Collectible games are dangerously enticing due to the many points where players are encouraged to spend. There’s always something new to buy and collect, and before you know it, your bank account is empty.
Bong Jinwoo aimed to tap into this mentality, and his strategy paid off with immediate audience reactions.
Audience Reactions:
Though reactions varied, it seemed as if some were watching different versions of the same play. This piqued curiosity, and soon, they realized:
Audience Realization:
No matter how good the content is, a play primarily for children rarely attracts a massive audience. So Bong Jinwoo created two versions of The Story of Stars and Moon: one for general audiences and one for children. This was why the script Kim Donghu received initially differed from the one for the orphanage children.
In business, it’s crucial to cater to your audience’s perspective. The main storyline didn’t change, but subtle tweaks in direction and dialogue were essential.
“The stakes are high now; I can’t afford for anyone to suffer losses.”
Bong Jinwoo, a director passionate about inspiring children, was also an orphan who’d matured early. Even with new funding, he kept his feet on the ground.
Creating a version solely for volunteer work was a miracle in itself. He’d achieved a miracle, and now, it was time to face reality.
Thus, the Pilot was no longer merely regretful but embodied adult greed; the Foolish Tree and Volcano, while loyal to the Little Prince, were flawed in their own ways.
Adults on other planets each had unique desires, and while the Fox spoke of domestication, it reminded the audience that knowing and acting on that knowledge are two different things. The vast rose garden was filled with envy, jealousy, and vanity, with only one truly loving rose—the Little Prince’s unique thornless rose.
Audience Perception: Bong Jinwoo didn’t think, “This play is for kids, so everyone should enjoy it.”
After all, there’s a difference between how children and adults view innocence. Therefore, The Story of Stars and Moon had to split into two versions. Charity was essential, but the goal was success.
If all proceeds were donated to orphanages, the more revenue, the better. Bong Jinwoo knew that watching a play could inspire hope, but that effect wouldn’t last forever. Reality would inevitably return, bringing its challenges.
The public version of the play became incredibly popular, with an all-star cast and actors who resonated with the audience in a way that compelled repeat viewings.
Thus began the intense ticketing war, and the next month and a half passed in a blur.
August arrived, marking the start of Troupe Spark’s celebratory dinner.
Five months after Troupe Spark’s formation.
After spending so much time rehearsing and working together, Troupe Spark members had become close friends. If one relationship stood out, it was Kim Donghu and Kim Sujin, who were always seen together.
They’d embraced at least a hundred times during rehearsals, making physical contact between them feel entirely natural.
Normally, such behavior would invite teasing, but Kim Yuryeon, with a protective “goblin face,” warned everyone to back off.
Given the setting, it wasn’t unusual for relationships to evolve. Spending over a month performing a romantic comedy together often led to real-life romance.
“Alright, everyone! Great job! But before we celebrate, let’s hear from our director!”
The dinner began with Bong Jinwoo’s speech.
“Um, wow... This past month has been like a dream. I have so much to say, but I’m not great with words. But still, I want to dedicate all the glory to Kim Donghu, who got this ball rolling!”
Everyone burst into laughter, knowing he was right. The small spark Kim Donghu lit had grown into something much bigger. Amid the laughter, Kim Sujin leaned subtly against Kim Donghu.
“Are you dizzy? You haven’t even had a drink.”
“I can still feel dizzy!”
“You were fine earlier. Why now?”
“Maybe check on me first instead of questioning it?”
“It just seems odd, that’s all.”
A collective sigh escaped from those nearby.
“Our maknae has zero sense when it comes to this.”
Han Taegon, unable to take it any longer, was about to stand up, but Kim Yuryeon grabbed his wrist.
“Taegon, let the kids be.”
Her meaning was clear: Don’t mess with my daughter’s love life.
And just then—
“Forget it!”
Kim Sujin, losing patience, stood up abruptly. Just as the atmosphere threatened to turn awkward—
“Where are you off to, my Rose?”
Kim Donghu pulled her into a tight embrace. Nearby, Jin Myungtae noted that the right face can make even the cheesiest lines work.
All the supposed awkwardness melted away, as Kim Donghu’s charm made the scene feel endearing rather than cringeworthy.
“…When you pushed me away earlier, now you’re doing this?”
“It felt right now, so here I am.”
“Kim Donghu, you’re driving me crazy!”
Kim Sujin smiled, lightly hitting Donghu before settling back down.
Watching it unfold was like seeing a scene from early 2000s internet novels come to life. The reason the male lead’s appearance was always ranked number one was now crystal clear.
“It only works with that kind of face,” thought Jin Myungtae and everyone else.
On the restaurant TV, a discussion about Troupe Spark and The Story of Stars and Moon began, met with widespread praise:
[“They’ve made an unbelievable impact. Their charitable donations and influence have encouraged social awareness across the country.”]
The screen filled with compliments, shining a spotlight on Troupe Spark’s success.
Troupe Spark and The Story of Stars and Moon had carefully prepared separate versions for kids and adults, intending to appeal to a broad range of audiences. With ongoing promotions and interviews, Troupe Spark’s status as an exceptional and once-in-a-lifetime troupe was solidified.
Among those tracking their success was Baek Sangha, the manager of the gym where Kim Donghu trained and a former star athlete with a history in special forces. Watching a wall of accolades showcasing Donghu’s achievements, he nodded in satisfaction.
“As expected of Donghu.”
But whenever he thought of the one inevitable obstacle in Donghu’s future, he couldn’t help but worry:
“Military service.”
As a South Korean man, Donghu would eventually have to fulfill his national duty. There were options like evading service by going overseas, but Baek Sangha knew that wasn’t in Donghu’s nature.
Baek Sangha had found another solution:
“He could win an Olympic medal.”
With the 2016 Olympics in Brazil on the horizon, if Donghu were to win a medal as part of the national boxing team, he would earn a military exemption while bringing honor to his country.
It would be a jackpot for Donghu’s future.