On their own, the flavor doesn't come alive, I'm telling you. Two hands hovering right at the tips of those wide hanbok sleeves, about to brush and not quite…."

What is this? Only that corner had a different atmosphere about it. In the middle of a set bustling with equipment setup, an entire world belonging to those two alone was unfolding.

"And then that goes in exactly once, in a wide, fully spread-out frame. A man's back filling the ferry, and perfectly concealed…. Focus from behind, and over his shoulder you catch Seoryeong's choked, breaking face. Cold moonlight pouring straight down from the left…. And under that light, in soaked hanbok, her arms stretching out — there it is. Kyaaaah!"

Even Director Jjang had been reeled in. The three of them huddled together in a corner of the set, a furnace of passionate discussion blazing away. And from somewhere behind me came a low, mournful greeting.

"You've arrived…."

"Jun-hyuk, what is going on with those three? There's no way for me to wedge myself in there. Also, that person over there — I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Who is she?"

"I have been shut out for so very long that I'm afraid I can't explain it either…."

Kwon Jun-hyuk replied, utterly deflated.

"The, the hanbok otaku? She has arrived…."

Going by the flickering of those status windows, both of their stats were bound to climb before long.

As expected, you only truly learn things by rolling around and breaking on an actual set. I looked up at Kwon Jun-hyuk. And then, brimming with conviction, I spoke.

"I have a feeling this scene is going to come out absolutely incredible. Myeongdo and Seoryeong. The greatest legendary scene of them all. Five thousand stars."

"Well, you always do well, so of course it will…."

Kwon Jun-hyuk answered sheepishly. I'd heard he'd nailed that swordfight scene a while back — so why was his confidence still in the gutter?

"I think it's you who'll do even better this time, Jun-hyuk."

"Ahhh—! You really don't need to compliment me like that. It only makes me more nervous…."

No. I mean it. Truly.

'We're about to shoot a scene for the history books.'

Every single letter in Kwon Jun-hyuk's status window was blinking.

The scene to come. I was certain it would become unforgettable — for him, and for Strange Tales alike.