Movie Moon — The End
"My ships and submersibles are already entering the territorial waters of Tonga and Fiji without authorization. All I ask is that you prevent any diplomatic friction."
The screen filled with vessels crowding the open sea. At the bow of the lead high-speed craft, white spray crashing over him, Cha Su-hyeon held a satellite phone.
"What on earth are you talking about? Representative Cha, why would you suddenly trespass into another nation's territorial waters?"
Another voice cut in almost at once.
"Ah—this is Hwang Bo-hun, Director of the Korea Aerospace Research Institute. I don't know the full situation, but according to our records, the probe most likely sank into the ocean. Even if you locate it, recovery in a short timeframe is nearly impossible."
Cha Su-hyeon nodded.
"I'm aware. I have no intention of raising it. I plan to deploy a submersible immediately and dock with it on the seafloor."
"Excuse me? That is an absurd proposition. Docking is an extremely precise process. The specifications don't even match a submarine's! The moment you attempt it, both the submersible and the spacecraft will be crushed under water pressure!"
Had the man on the other end of the line not been the largest investor in their closely guarded space program, Hwang Bo-hun would have hung up on the spot. Cha Su-hyeon answered with perfect calm.
"We've already manufactured everything to the CPS-48K specifications of the probe. Dozens of trial tests have been completed. There will be no problem."
"The probe's design is a state secret. Even as the principal backer, how could you possibly—"
"Just take it as given," Cha Su-hyeon cut him off. "If any other vessel interferes with the search operation under the pretext of diplomatic friction, I will open fire with naval guns. If you wish to prevent an unfortunate incident between nations, I suggest you stop it before it starts. That is all."
Click—.
The president and the officials stared at the dead line, blinking.
"Did Representative Cha just say… naval guns?"
"Never mind that—how did he build a submarine to match top-secret design specifications in the first place…?"
Meanwhile, having ended the call, Cha Su-hyeon raced across the water aboard the high-speed craft. Below, dozens of independently developed submersibles fitted with underwater detection radar fanned out across the wide sea, expanding their search range.
The spacecraft carrying Hong Yu-jeong had crashed into the sea and sunk, becoming a kind of closed system. Completely sealed, the interior of the craft received no influence from the outside world—no matter what happened beyond its hull.
From this moment on, nothing Cha Su-hyeon did could reach Hong Yu-jeong inside the spacecraft. At last, Cha Su-hyeon and Hong Yu-jeong were living in the same stretch of time. For two people who had been racing along separate timelines, time now flowed identically, becoming the present. And that was the gift Cha Su-hyeon had waited so long to receive.
Meanwhile, Hong Yu-jeong—returned from the past—looked around with a dazed expression.
"Su-hyeon…"
She should have been pulled back into the past within seconds, yet she remained aboard the probe. Tears spilled from her eyes. She did not even contort her face. The tears simply kept falling down a blank expression, conveying her sense of loss to the audience with devastating clarity.
The crashed probe had plunged into the ocean, and her crewmates still hung unconscious in their safety harnesses. Coming to her senses, Hong Yu-jeong woke them. One struggled to breathe, ribs likely broken; another could not use his left arm. They tried to operate the equipment to transmit their position to headquarters, but the devices were dead—wrecked, it seemed, by the impact of the crash.
Then a warning tone blared through the cabin.
Beep—.
"What? What kind of warning is that?"
The pilot with the broken arm asked, and a colleague checking the instruments answered.
"It says something has coupled to the external hatch—but that's impossible! The water pressure must be crushing the protruding sections first!"
Clank—.
Screech—.
A sound like metal scraping metal rose, and the bulkhead door connecting the external hatch to the cabin interior swung open. Through it stepped men in orange one-piece work suits.
"Please remain calm. We are a rescue team."
Unable to accept that this impossible situation was real, the astronauts froze, blinking, not even managing joy. How could a rescue team open a hatch on a spacecraft that had smashed into the ocean floor?
Then, between the men who had opened the door, a man in black entered.
It was Cha Su-hyeon.
"…Yu-jeong."
The moment she heard his voice, Hong Yu-jeong felt a rush of overwhelming joy and, at the same time, a pain as if her chest were being torn open. She knew who he was the instant she saw him. Years had passed, yet his face was almost unchanged. Tears streamed endlessly from her eyes as she approached him.
"…Su-hyeon. You must have suffered so much alone for so long. You must have been in so much pain. And so lonely."
She could not dare imagine the path he had walked. But Cha Su-hyeon looked at her and smiled gently.
"I told you I'd come find you no matter what. I'm not going to cry. This is a happy day."
He was smiling, yet contrary to his words, tears rolled down Cha Su-hyeon's cheeks as well.
In that instant, Chrissy Monroe's score, which had filled the theater, surged to its climax with a fierce violin. Listening to music steeped in long waiting and aching tenderness, the audience recalled the entire journey of the two of them, and emotion rose unbidden. And just as everyone hoped, Hong Yu-jeong ran to Cha Su-hyeon. She leapt up, wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him into a fierce embrace, and kissed him.
Movie Moon — End.
The cast, who had been watching from the front rows, stepped forward as the ending credits rolled. Applause poured over them.
Hong A-yun was overwhelmed that a film in which she had played the lead was actually screening, and having lived as Hong Yu-jeong for months, she found herself so fully absorbed by the images on screen that she could not hold back her tears.
From the audience, Son Jin-uk grinned at Yeon-woo and turned to Jin Yu-han beside him.
"That Yeon-woo is a real sly one."
"Why?"
"I distinctly asked him at the crank-in whether there was a kiss scene, and he said there wasn't. Then he goes and plants two of them that intense."
Jin Yu-han snorted at Son Jin-uk's wording.
"Hyung, what do you mean, 'plants'?"
"Heh. Don't you know 'kiss-slam'? It's a neologism."
Jin Yu-han scratched his head.
"…Is that really a neologism?"
Behind them, Han Byeol and Jeong Su-yeon already had eyes rimmed bright red.
"Ah, I'm so relieved it was a happy ending."
Throughout the film they had fretted that the two might remain stranded in different times, left only to long for each other. Watching the pair, Seo Ji-eun beside them grinned.
"Aww, did our little baby bunnies cry?"
"Unnie Ji-eun, your eyes are the reddest of the three of us."
That afternoon, articles by film critics and reporters began appearing online.
Word that "actor Ryu Yeon-woo," who brings a fresh wind to Korean cinema with every project, was starring in a classical romance sent this paper's reporters racing to the theater—only to leave shaking their heads when the film ended.
This was a clear case of false advertising.
To classify it as a simple romance would be to diminish the vast narrative this film contains. The trailer was barely a trailer at all. Beginning with the meeting of two people in the fresh green of a twenty-year-old summer…
Most of what appeared online were favorable reviews, articles, and columns in succession. With the official release only three days away, fans drowning in the flood of teasers could only pray for time to pass more quickly.
And while anticipation for Saebyeol Media's first film, Moon, burned white-hot, Saebyeol Entertainment was hardly sitting idle.
When the tide comes in, you row. CEO Jeong Hyeok used the moment when all eyes were on Saebyeol thanks to the film's release to land a string of major contracts in succession, firmly planting Saebyeol's name in the entertainment industry and the public mind. Having learned a great deal of Kim Ju-seong's business acumen over his shoulder, Jeong Hyeok was beginning to look genuinely seasoned.
Saebyeol was not the only one rowing, however.
On the night of the advance screening, in the waters northwest of Okinawa, Kim Su-hyeok and Park Jung-hyeon were literally rowing a rubber boat. Among the goods ordered from Brazil, they had separated out the items needed for the Okinawa operation, taken delivery on the high seas, run in toward the coast under motor power, then quietly rowed the rest of the way to land on the island.
"We've reached the operational objective. We'll conceal the materials until D-Day."
"Good work. Erase your traces and stand by."
Han Hae-un issued the standby order to Kim Su-hyeok, then reported up to Yeon-woo. After the screening, Yeon-woo had come home to rest when his smartphone buzzed.
Han Hae-un: The goods have arrived at the target location.
Yeon-woo: Understood. We'll commence the operation soon. Stand by.
Han Hae-un: Yes. I've already issued the order.
They were planning to use the film as a pretext for a reward vacation to Okinawa.
Somehow, every time I go abroad, I end up pulling off one job or another.
Berlin. São Paulo. Okinawa.
It's an overseas trip, and if I don't even get to enjoy myself, it feels a little unfair.
Hawaii came to mind—the reward vacation after filming Summer's Closet. Son Jin-uk, Han So-hyun, and An Jun-ho, who had been with him then, and the other actors he had met afterward. All of them were under Saebyeol now.
Once the drama currently in production, Parabola, wrapped, it seemed they really ought to take a genuine vacation together with the Saebyeol roster.