The mid-August heat weighed heavily on Jeju. The sea breeze offered some relief, but the air remained thick with humidity—just the kind of season Jihoon had chosen to film his new movie.
The sun shone brightly on the film set of 'Your Name', casting a long shadows as the film crew worked busily.
Everywhere, people moved with purpose. Assistants rushed to set up lights and cameras.
The wardrobe and makeup teams made final adjustments, ensuring every actor looked perfect for their scenes.
Actors walked around, scripts in hand, practicing their lines. Some were deeply focused, while others shared lighthearted jokes between takes.
In the midst of it all stood Kim Haesook, a veteran actress playing Yoona's grandmother.
She was known not only for her immense talent but also for her warmth and generosity toward younger actors.
"Yoona-ya, don't just say the line—feel it," Kim Haesook advised as they rehearsed a scene together.
"Your character isn't just speaking, she's remembering something painful. Close your eyes for a second, think of a real memory, then say it again."
Yoona nodded, taking a deep breath before trying again. This time, the emotion in her voice was noticeably deeper.
"That was much better!" Kim Haesook beamed, patting Yoona's shoulder. "You'll make me cry before we even start rolling!"
Nearby, Ji Changwook chuckled. "Sunbae, if I cry too, does that mean I get a free pass when I mess up my lines?"
"Absolutely not!" Kim Haesook shot back playfully. "You, Ji Changwook, have no excuse!"
The crew laughed as Ji Changwook raised his hands in surrender.
Standing a few steps away, Jihoon watched the interaction with a smile, knowing the young actors were in good hands.
Kim Haesook's guidance was invaluable, but Jihoon also took it upon himself to contribute to their acting skills.
During breaks, he would take the time to explain the exact expressions and emotions he wanted in a scene, sometimes even demonstrating them himself.
He had always admired Kim Haesook—not just for her remarkable talent, but for the way she nurtured those around her.
In the years to come, she would be widely recognized as "Korea's National Mother" for her many motherly roles in dramas.
But on this set, long before that title became official, she had already earned another affectionate nickname—"Mom"—given to her by the very person standing before her.
During a break, Jihoon casually called out, "Omma, do you want some water?"
Kim Haesook paused mid-sip of her drink and raised an eyebrow, nearly choking on the water. "Did you just call me Omma?" she asked, her voice filled with amused disbelief.
"Well, aren't you already acting like one?" Jihoon teased.
"You fuss over us, give us snacks, and scold us when we don't drink enough water. That's exactly what a mom does."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"If Director-nim calls Haesook sunbae omma, then we should too!" someone from the crew declared.
"Haesook Omma!" another voice joined in.
Before long, the entire set was echoing with the new nickname.
Kim Haesook let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand on her chest. "Aigoo... when did I suddenly become a mother to an entire film crew?"
Yoona leaned in, grinning. "Omma you better start preparing packed lunches for all of us!"
"Oh, I will—starting with you," she quipped. "No more snacks for you!"
The crew erupted into laughter because everyone on set knew that Yoona was a big eater.
Whenever she wasn't filming, she was either munching on snacks or finishing leftover lunch boxes from the set. It was nonstop eating—like a black hole that never filled up.
From that moment on, Kim Haesook wasn't just an esteemed veteran actress—she was their set mother.
Between scenes, she continued taking care of everyone—offering snacks, reminding people to stay hydrated, even scolding Jihoon when he tried to skip a meal.
"Omma, I'm really not that hungry," Jihoon tried to protest as she handed him a packed meal.
"Nonsense!" she scolded. "If you collapse on set, who's going to finish this movie?"
Jihoon sighed, accepting the food with a sheepish grin. "Thank you, Omma. Saranghae!"
"Aish, stop sweet-talking me and just eat!" she grumbled, though the smile on her face gave her away.
The atmosphere on set was unlike any other. Most film sets had strict hierarchies, with clear divisions between actors, crew, and directors.
There was often an air of authority that made people feel like they had to stay in their place.
But here, things felt different. Jihoon's presence and leadership had created a warm and comfortable environment—one where everyone, from lead actors to crew members, felt like family.
As the sun dipped below the Jeju horizon, the cameras kept rolling.
But what made this film special wasn't just the story they were bringing to life on screen—it was the unforgettable bonds they had formed behind the camera.
Filming was progressing smoothly, but Jihoon had carefully planned the schedule to make the most of their locations.
Since the movie was set between Seoul and Jeju Island, he had decided to complete all the Seoul-based scenes first before moving on to Jeju.
It wasn't just about convenience—Seoul was easier to manage in terms of resources and logistics. Unlike in 2025, where Jihoon originally came from, Jeju Island in 2006 was still underdeveloped.
The scenes set in Jeju required capturing villages, mountains, and dense forests—areas where roads and infrastructure were not yet fully in place.
Filming in those remote locations would present challenges, so it made sense to wrap up the urban scenes first before tackling the more complicated outdoor shoots.
This was different from his previous film, 'Secret', where most of the scenes were shot within a school and neighborhood setting.
That production had been relatively simple. But this time, they were truly embracing the unpredictable nature of outdoor shooting.
Now, during a short break from the shooting at Jeju, Jihoon sat in the director's chair, reviewing the clips they had filmed previously.
His eyes were fixed on the monitor, watching a partially edited scene from their Seoul shoot.
The camera opened on a cramped and bustling Seoul subway car. The hum of moving trains, the distant chatter of commuters, and the occasional station announcement created a vibrant backdrop.
In the middle of the crowd stood Lee Jiyong, the male lead, played by Ji Changwook.
Wearing a neatly pressed high school uniform, he had his head lowered, eyes scanning the pages of an English textbook. He quietly mouthed the words as he memorized them, completely absorbed in his own world.
The train jerked slightly as it moved, and at that moment, Gong Sunmin, played by Yoona, squeezed into the packed space and ended up standing directly in front of him. Dressed in a different school uniform, she hesitated before softly calling out to him.
"Yong... Yong, do you still remember me?"
Jiyong's eyes flickered up from his book, his expression shifting from focus to confusion.
He blinked. "Who is this girl?"
The subway lights flickered, casting fleeting shadows across their faces—a subtle yet powerful technique, showcasing Jihoon's mastery of using lighting to evoke emotion.
As the train sped past towering buildings, the shifting light and shadow played like a heartbeat, an unspoken rhythm mirroring the uncertainty between them.
The dim glow illuminated fleeting expressions, while the darkness swallowed hesitation and doubt.
Jiyong's gaze lingered on the girl before him, his brows slightly furrowed.
There was an intensity in her eyes, something that felt oddly familiar—like a half-remembered dream just beyond reach. It was as if they had shared something significant, yet his mind couldn't grasp it.
He searched his memories, flipping through faces of classmates, brief encounters, and distant moments. But nothing fit. Nothing about her presence made sense.
And yet, something in her gaze made him pause—like a whisper of a forgotten past, urging him to remember.
Still baffled, he finally asked, "Who are you?"
Sunmin hesitated. A flicker of disappointment flashed across her face before she quickly masked it, looking away. She had been so certain—so sure that he was the same Lee Jiyong she knew before.
Something about this felt... off. Her words, her expression—it didn't match the flow of an ordinary conversation.
But before she could say anything else, the subway jolted suddenly, making Sunmin stumble forward. Before she could steady herself, she crashed into Jiyong's chest.
For a brief second, everything froze.
Sunmin's hands pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his coat.
Jiyong, caught off guard, stiffened. His heartbeat quickened—not that he'd ever admit it. Embarrassed, he turned his head away, pretending nothing had happened.
Sunmin, face burning, quickly stepped back.
"This is so awkward!" she thought. She wanted to apologize, but words failed her. Instead, she glanced at Jiyong, hoping for some reaction.
But he looked distant. Almost… indifferent.
Her heart sank a little. Is this really the same Lee Jiyong I knew?
Jiyong, on the other hand, felt something was off. Why is this girl acting like she knows me? His brows furrowed slightly, but before he could dwell on it, the subway's robotic voice announced the next stop.
The train slowed, and Sunmin took a deep breath.
The subway doors slid open with a quiet chime. Sunmin stepped forward, ready to leave, her heart still tangled in the strange encounter.
Then, at the last moment—
"Wait!"
Jiyong's voice cut through the hum of the station, laced with urgency.
Sunmin spun around just as the train doors began to slide shut. Her breath hitched.
"What's your name?" Jiyong asked, his voice slightly breathless, as if he had only just realized the importance of the question.
Her eyes widened. For a split second, she hesitated—but before she could answer, the doors sealed between them with a final, unyielding thud.
Too late.
Through the glass, she saw him standing there, his gaze locked onto hers, searching for an answer he would not hear. The train lurched forward, steadily gaining speed, pulling him away.
People rushed past her, spilling onto the platform in waves, but she remained still, standing against the tide of movement.
Jihoon's cinematography captured it all—the contrast between the indifferent flow of reality and the silent gravity of this fleeting moment. It showed that while the world moved on, for them, time had stood still.
And then—she shouted. Her voice rose above the noise, chasing the departing train.
"Sunmin! My name is Gong Sunmin!"
Jiyong's eyes stayed fixed on her until the platform blurred into the distance, until she was nothing more than a fading image in the rushing cityscape.
Then, she was gone.
[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe and Daoist098135 for bestowing the power stone!]