The children’s vitamin commercial wasn’t something I had to do—it was something I chose to try.

Yes, the unexpectedly large fee played a part, and seeing my parents even more surprised than I was made me feel a strange, ticklish sensation in my chest. But that wasn’t all.

This was my first experience where the outcome could be significantly affected by my own will and effort. The time could end up as either something I’d regret or something I’d gain as an experience, depending on how I handled it.

I wanted it to be a meaningful time, something I could look back on without any regrets.

“Um, Director, may I ask you something?”  
“Go ahead, ask anything you’re curious about—except for my bank account password.”

His voice was encouraging, willing to answer whatever he could. So, I asked him about his vision for the commercial and exactly what he wanted to convey.

The director had already said I didn’t need to act out any particular emotions, that I should just run naturally on the track. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more he wanted.

“I’d like to understand your thoughts a bit better,” I ventured, aware that it might sound like a bold request.

Thankfully, he wasn’t annoyed or dismissive. Instead, he offered a more detailed explanation of his vision, which helped me get a clearer sense of what he had in mind.

The main problem, though, was still the lack of an opportunity to meet with Kim Min-jun, my co-star, before the shoot. Even just a day with him would help.

“Ha-eun, why are you so eager to meet Mr. Kim Min-jun?” my mom asked.

“I have something I want to ask him directly,” I replied, though I didn’t share the full reason with her. It was hard to explain in words—it felt vague even to me.

Since there wasn’t much I could do other than wait for the chance to meet Kim Min-jun, I spent my time studying the commercial storyboard after the meeting ended.

After all, this was also part of my preparation for my future streaming career. Filming a commercial with a national athlete isn’t exactly an everyday experience.

If I could weave unique experiences like this into my broadcasts, I thought I could create content that would stand out. Of course, if I shared everything verbatim, it might reveal too much, so a little creative adjustment would be necessary.

Time passed, and finally, about four days before the shoot, I got the chance.

“This Saturday? Yes, that’s fine.”

Finally, I would get to meet Kim Min-jun in person.

***

“Oh, so you’re Ha-eun! The genius girl who throws better than the starting pitcher!”  
“…...”

His eyes sparkled with curiosity and friendliness, and he extended a strong handshake. Our meeting that early morning was a bit more lively than I had anticipated.

But I achieved my main goal of meeting him, so all that remained was to spend the day observing him and figuring out how to keep my presence in the commercial from being overshadowed.

“Hmm, won’t you get bored just watching me train all day?” he asked.  
“No, really, just showing me your usual routine is enough.”

Like me, Kim Min-jun wasn’t used to acting, so his scenes in the commercial didn’t require him to act much either. He just had to run on the track, pass the baton to me in the middle, and that would be it. He had a few lines to record, but they wouldn’t appear on screen.

Since he was a national athlete, his presence would naturally shine through even in a simple running scene. If viewers ended up focusing on him instead of me, the essence of a children’s vitamin commercial could get diluted.

So, my goal was to find a way to make my presence stand out.

I observed his entire routine, from basic stretches to warming up, mealtimes, and even as the red sunset faded and the sky turned completely dark. I didn’t show any signs of boredom the entire time.

“Thank you. I think I’ve figured it out,” I said, bowing politely to him.  
“…Figured it out?” he echoed.

He seemed a bit taken aback by my serious tone and mature language, but he smiled and said, “Well, I’m glad I could help. It was nice meeting you, Ha-eun.”

“Same here,” I replied.

He saw me and my mom off with a friendly smile. Nowadays, kids tend to mature quickly, after all.

I was only six years old, but, well, there are always exceptions.

There was nothing wrong with him showing me his training routine, and I thought he’d answered all my curious questions with sincerity. When I met him again on the shoot day, he even greeted me with a polite nod, so it seemed he didn’t think I was any trouble.

Still, one thing stuck with me.

“What? You want to run with me?”  
“Yes. Can’t I…?”

Before the shoot, he was warming up to prevent any interruptions due to breath control, and I had asked him to jog a lap with me. Maybe I wanted to shake off the tension.

“Well, let’s start with some stretching, then.”  
“Yes.”

After helping me loosen up, we jogged slowly around the track together, just as I had requested.

As one of the crew members called out that they were about to start, he patted me on the shoulder for encouragement, giving me a friendly “Go get ’em.” I nodded, then returned the sentiment with, “Good luck to you too, Mr. Min-jun,” in a completely adult-like manner.

**‘So this is the kind of kid they cast for commercials,’** he thought, taken aback.

Ha-eun was, in every sense, an extraordinary kid. He couldn’t help but be impressed.

A short while later, the shoot began.

With the balanced, steady stride I had practiced for days, I ran toward Ha-eun and handed her the baton. Instantly, the cameras shifted focus, trailing after Ha-eun as she continued on.

But then, halfway down the track—

*Thud.*

In an unexpected stumble, Ha-eun’s feet got tangled, and she fell to the ground—a mistake captured by all the cameras.

Instinctively, one would expect Director Kang to call “cut” immediately. But instead, he stopped anyone who rushed over to help and said urgently, “Zoom in on Ha-eun’s face.”

Fortunately, there were no tears, but continuing to shoot seemed baffling to everyone but Director Kang.

Following his command, the cameras focused on Ha-eun’s expression as she slowly got up and jogged to the finish line, maintaining her composure.

It wasn’t until she reached the end of the track that Director Kang finally called, “Cut.”

He then walked over to Ha-eun himself, checking to make sure she was alright—a gesture that surprised the crew, who knew him as an unyielding presence on set.

“Get the first-aid kit and clean up her scrape. Young-tae, explain the situation to her mom,” he instructed.  
“Oh, uh… yes, sir.”

After leaving Ha-eun’s care to another staff member, he returned to his chair and began reviewing the footage he’d captured without the usual NG sign.

**‘…Interesting.’**

All he could feel was a sense of déjà vu.

In the footage, Ha-eun’s posture and the way she held her head mirrored Kim Min-jun’s style.

But in that one critical moment when her feet stumbled and the set fell into silence…

**Flash.**

Her gaze, fixed steadily on the finish line with complete determination, filled the camera frame. The initial sense of familiarity transformed, emphasizing her unique aura.

The contrast between her previously steady stride and the stumble only served to heighten the effect. With each step she took toward the finish line, her small frame rose steadily back to its original stance, her expression calm as if nothing had happened.

It perfectly encapsulated the essence of the commercial concept Director Kang had pitched a few days ago: 

**“I want to express Ha-eun’s calm confidence as a result of taking the vitamin, the kind that makes her ready to face any challenge.”**

**‘I had a good feeling about her.’**

Seeing this first take align so closely with his vision, a slight smile crept up on Director Kang’s lips.