Universe CF
An Jun-ho knew full well that every project Yeon-woo touched exploded into a massive hit. He even knew that among them, White Blood—which had broken overseas and become a mega-hit—had given him a stake through running guarantees.
No matter how thoroughly he had walled himself off from the world before enlisting, he had never closed his ears to his colleagues’ stories.
Still, the image of Yeon-woo that lived strongest in An Jun-ho’s mind was the little brother who used to show up on set in his school uniform.
“…Yeon-woo, you’re a real big shot now.”
“Nah, big shot’s a bit much…”
Yeon-woo gave an awkward smile.
The three of them, reunited after so long, traded stories and caught up. Most of the talking fell to An Jun-ho.
As a soldier, nearly every tale that left his mouth was army talk. For reference, Son Jin-uk had already completed his full term as an army sergeant and been discharged.
Even the most elite special forces operators who looked invincible during training usually lost their heads and floundered the moment they were thrown into real special missions—and Yeon-woo was the one who used to slap them across the face and drill the spirit back into them. In front of him, An Jun-ho’s stories were basically a kid showing off. Yeon-woo wore a fond, fatherly smile and nodded diligently along to “Private An Jun-ho’s” tales.
“I see. That must have been really tough, hyung.”
“Dude, don’t even start. Snow piled up like a mountain and there I was bare-handed with just a shovel…”
An Jun-ho grew more animated with every word; Yeon-woo pinched his own thigh to keep from laughing out loud.
Once the contract was signed and the reunion talk finished, An Jun-ho returned to Chuncheon. A few days later his dreamlike leave ended and he reported back to his unit.
Meanwhile Yeon-woo spent his days leisurely—working out and practicing acting—while at night he and Han Hae-un, fresh off work, began coordinating the agents and gathering intelligence.
They carefully investigated the suspicious points around Okinawa that had turned up in the immigration records last time, and at the same time quietly mapped out Baeksol’s network inside the prosecution.
In the middle of that stretch of days, Yeon-woo’s phone rang.
“Hmm? It’s Director Yoon.”
He answered with a greeting.
“Director Yoon. Have you eaten?”
“Ah, Actor Ryu. I just finished and I’m on my way back. That new brunch place on the first floor is pretty good.”
The first floor of the Mokhwa Building was already fully occupied, and a whole new commercial strip was springing up around it.
Yeon-woo smiled and nodded.
“I’ll have to go try it myself sometime.”
“If Actor Ryu goes and eats there, the line afterward will be so long no one else will get a table. If you’re going, give me a heads-up first so I can sneak in before you.”
Yeon-woo laughed at Director Yoon Mi-yeon’s joke.
She had not been joking at all; she meant every word.
“Anyway, the reason I called—the CF for the White Blood expedition members we discussed last time has been confirmed.”
“Ah, so the schedule’s finally locked in. Which CF are we shooting first?”
“The smartphone one was confirmed first.”
“A smartphone…”
At her words, Yeon-woo remembered that the very first commercial he had ever shot had also been for a smartphone—more precisely, a telecom-tied CF. He had hung from wires, grabbed a phone in a lecture hall, and plummeted across the universe into an amateur film set. He and Director Lee Yong-su had shot that one together.
Feels like forever ago that we filmed that.
He shook off the memory and continued.
“Then we’ll need to look over the storyboard with the expedition members.”
“Yes. If your personal schedule is free, I was thinking we could do it today—how does that sound?”
“I’m free. I’ll see you at the company.”
“Understood.”
After hanging up, Yeon-woo threw on some clothes and got ready to head out. Kim Min-su’s car arrived.
“I’m out front.”
“Okay, coming down now.”
Yeon-woo stepped outside and climbed into Kim Min-su’s car. With so few recent schedules, it felt like they hadn’t seen each other in quite a while.
“How’ve you been, Min-su hyung? Is the training going okay?”
Kim Min-su pulled a long face at the question.
“Feels like I’m wearing clothes that don’t fit. Me, training people?”
As team leader of Management Team 1, Kim Min-su had been handling the education of the new managers on days when Yeon-woo had no schedule.
Yeon-woo laughed and shook his head.
“There’s no one better suited than you, hyung. You’re the best manager there is.”
“Not at all. You’re too kind.”
They chatted about this and that until the car reached the Mokhwa Building. Yeon-woo got out and headed upstairs.
When he opened the door, every member was already there.
“Huh? I left the second I got the call—how are you all already here?”
“We called Actor Ryu last.”
“Han Byeol and I were already hanging out at the company!”
Once school ended, Han Byeol always came straight to the company to spend time with her unnies and oppas. The staff all adored the bright little girl who approached everyone so openly; she had become something of a company mascot across both media and entertainment.
The other actors seemed to drop by even on free days as well.
Well, besides the café on the third floor, the acting practice rooms on the fourth are excellent.
They had set up a system so anyone could grab a camera anytime and meticulously check their own performances. Even without special business, the environment made people want to come into the office.
“Dong-ha, you free too?”
“My promotions wrapped yesterday!”
“Nice.”
Yeon-woo nodded and took a seat.
Just then Director Yoon Mi-yeon entered with a staffer from the advertising agency.
Only then did Yeon-woo tilt his head.
Come to think of it, it’s Director Yoon instead of CEO Jeong Hyeok. Don’t commercials fall under Entertainment?
The question resolved itself the moment he looked at the storyboard the agency staffer began briefing.
The commercial opened with Dong-ha racing across a barren desert, kicking up sandstorms. But in the storyboard he was not Dong-ha—he was dressed as Akhenaten.
They’re going with the White Blood character concept.
A dozen questions instantly popped into Yeon-woo’s head.
A fantasy concept… for a cutting-edge smartphone commercial?
He was about to tilt his head again when the following panels made him nod instead.
From the middle of the ad onward, the members appeared in ordinary clothes, cross-cutting with their drama characters.
Yeon-woo looked at the slogan printed at the top of the planning document the agency staffer had handed out.
Beyond universe, Over the top.
Beyond Universe… Universe is the name of the phone, so they mean a model that surpasses the previous one.
Then he saw the phrase that followed and let out a quiet snort of laughter.
Over the top.
By dictionary definition it meant exceeding an acceptable limit. Usually negative—“too much”—yet it was also used to mean “surpassing the limit.” And there was another usage.
Netflix, the platform that carried White Blood, was commonly called an OTT service. OTT stood for Over The Top.
Wordplay. A model that goes beyond the limit, and at the same time aimed at OTT services.
When Yeon-woo flipped further through the pages, sure enough the promotional strategy emphasized next-generation technology—vivid displays and even faster broadband networks so users could stream OTT services without interruption.
He nodded and looked back at the screen. The storyboard the staffer was still briefing had already moved on to the drama characters and the real-world actors facing each other and becoming one.
So the members will have to look into empty air and play dual roles.
Technically and performance-wise, it was a fairly difficult shoot.
Having finished explaining the storyboard, the agency staffer looked a little tense as he addressed the actors.
“That’s everything. Most of the shoot will have to be handled with CG, so there will be quite a few difficult parts, but we’ll support you as much as we can.”
The members’ faces, however, were full of confidence.
After all, while filming White Blood they had spent endless days in chroma-key studios wearing nothing but skintight bodysuits and acting toward empty air. A concept like this was child’s play.
“Hyung, doesn’t this feel a lot like the trade-city shoot?”
Dong-ha said. Beside him Han Byeol shook her head.
“This looks way easier than that!”
The agency staffer, who had been fretting that the high difficulty might draw negative reactions, let out a breath of relief and continued.
“And we plan to release phone colors named after each of you.”
“Oh?”
“For real?!”
The members lit up at the staffer’s words. He pressed a button and the presentation advanced.
“Five colors in total will be released.”
Yeon-woo’s was jet black; Jeong Su-yeon’s silver white. Ella’s was a pink gold close to white; Dong-ha’s carmine red.
“Ahem. Why am I just gold? Makes me look old.”
The color assigned to Jeong Cheol-min was gold—luxurious from one angle, filial-piety phone from another.
The staffer broke into a cold sweat and soothed him.
“Gold is the most premium color and the most popular among middle-aged customers. The moment it launches, stock sells out immediately.”
Statistically that was true—mainly because the initial production run for gold was smaller than the other colors since it sold less. Still, everyone was buoyed by the fact that they would be the main models for a brand-new flagship smartphone and that colors bearing their names would hit the market.
If Son Jin-uk and Han So-hyun had been expedition members, they probably would not have been this excited. Both had already been top stars from the day Yeon-woo debuted and had shot countless commercials. But for relative newcomers like Han Byeol and Jeong Su-yeon, for once-unknown Jeong Cheol-min, and for Dong-ha—whose personal recognition had lagged behind his group’s—the inverted popularity that followed White Blood’s success was something they could finally enjoy to the fullest.
Then Yeon-woo quietly raised a hand to ask a question. The agency staffer nodded.
“Yes, Actor?”
“I assume this has already been cleared with the original creators?”
“Of course. We completed separate discussions with Director Hwang Min-gwon.”
Yeon-woo flipped through the storyboard again and continued.
“Then the CG director for this commercial is…?”
Director Yoon Mi-yeon nodded and answered for him.
“Director Jeong Yo-han will be handling it.”
“I thought so.”
That was why Director Yoon, not CEO Jeong Hyeok, was in charge. On Kim Ju-seong’s orders, Yoon Mi-yeon—then still a team leader—had overseen the entire production of White Blood.
“We’ll brief you again on the detailed schedule before the shoot day.”
The advertising meeting ended. A few days later, a leak about the upcoming flagship smartphone hit the internet.
Drama fans and early adopters waiting for the latest phone news exploded with interest at the same time, and the internet caught fire.