Sketch Syndrome

The "Sketch Syndrome" that began on opening day swept across South Korea like a storm.

In the film industry, it was not uncommon for award-winning works from overseas to struggle at the box office. The moment a film was said to have taken home a prize, audiences tended to assume it was some difficult art-house piece rather than a commercial movie focused on entertainment, and a psychological barrier went up.

But perhaps it was because Director Park Chan-hong had already drawn ten million viewers multiple times with commercial films. Or perhaps it was the force of Ryu Yeon-woo, who seemed to turn every project he touched into a hit these days.

From day one, major time slots began selling out so thoroughly that tickets were nearly impossible to reserve.

And when CEO Kim Ju-seong walked out of the theater, his face was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠full of satisfaction.

As expected. I do have an eye for people.

He had marked this actor early, back at the audition for Summer's Closet. He had trusted the young man's judgment in choosing projects. And the ability to take those projects, make them completely his own, and bring them to full fruition had been perfect as well.

Once again, Kim Ju-seong felt a deep sense of trust in his own actor, Ryu Yeon-woo.

Yeon-woo was a goose that laid golden eggs even if you simply left him alone. When he said he wanted to do something, the best move an agency could make was only one.

Beep.

Kim Ju-seong pulled out his smartphone and placed a call. It connected almost immediately.

"Yes, sir."

"Director Yoon. About the new series Yeon-woo has taken on."

"Ah, I received the brief. You're referring to White Blood, the one planned for OTT."

"From planning onward, I want you personally overseeing every stage so nothing falls behind. And whatever Yeon-woo wants, support it without exception."

Even setting the company's position aside, as a film fan himself Kim Ju-seong was looking forward to Yeon-woo's next work. That was why he had given the order directly to Yoon Mi-yeon, the planning team leader who handled everything more thoroughly than anyone else in the company.

"Understood. I'll report progress on a monthly basis."

Nodding with a satisfied smile, Kim Ju-seong left the theater.

At the same hour, Hong Yu-ri and Kim Jun-su came out of the same film with tears and runny noses in full force.

"Hwaaaang, Jay's mom is so pitiful. Sniff."

"Ahem. Still, they found her even if it was late. That's something. I'm gonna hit the restroom real quick."

Not wanting to look pathetic blubbering in front of Hong Yu-ri, Kim Jun-su held back his tears with sheer willpower and hurried toward the bathroom. When he opened the door and looked toward the sinks, there was a line.

What the hell? It's not even the urinals. They're lining up for the sinks.

The faces of the waiting men were all red around the eyes; each of them was sniffling while covering his nose with one hand. And when Jun-su caught his own reflection in the mirror beyond them, it was a sight. He was no better than the ones ahead of him—if anything, he was worse.

Damn it. Yeon-woo played it so calmly that I thought I was gonna die from how sad it was.

If Jay on the screen had sobbed his heart out, that would have released some of the emotion and left less of it lingering in the audience. Instead, the way Jay restrained every feeling with a confused expression, as if the story were truly his own, transferred all that unresolved sorrow straight onto the viewers. That was why a documentary that simply delivered a story with quiet restraint could sometimes hit harder than a one-act play full of explosive tears and peak facial acting.

After waiting his turn, blowing his nose, and washing his face, Jun-su returned to the lobby to find Hong Yu-ri, just as expected, sniffling while talking to her mother on the phone.

"Nooo, Mom, what if you get dementia?"

"Hey, Hong Yu-ri. Your mom is barely fifty, okay?! What dementia? Who are you calling an old lady?"

"Jay's mom got dementia in her twenties!"

"Who's Jae-hee? You've been seeing some guy lately, right? Is his name Jae-hee? Bring him home once."

At her mother's sudden remark, Hong Yu-ri looked over at Kim Jun-su walking toward her.

"What? Mom, how did you know?"

"Last time I bought tofu and was heading home, I saw you two hugging at the playground."

"Kyaaaak! I don't know! Hanging up!"

Watching her end the call with a faint scream, Kim Jun-su approached with a puzzled look.

"What? What's going on?"

"Mom saw us hugging."

"...Holy crap?"

From the morning of its release, the review section of the theater app was plastered with perfect tens.

By afternoon, professional reviews from film critics began appearing as well. One line from Park Gang-yeon, a critic famous for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his stingy ratings, set the internet ablaze.

It was true: Park Gang-yeon had never given a domestic film a score of 9. Only a handful of foreign masterpieces from the late nineties, works counted among the greatest of the century, had ever received that mark from him.

By evening, every community board was flooded with posts about Sketch, and as fans gleefully carried those topics over, Yeon-woo's fan cafe Woo's saw several times the usual number of new posts.

And the conversation began heating up in other directions as well.

Reading those reactions, LN Entertainment quickly coordinated with the original soundtrack's creator, Chrissy Monroe, and released the digital singles.

The tracks that dropped at 6 p.m. climbed the charts far faster than anyone had expected.

"Huh? The tracks are ranked what?"

"I know, right? Already number seven! Our songs are on the music charts!"

Yeon-woo, who had been thinking over the next project's scenario in his officetel, tilted his head at the sudden call from Seo Ji-eun.

"Number seven? Which song?"

"Right now 'Paint' is the highest, but the others are all inside the top twenty too!"

Hearing the pure excitement in Seo Ji-eun's voice, Yeon-woo let out a small laugh. Given her history as a trainee singer, it seemed some lingering attachment to performing as a vocalist still sat in a corner of her heart.

"It's popular because you sing well, noona. This is Seo Ji-eun's voice."

"That's an insult to the band session players, you know? A song doesn't get popular just because of the vocal. It's JayNari's song."

"Is that so?"

Across both his previous life and this one he had lived completely walled off from music, a tone-deaf man who had never once thought about digital charts.

"But at this rate, aren't we gonna end up on a music show? That would be huge!"

She was already an actress who had made Star Beyond the River a hit and taken home the Golden Bear in Berlin. Yet Seo Ji-eun still seemed unable to fully grasp her own position.

Yeon-woo scratched his cheek and spoke.

"Well, if they invite us, wouldn't they be the ones welcoming us with both hands open? You're a famous actress now too, noona."

"Come on, I'm not you. Famous? Hmm... maybe? Anyway, once we hang up, open the music chart and check!"

"Mm, okay."

Yeon-woo ended the call and was about to open a music app, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there was no need—countless people around him had already started sending screenshots through messenger.

Among them he tapped the photo his little sister So-hyun had posted in the family group chat.

Hm?

An hour after the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tracks dropped at six, they had entered the rankings—and now they had claimed first place.

Looking at the chart, Yeon-woo scratched his head with a faintly troubled expression.

Yeon-woo smiled softly at the messages. Then he opened the chart screenshot again and rubbed his chin.

Hmm. Talk of music shows is definitely going to come up, isn't it?

Objectively speaking, there was no way the producers of music programs would let an opportunity this good slip by. Of course, if it interfered with his acting work he had zero intention of taking on side activities, but if standing on a stage once served as fan service and film promotion, there was no reason to refuse a one-off performance.

Well, the truth is I don't really have to do anything.

Seo Ji-eun would handle all the singing, and while he could play the instruments himself, it was still unclear whether a broadcast music show's system could even provide proper live sound.

Bzzzt—

His phone vibrated.

— Team Leader Jeong Hyeok

"Yes, Team Leader."

"Yeon-woo-ssi. Sorry to bother you while you're resting."

"Not at all."

"It's just that a schedule offer came in this time... well, schedule offers pour in every day by the truckload, but—"

He hadn't even heard the rest, yet he already knew what it was about.

"A music show?"

"Huh? How did you know?"

Yeon-woo gave a quiet laugh. Apparently people really did think along the same lines.

"I checked the chart performance too. An OST doing this well is a huge help for promoting the film."

"Wow, you're a mind reader."

Appearing on variety shows was another option, of course. In fact, the variety offers currently coming in for Yeon-woo could fill a truck. But even without going full mystery-man, if a film actor like Ryu Yeon-woo—who had barely been exposed on variety—suddenly stepped into that arena, image consumption was inevitable. And since this film was a music movie that put its musical code front and center, appearing on a music show offered one additional advantage.

In the story, Jay and Nari gradually expanded their recognition and seemed poised for success as singers, yet the film ended without a final conclusion. If they performed as JayNari on a music show, it would be like a real-world spin-off debut of the movie itself.

Turning those thoughts over and finishing his calculations, Yeon-woo nodded.

"You'll need to coordinate with Actress Seo Ji-eun's agency as well, right?"

"They contacted us first. Said they really want to do it."

The image of Seo Ji-eun, bubbling with excitement on the phone just minutes earlier, came to mind. She probably wanted to stand on that stage for pure reasons, separate from film promotion.

"I'll do it, Team Leader. The music show."

And so the music-show appearance that would, once the fans at Woo's found out, turn into an all-time frenzy was decided.