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Episode 1
It was elementary school — probably first-grade art class.
“Alright! Today, let’s draw what you want to be when you’re grown up!”
Seon-woo grabbed his crayons.
Red, yellow, blue… he filled the whole sketchbook with color until it was bursting with brightness.
He wasn’t the only one.
His friend next to him, and the one beside that friend… everyone’s drawings sparkled, overflowing with every color imaginable.
Right.
…It definitely wasn’t some black-and-white movie like this.
Adjusting his tie, Seon-woo looked into the bathroom mirror.
A man in a black suit was staring back with a sullen expression. And not just him — the people beside him were the same.
All of them wearing black suits, their faces stiff with tension.
They were all job applicants waiting for interviews.
Those people, too, must have once gripped their crayons and drawn colorful futures.
A house with a red roof, trees in the background, themselves holding their parents’ hands.
But here, there were no houses, no parents.
No color at all.
“Number 32.”
“Ah — yes.”
“Come in.”
Seon-woo stood up.
Today, his name was Number 32. Ever since he’d started doing interviews, it felt like he was being called by numbers more often than by his own name.
“Mr. Kim Seon-woo?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You look presentable. So, how did you end up applying to our company…?”
“Ever since I was young…”
There’s really no need to repeat the conversation that followed in the interview room.
It was the same dull, colorless talk you could hear anywhere.
“Thank you for your time.”
What mattered was this: when the interview was over, none of their faces showed even the slightest spark of interest in him.
Which meant it would probably be hard to expect good news this time too.
“Yes — thank you!”
Thankful… for what, exactly?
Lowering his head out of habit, Seon-woo left the interview room.
Then he let out the sigh he’d been holding back.
Ever since graduating from college, every day had been like this.
Bowing, fixing his tie, squeezing onto the subway to go home…
The same process repeating like a wheel turning endlessly.
This isn’t it.
The grown-up he imagined as a kid wasn’t like this.
He thought he’d live a life that was cooler somehow — shining, beautiful.
He looked at his reflection in the subway window.
Every time the tunnel lights flickered, his figure appeared, then disappeared again.
Dull, worn out, lifeless. He was only twenty-six — people said this was supposed to be the age when flowers bloom — so why did he look so wilted?
He couldn’t even tell when things had become like this.
Even during that notoriously hard senior year of high school, whenever he thought about the future, he could still picture something kind of beautiful.
Now everything just felt pitch-black.
What should he do?
How was he supposed to turn this black-and-white life into color?
He was sure of one thing — he couldn’t keep going like this.
If he did, only a boring, shabby future would be waiting.
But that didn’t mean he had another path.
Right now, all he could do was… just keep scrolling through unfunny short videos.
And while doing exactly that, his finger suddenly stopped.
# Acceptance speech from Seong Do-won, the youngest ever Best Actor winner
<< To all the fans, the people at my agency, and… >>
Youngest Best Actor, huh…
He looked at the actor’s face. He really was handsome. But more than that — his eyes…
They sparkled.
He didn’t know much about the actor, but he could say one thing for sure.
The actor’s days must be completely different from his — bursting with color.
Just look at that scene.
The blazing red carpet, the dazzling golden trophy, gowns made from the most beautiful colors imaginable…
Before the speech was even over, Seon-woo swiped past the video.
Yes — it was because he felt jealous. Watching any longer would only make his stomach churn.
That’s the downside of social media.
Sometimes, it’s better not to know. But it keeps showing you that there’s another world right next to yours — one you can’t even imagine having.
For the sake of the nation’s right to happiness, social media should be abolished.
He was thinking such ridiculous thoughts on yet another ordinary day.
“I’m home.”
“Hey. Kim Seon-woo. Got plans tomorrow?”
The moment he walked in, a long-haired man spoke to him.
It was his older brother, Seon-jun.
“…No plans. Why?”
“Great. Perfect. You’re coming somewhere with me tomorrow.”
“Why do I have to go anywhere with you…?”
“We need to leave by ten, so don’t stay up too late.”
“At least tell me why…!”
“Why? Hm.”
Scratching his head, Seon-jun replied:
“We’re gonna shoot a movie.”
“…Huh?”
Back then, Seon-woo had no idea.
…That from this day on, color would finally start filling his life.
Seon-jun was an amateur film director.
He’d even graduated from film school, and now he was preparing to become a director.
At the moment, he was working on something to submit to a “1-Minute Film Contest.”
“But that jerk talked to me like an idiot.”
Apparently, he’d gotten into a fight over drinks with the actor who was supposed to appear in it.
And the reason was absurd.
“He said Tarantino is third-rate. Third-rate! How am I supposed to shoot a movie with some clueless idiot like that?”
“…Isn’t Tarantino technically a B-movie director?”
“You have three seconds to take that back. Three… two…”
“I take it back.”
“Good. Little brother — you don’t speak lightly about the great god Tarantino. Got it?”
“…Yeah.”
So the fight was because someone insulted Tarantino.
It was surprising they’d argue over something like that — but also very on-brand for Seon-jun.
He’d always been the kind of person who had to do things his own way.
Say what he wanted, live how he wanted, do whatever he wanted…
But there was nothing to criticize about that.
If anything, it was a little enviable.
Unlike him, Seon-jun’s life always felt… colorful.
“Anyway, thanks to that, my whole schedule’s ruined. I already paid the location deposit, rented the equipment… I can’t just cancel.”
“…So why me?”
“I tried finding another actor. But nobody wants to do it for free.”
“So I’m not getting paid either?”
“I’ll buy you chicken later.”
“…With bones?”
“No — boneless. Bones are annoying.”
What a crime against flavor.
They really had nothing in common.
But that wasn’t the real issue.
“This doesn’t make sense. I’ve never acted before. If you suddenly tell me to act, what am I supposed to do? Wouldn’t it be better if you did it?”
“If I could, I would. But even though I definitely look better in real life… I think you’ll look better on camera.”
In other words, the face mattered.
It was probably the first time his brother had ever complimented his looks. Seeing Seon-woo’s skeptical face, Seon-jun added:
“And don’t worry. It’s only one minute long, and there isn’t a single line of dialogue. Look at the script — then you’ll get why I asked you. You think I’d drag someone with zero acting experience for no reason?”
“…Alright.”
And so, he ended up at the filming location.
Even if he’d refused, he would’ve been dragged there anyway.
Better to just get it over with.
“Here — read the script.”
It was his first time ever reading a script.
Well, Faust is technically a script too, but… this felt different.
And surprisingly — it was interesting.
So this is how stage directions work…
The way it handled emotions was fascinating.
Instead of directly explaining what the character felt, it instructed the actor’s expressions and actions.
Interpreting the emotions beneath those actions — that must be the actor’s job.
Maybe that’s why actors scribble so many notes onto scripts.
And just as he thought the main character felt a bit unusual…
Pop — something like a soap bubble floated up from the script.
He froze.
What? A magic trick? Did Seon-jun plan some kind of prank?
No — that couldn’t be it.
He stared blankly at the bubble.
At first he thought it was just soap — but it wasn’t. It was made purely of color and light — a violet bubble.
The impossible sight made fear prickle up inside him.
What was happening? Had the job-hunting stress finally driven him crazy?
With a dazed expression, he slowly reached out to touch it.
There’s no way it’d actually be solid, right?
Pop!
The bubble burst.
“…!”
And in the next moment, the color that exploded from it washed over him.
