Donation
Netflix.
The leading OTT platform and the largest streaming site in the industry. Anyone with a monthly subscription could access it, and with its vast library of movies, variety shows, and dramas, finding someone who didn't use it had become nearly impossible.
And right now, sitting at number one on the Netflix Korea real-time rankings was the film Ara had starred in — Stalker.
Some had watched it on the strength of word of mouth. Many more, knowing nothing of the surrounding circumstances, had simply clicked play out of curiosity because it was sitting at the top. And every single person who watched Stalker ended up of one mind and one heart — grieving, and crying.
There were those who felt a particularly deep empathy for Cheon Eun-bin. People who, like her, had been forgotten by someone they loved, or who were being forgotten in real time, existed in the real world too. Quite a lot of them, in fact.
A nursing hospital for the elderly, somewhere in Seoul.
"Mom, I'm here."
A middle-aged man of advancing years called out to the old woman sitting comfortably in front of the TV. The grandmother turned her head toward the son greeting her.
"Hmm? Who are you?"
"It's me, Young-cheol. Your first son, Kim Young-cheol."
"Hmm? Son?"
Even after he told her he was the eldest and gave his full name, his mother did not recognize him.
"I don't know you. I need to watch my TV."
"…All right. I'll come again next time."
Biting down hard on his lower lip, Young-cheol stepped out of the room. He asked the care worker about his mother's condition.
"How is she doing?"
"She's been very in and out lately. She remembered just fine a little while ago, but it looks like she's forgotten again."
It was not an encouraging answer. Young-cheol glanced around.
"There are a lot of people here today."
"I know. Probably thanks to Stalker."
Young-cheol himself had stumbled across Stalker by chance and cried so hard thinking of his mother. That was why he had come to see her the very next day.
"I guess everyone's heart works the same way. I should have done better by her when I had the chance."
"The fact that you came is what matters. Even if she can't remember, the feeling will have gotten through."
Stalker was becoming a major issue all over again — from a direction no one had intended. Countless messages of gratitude from ordinary citizens began flooding the internet as well.
As public interest and a parade of donations from major celebrities continued, there were those left awkwardly watching from the sidelines. Influencers of every stripe, and anyone who had not yet donated. For people whose image was their most important asset, more than a few found themselves donating and posting proof — half of their own free will, half because they had no choice.
And of course, Ara was wrestling with it too.
"Hmm. What do I do…."
Things had ballooned in a somewhat strange direction.
"At least it's not a bad direction…."
She had a sense of social awareness, after all. Even if she didn't donate, who was going to throw stones at her? But again — she had a sense of social awareness….
Unnie Mi-so. Senior Jae-jun. Teacher Kang Hui-ok. All of them had already posted their donation proofs.
"If I'm the only one who doesn't, it's going to look really weird…."
Donate? She could do that. She had more than enough money. Aside from computer gear, she barely had anywhere to spend it anyway.
That said.
"Donating is fine, but won't it look like I only did it because everyone else was pushing me into it?"
She should have just gone first without dragging her feet. Ara browsed the internet.
Just as she expected, that kind of post was already up. The silver lining was this:
People were roasting the critics on her behalf.
"Yeah. They'll do it on their own…."
Ara checked another post.
"Hmm. Outside expectations, huh…."
Donating itself was already decided. Now it was a matter of figuring out the method. But on her own, nothing useful was coming to mind. So Ara pulled out her phone and flipped through her contacts.
"Is there anyone who can give me advice? Should I ask the CEO?"
She was about to call Jeong Yeo-un, then stopped herself.
"Leaning on him for every little thing isn't good."
She felt she needed independent, self-directed thinking.
"Advice…. Wait. Advice?"
Donating. Whatever the original motive, now that she was doing it, she wanted to put some real heart into it. And just now, as she murmured the word "advice" to herself, something had clicked.
Riiing—
Ara called Jeong Yeo-un.
Click—
"Hey, Ara."
"Ah. CEO. Do you have a moment? I have something quick to ask."
"Yeah. Go ahead."
"I'd like to make a donation too."
"Good. I'm glad. You shouldn't force these things, but with a public image to maintain…."
Jeong Yeo-un was well aware of the current situation.
"So? How much were you thinking?"
Ara roughly explained the amount.
"Huh? That much?"
"Yes. I don't really have anything to spend it on anyway."
"I see…."
Jeong Yeo-un fell silent for a moment, thinking.
"So the thing is, rather than a straight donation, I'd like to do a sponsorship."
"Huh? Sponsorship?"
"Yes. It's not that I don't trust anyone — I just think personally picking out the items and delivering them would feel more real."
"Yeah? If that's how you feel, then that's how it is. Actually, that approach would look a lot better. Impressive."
Jeong Yeo-un praised her.
"But Ara, there's something you need to know. If it's a sponsorship, the whole conversation changes."
"Sorry? How so?"
"Medical supplies and hospital beds are so expensive that the impact barely shows. And appliances — if the ones they already have still work, you're just creating waste. That's why people just give money. It's simple and convenient."
"That makes sense. Still, I want to do it as a sponsorship."
"All right. You're doing a good thing — sorry for raining on it. So which nursing hospital are you sponsoring?"
"Sorry? I'm not sponsoring a hospital."
"Ah…. Then a senior living community?"
"No?"
"?"
For a second, Jeong Yeo-un wondered if she was messing with him.
"Then… where?"
In answer to Jeong Yeo-un's question, Ara named the place she intended to sponsor.
"An orphanage."
"…!!"
What Ara had thought of a moment ago, sparked by the word "advice." When ordinary people hit something difficult or confusing, who do they turn to for advice? Their parents. Seeking counsel from the people who know you best, who have been closest to you — that is as ordinary as breathing.
But orphans have had the ordinary taken from them. When people without parents need advice, who do they ask? A teacher, a director — they can ask, sure. But no matter how they try, it will always feel incomplete. And so, for that incompleteness, Ara wanted to add even one more hand of support. She herself had been an orphan, after all — special circumstances aside. She wanted the children to be able to live a little better.
"I've been thinking about it. Right now, whether of their own free will or not, everyone's donating to nursing homes, right?"
"That's true."
"So I figure there are plenty of people covering that side without me. Which means I'll donate to an orphanage."
"……"
"But I don't really know how. So please help me. Which orphanages would be good, and what kinds of supplies they need."
That was why Ara had called Jeong Yeo-un.
"All right, got it. Hang up for now — I'll get back to you later."
"Yes. I'll keep looking into it on my end too."
Click—
The call ended, and Ara went back to searching the internet. But this time, for a different reason entirely.
Click—
The call ended.
…
And for a brief moment, silence.
"Impressive."
Jeong Yeo-un's first word was pure admiration. Honestly, if you asked him to describe the current situation, it was extremely awkward. Donating was the ideal move, but in a climate where forced or not, people would find something to say no matter what you did — Ara had offered a brilliant answer.
"Right. Just like Ara said, that side is already getting plenty of attention. So we go after the overlooked kids no one is looking at."
It was a genuine stroke of insight. That she could come up with something like this — he truly thought she was remarkable.
"Now what we need to lock down is the location and the supplies."
Jeong Yeo-un picked up his phone and summoned Nam Tae-woo and Jang Min-a.
"Yes, CEO."
"You called for us?"
They both came in together and bowed to Jeong Yeo-un.
"Ah. You're here. You two know Ara's situation, right?"
"Yes."
"We do."
"She's decided what she's going to do."
"Oh? Did Ara contact you, CEO?"
"Yeah."
Jeong Yeo-un had already instructed them in advance not to bring up anything donation-related with Ara.
"Ara's donating too."
"Figured she would."
"So how much is she doing?"
At Jang Min-a's question, Jeong Yeo-un opened his hand, fingers spread.
"Huh? Five hundred?"
"You think it'd be that little? Fifty million won."
"She hasn't even been debuted a full year and she already has that kind of money???"
Nam Tae-woo, a longtime manager, blurted out his disbelief.
"That doesn't make any sense??"
"Tae-woo, shut up…."
"!?"
Suddenly melancholy, Jeong Yeo-un shut Nam Tae-woo's mouth for him.
"Anyway, it's fifty million, right?"
Jang Min-a confirmed the amount again.
"Yeah."
"But why did you call us? Tax deductions?"
"No."
Jeong Yeo-un explained Ara's plan to them.
"Huh? An orphanage?"
"Wow! That's genius!"
Just like Jeong Yeo-un, they both expressed their admiration.
"Right. So we need to do some research. I'll look into places on my end too, so you two dig around and report back if you find anywhere good."
"Understood."
"Yes, CEO."
"We need to move as fast as possible! We have to wrap this while it's still the hottest topic! No time — dismissed!!"
Nam Tae-woo and Jang Min-a scrambled out at a run.