The fairy tale *The Little Match Girl* has no prince on a white horse, nor a kind-hearted fairy. The familiar phrase, "And they lived happily ever after," is also absent.
It’s simply the story of a girl who, in her final day, knew neither the warmth of a fire-filled stove nor the softness of freshly baked bread, struggling to survive.
“Matches for sale, matches for sale….”
She smiled at strangers who wouldn’t spare her a glance, only to find not salvation but rest in her final moments. A bitter story without any moral lesson or satisfying justice. While the story does feature people who later regret their indifference, the girl’s life has already ended, making their remorse meaningless.
The only thing that remains in people’s memory is the image of the girl, smiling until the very end, leaving behind a lingering sense of guilt.
This feeling of guilt is the strongest emotion that *Matchstick*, Double Lee’s new song, seeks to evoke.
Thus, the *Matchstick* music video had to embody this guilt. Ha-eun’s outfit, mirroring that of the matchstick girl from the fairy tale, contrasted starkly with the extras, dressed in the clothing of ordinary modern-day people.
The matchstick girl appeared just as she did in the storybook from childhood, while the people who ignored her wore modern attire.
This directorial choice emphasized the contrast between the one conveying emotion and the ones receiving it, making viewers of the music video see themselves as similar to those who ignored the matchstick girl.
However, this setup relied on the assumption that the image of the matchstick girl would indeed stir feelings of guilt. If the portrayal failed to evoke sympathy, the immersion would be lost.
This was the main concern for Lee Jun and Gun-yeol. In the music video, the matchstick girl smiles from beginning to end, but her dire situation, where even getting through a single day is hard, must be clear.
In other words, their version of the matchstick girl had to show misery through her smile, and despair through her laughter.
“Isn’t this asking too much of a child actor? Even adult actors struggle with that kind of nuance.”
“...Maybe you’re right.”
They wavered at the advice and concerns of those around them. The storyboarded image of the matchstick girl leaned more toward ideal than reality.
Still, Lee Jun had gone as far as pulling connections from his school days to bring an unconventional child actor to the set. And the result could be summarized in one word:
The exact vision they had once pictured was now captured on camera.
Her eyes, filled with both longing and emptiness, the gradually weakening gaze, her voice wavering between dryness and wetness—every detail was there.
The small, pitiful hand reaching into the empty air, as if grasping at a hallucination, then falling lifelessly to the ground when it caught nothing.
When that small hand finally met the cold, snow-covered ground, a single tear slipped from her faded eyes, filling the set with a stunned silence. Everyone was so moved by the forlorn silhouette before them that they scarcely dared to breathe.
“She said she’d never had acting lessons…”
Lee Jun mumbled to himself, staring blankly. Even Gun-yeol, who had anticipated a few NGs, couldn’t help but be taken aback.
It wasn’t the first time they’d seen Ha-eun acting as the matchstick girl. They had met with her over the past few days, getting a general sense of how she would appear on camera.
But because they had seen her before, her tears and heart-wrenching gestures hit even harder.
Director Cha Seon-jae’s voice brought the tension on set down, yet Gun-yeol’s gaze remained fixed on Ha-eun’s small figure.
Now, she appeared calm yet slightly tense, clutching a hand warmer given by one of the crew members, looking just like any other child her age.
And yet, the expression and gestures he had just witnessed lingered in his mind. The guilt toward the forsaken matchstick girl, felt in both his ears and his heart, refused to fade.
“Jun, I think that steak was a small price to pay.”
“You’re right. Steak was a bargain…”
They both realized that Lee Jun’s determination to secure Ha-eun’s contact information had been spot-on. Confidence surged in their minds: *This is it.*
Double Lee was one of the top hip-hop groups in the music industry. Their list of hits had long passed double digits.
Their fifth album, featuring *Matchstick*, had felt promising from the songwriting stage. With a deep, evocative music video to accompany it…
“Hey, did I… do okay?”
“If I said no, I’d be lying through my teeth. You were perfect, Ha-eun.”
They knew this video would cause a massive ripple throughout the music industry. Ha-eun, as the star of the video, was bound to attract attention.
However, they were aware that some of the attention Ha-eun received might not be beneficial. Since she wasn’t affiliated with any agency yet, there was a pressing need to protect her temporarily.
Perhaps Gun-yeol was being overly cautious, but he still set up another meeting with Ha-eun and her parents to discuss this.
“Ha-eun wouldn’t need to do anything if she joins our agency. We’ll handle all the minor interview requests and anything else that might come up.”
Gun-yeol felt confident that Ha-eun would inevitably gain fame, though he had no intention of pressuring her into it now. He simply wanted to protect her until the initial storm from the music video subsided.
“As you know, the entertainment industry isn’t exactly a clean place. There are plenty of people solely focused on profit.”
After all, it was Double Lee who had cast Ha-eun, and they had no intention of leaving her vulnerable in the middle of a fight over her newfound popularity.
Moreover, an exceptional child like Ha-eun was a valuable investment for an agency. They already managed several child actors, so they knew how to guide someone like her.
“Why are you going so far for Ha-eun?”
“Mr. Lee, in a few days, you’ll understand. Ha-eun… she’s truly a powerful presence in front of the camera.”
Lee Seong-yoon wore a puzzled expression, watching as a well-known celebrity praised his daughter. To him, Ha-eun was the same as always.
He’d heard from Na-yeon about how impressive her acting was, but he’d figured it was likely just on a child’s level. Wasn’t all this worry a bit overblown?
Still, if they were offering to protect Ha-eun…
There was no reason to decline.
“What do you think, Ha-eun?”
“Well, I think it would be best to follow what the uncles say… They’re experts, after all.”
“Alright. When you don’t know something, you listen to the experts.”
As always, he let Ha-eun make her own choice, supporting her decision.
A few days later, Double Lee’s *Matchstick* music video was finally released, and, as Lee Jun and Gun-yeol had expected, the reaction was explosive.
The video’s views skyrocketed daily, and articles discussing its content flooded the media. Ha-eun, naturally, became the main focus.
Her looks were captivating, but even more remarkable was how she seemed to bring the matchstick girl to life, evoking emotions far beyond what was typical for actors her age. People began to take a genuine interest in Lee Ha-eun.
Some even went so far as to dig up her past work, ultimately rediscovering the children’s vitamin CF. Sales of the children’s vitamins produced by Handong Pharmaceutical, already popular, surged once again.
This, at least, had been expected. They also carefully sorted through interview requests, accepting only those that would be beneficial for Ha-eun.
However, Double Lee, despite their ten-plus years in the entertainment industry, faced an unexpected situation.
“I can understand them wanting her for auditions, given how talented she is…”
“Then why oppose it?”
“If it were a regular audition, we might have mentioned it to Ha-eun. But a film for mature audiences is too much, isn’t it?”
The agency CEO was adamant about pushing Ha-eun into the audition, seemingly incensed that his child actors had been rejected for the role.
“And that title—*The Man Next Door*? Who names a film like that?”
No one could have guessed that this oddly titled film would one day make history in Korean action cinema, except for one person—Ha-eun.
Of course, Ha-eun hadn’t heard a word about the audition yet. Today, as always, she was playing judge at kindergarten, before walking home with her mother Na-yeon, who’d come to pick her up, and heading to the empty lot near their house.
Using a sturdy jump rope, she worked toward a healthier body.
“Huh, you can do double jumps so easily now… Should we start training you to be a national jump-rope champion?”