Snowflakes drifted slowly down. It was a December day, the first day of shooting for the *Matchstick* music video.

From the moment she left home early that morning, to the time she arrived on set instead of her usual kindergarten, Ha-eun’s small hand clung tightly to her mother, Song Na-yeon.

“Nervous?”

At her mother’s gentle question, Ha-eun shook her head slightly. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t nervous at all, but more than anything, she didn’t want her mother to worry.

Besides, Ha-eun had already memorized almost everything about the character of the matchstick girl she’d be portraying today. In the past few days, she’d met with the Double Lee members multiple times and discussed the ideal portrayal they envisioned.

Since she wasn’t a professional actor, she’d been reassured countless times that she didn’t need to worry about a few NGs (no-goods). After all, it wasn’t her first time in front of the camera.

She had done all the preparation she could. Yet, her expression still lacked its usual confidence.

“Oh, Ha-eun, you’re here early.”

“…Hello.”

The reason was simple: it was her first time acting seriously enough to be called an “actress” by someone else.

In the children’s vitamin CF, the only “acting” she’d done was running as if she were jogging. She had even added a bit of falling down for effect, so she wouldn’t be overshadowed by the presence of the national athlete, Kim Min-jun.

But the performance expected of her in the *Matchstick* music video was far more detailed and complex than that.

Every expression, atmosphere, and even the smallest gestures had a precise answer. She had to make sure not to stray from the matchstick girl image that Lee Jun and Gun-yeol envisioned.

It wasn’t that she lacked confidence. It was just that the expectations from the Double Lee members didn’t feel light.

They had placed their trust in her after seeing only a single CF. At the very least, she felt she should do her best.

“Ha-eun, over here.”

A familiar voice called out from a distance, and when she turned her head, she saw Lee Jun waving at her. Beside him, Gun-yeol stood with a serious expression, reviewing the storyboard one last time.

“Hello.”

“Oh, you’re here. Let’s get you to the dressing room first.”

Following Gun-yeol’s lead, she headed to the dressing room, where she was reunited with the matchstick girl outfit they’d selected as the best fit after trying on several versions a few days ago.

With her mother’s help, Ha-eun transformed from head to toe into the matchstick girl. Even though she’d worn the outfit a few times before, it felt different on the day of the shoot.

“Wow… you really look like the matchstick girl, Ha-eun. You look so beautiful.”

Ha-eun’s outward appearance was serene, a stark contrast to her slightly tangled inner feelings. Both her mother, who adored her, and the makeup artists waiting in the dressing room praised how well the outfit suited her.

The bright red costume contrasted strikingly with her pale skin. A small, detailed basket prop completed the look, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Alright, let’s fix your hair a bit and do some light makeup.”

With the gentle hands of a makeup artist, Ha-eun closed her eyes. The brush tickled her face, but remembering they’d have to start over if she moved, she did her best to stay still.

-Click.  
-Click, click, click.

The occasional camera shutter sound made it obvious who was taking photos without needing to open her eyes. Although it was a little overwhelming, she didn’t feel strongly enough to ask them to stop.

“All done, Ha-eun. You can open your eyes now.”

Even after she was transformed by the skilled makeup artist, Ha-eun remained silent.

“How do you feel, Ha-eun? Do you like it?”

“…Yes.”

She was honestly surprised herself. It made sense why her mother hadn’t stopped taking pictures.

Maybe it was because this was her first time seeing herself so fully transformed. She found herself gazing silently into the mirror, taking in every small detail.

About ten minutes later, they received word that it was time to start filming. She clutched her mother’s hand once more.

“Will you… watch me while I film?”

“Well, I’d love to see you act, Ha-eun, but I think I’d make you more nervous if I watched.”

They walked toward the set, chatting softly with Ha-eun’s gaze slightly lowered. Soon, they arrived at the place where Ha-eun’s stage for the day awaited.

Large cameras were positioned around the set, and several lights were mounted on movable stands. Staff members bustled around, adjusting cameras and light angles.

“Light number three’s dim. Can we increase its brightness a bit?”

“Everyone, grab hand warmers. Don’t let yourselves get frostbite.”

One person adjusted the camera, while another fine-tuned the angle of a light.

Momentarily overwhelmed, Ha-eun stopped in place. This wasn’t her first time seeing such a setup, but it wasn’t familiar enough for her to call it comfortable either.

As she took each step, she felt the weight of the gazes around her. Extras, camera operators, and various staff members all turned to look at her.

Feeling a surge of nerves, she took a deeper breath. Despite the tension, she gathered her composure and slowly opened her mouth.

“Hello.”

She greeted everyone she met with a gentle bow. After all, a child who greets others warmly is always bound to make a good impression.

Continuing to bow politely, she found herself eventually standing in the center of the set. Director Cha Seon-jae’s voice called out to her.

“Ha-eun, could you come here for a second?”

The deep voice indicated he had something to explain. Walking over with her mother, Ha-eun saw a mat with a pattern resembling paving stones.

He asked her to examine it and, upon closer inspection, she saw that the pattern was so intricate that it was hard to tell it wasn’t a real street.

“When we shoot the falling scene, you’ll fall onto this mat.”

He assured her the mat was soft enough that she didn’t need to worry. A compliment about how well her outfit suited her followed.

After bowing slightly and thanking him, she released her mother’s hand, finally ready to go to her mark.

With the director’s “Standby,” the set grew busy. Extras moved to their places, and the lighting crew adjusted the final angles of the lights.

“Hoo…”

Taking another deep breath as she watched everyone prepare, Ha-eun steadied herself. All that remained was to bring the matchstick girl from the storyboard to life.

As Ha-eun blinked a few times, Lee Jun and Gun-yeol, standing off in the distance, shifted their focus from her to the camera screen showing her image.

“Alright, everyone get ready… Action!”

With Director Cha Seon-jae’s shout, Ha-eun’s first music video shoot began.

---

-Swish.

The snowy city street. People hurried toward their destinations.

Amid the crowd of people walking with purpose, a small shadow stood still.

In her chapped hands, she held an old matchbox. Her clothes, seemingly stitched and patched from adult-sized pieces, looked too flimsy to withstand the winter chill.

“Matches… for sale…”

Her voice was so quiet that it could barely be heard. Perhaps that’s why, or maybe people just didn’t want to listen.

The passersby didn’t seem to notice her. Or, if they did, they chose to ignore her.

-Thud.

“Ouch…”

Bumped by someone’s elbow, the small girl stumbled, finally collapsing to the ground. The little wooden basket in her hands fell over, spilling its contents.

The person who’d knocked her down kept walking without so much as a glance back.

Without a word, the girl picked herself up. With a youthful smile reappearing on her face, she held up her matches to the people passing by, her breath visible in the cold air.

But time passed, and her basket remained as full as ever. Only the snow on her hair and shoulders continued to accumulate.

From afar, the sound of laughter drifted by. Unconsciously, she looked toward the sound, and her gaze met the eyes of people chatting over warm coffee in a café.

But as quickly as they looked at her, their gazes returned to each other.

Left alone, the girl looked at her reflection in the café’s glass.

-Hoo.

A white puff of breath rose. Finally, unable to endure the cold, she pulled a match from her pocket.

-Swish.

A small flame flickered to life, briefly illuminating her face.

But a gust of wind snuffed it out almost immediately, casting her face back into shadow.

A second match flared to life, only to be extinguished again by another breeze, leaving behind a thin wisp of white smoke. Her head slowly drooped.

“Matches… for sale…”

Her gaze no longer met that of the people on the street. Yet she forced the corners of her mouth to rise, showing a smile instead of tears.

-Swish.

Once more, a soft glow spread across the snowy ground. At the same moment, a single drop of warmth trickled down her cheek.

For a fleeting instant, her eyes shone red, though her lips held a faint smile.

Her gaze, drifting downward, showed a small, pitiful body crouched to hold onto what little warmth she had.

Finally, in the last moments, as night deepened and fewer people walked the streets…

“I… missed you.”

Her young eyes lifted

 to the sky, carrying a faint expression other than a smile.

And with that, it was over.

The night grew darker, and the snow continued to fall.

By morning, the girl was nowhere to be seen.

Only an empty matchbox lay in a snowy corner of the street. Other than that, there was nothing left.