Chapter 2: Whispers of Ambition

I woke up from a dream.

No matter how much I thought about it, it seemed like a nonsensical dream, but the memories were still vivid in my mind.

Of all days, why did I have such a strange dream on my birthday? My feelings were conflicted.

But something felt odd. My eyes were still closed, but I sensed that the temperature was slightly different... A strange feeling crept in, and I slowly opened my eyes.

"Huh...?"

The ceiling was different. The once dark wallpaper had turned brighter. What is going on?

The usual morning signal hadn't arrived, the one I was used to feeling, and my body felt a bit lighter...

I sat up and looked around.

"What the... is this...?"

This was my childhood home, the house where I lived with my parents.

On the wall was a poster of Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey, which had hung in my old room.

As I stood in confusion, staring at the strangely familiar room—

Knock knock.

"Chan-hyun, time to eat."

Jun-seong? It was the voice of Jun-seong, my college friend from the film department, who had stayed at our house while my brother was away in the military.

What is this...

"Are you asleep? You're not answering. Uncle, Auntie, I think he's still asleep."

"Can you wake him up? He should eat with the family."

I heard my mother's gentle voice, a voice I had only heard in dreams since she passed away.

The last time I heard it was in a dream on the day I received the news of her passing.

"Hey, I'm coming in, alright? I've got the key right here."

"Wait! I'll be out in a second! Just wait!"

I couldn't control my trembling hands. My mother's voice... even in dreams, it felt like this.

Her voice came from the other side of the door. But whenever I opened the door in my dreams, all I found was an empty living room and dusty furniture.

I feared that, like in the dream, everything would disappear again.

I pinched my arm with my trembling hand. The pain was real.

If I wasn't waking up from this... if this was reality...

Bang bang!

"Hey! Get out here! They're waiting for you."

I took a deep breath. Then, cautiously, I unlocked the door.

There was Jun-seong, and behind him, at the table, were my father and mother, with my mom serving soup into bowls.

It really was my home.

I glanced at the calendar; it seemed to be the year 2000. My brother Sang-hyun was supposed to finish his military service in 2002, right?

"Father?"

"What?"

My father's response made reality sink in.

His blunt tone—though I had come to understand much later—was his way of showing affection.

"Mom?"

In response to my call, my mom looked at Jun-seong and said, "Why's he acting strange this morning, Jun-seong? Did he drink too much yesterday?"

"Huh...? Haha, no, not at all. He was just working hard on his graduation project, no alcohol involved," Jun-seong replied, fumbling for words, unable to act convincingly. Anyone could tell he was lying.

"Just sit down, you rascal. Don't make your mom worry. You came home late again yesterday. You know, if you keep this up, you might as well move out."

"Haha... ha..."

I let out an awkward laugh, took a spoonful of rice, and before I could even put it in my mouth, I couldn't stop the tears from falling.

"Oh my goodness, why are you crying? What did your dad say to make you cry?"

"Hey, woman, all I said was one little thing. There must be something else going on."

My parents' bewildered faces and Jun-seong sitting there, eyes darting around in confusion, unsure of where to look.

Wiping away the flowing tears, I shoved a spoonful of rice into my mouth.

"The food is... just so delicious... sob..."

_________________________________

After the meal, once I had calmed down, I lay down in my room, thinking about the conversation I had with Jin-myung, who had called himself the "God of Cinema."

"You want to make movies for that movie industry without directors? I can't allow that as the God of Cinema."

There are no directors. But if I look at my room, Stanley Kubrick seems to exist.

When I turned on the computer, it booted up with a strange sound.

Windows 2000. It was a blunt reminder that I was really back in the year 2000.

It took almost a full minute just to boot up.

The familiar Yahoo homepage appeared, and I slowly began searching for the directors I knew.

And one by one, I wrote down the names of directors who didn't exist in this world in the notebook in front of me.

"Quentin Tarantino, Martin Scorsese, Michel Gondry, Bong Joon-ho, Park Chan-wook, William Friedkin, Guillermo del Toro, Hirokazu Kore-eda..."

With each blank search result, I became more and more convinced that the conversation with the God of Cinema was not just a dream.

"What... is this..."

This situation reminded me of the movie Yesterday.

In that film, after a global blackout, The Beatles' songs disappeared from the world, and an unknown musician gained fame by singing their songs.

The Beatles' music was mostly self-composed, so without The Beatles, their songs vanished from history.

But movies are different. Many films are based on pre-existing works.

There were still a lot of directors left to search for, but I wanted to see what happened to films based on novels, so I searched for Jurassic Park.

The movie, based on Michael Crichton's novel of the same name, did exist.

But the director wasn't Steven Spielberg; it was someone named "Smith Bend," a name I'd never heard before.

Smith Bend's Jurassic Park had flopped miserably.

Though the movie existed because of the original novel, it seemed that the director's lack of ability had ruined it.

Knock knock.

"Chan-hyun, can I come in?"

It was Jun-seongs voice.

"Sure."

Lee Jun-seong—he had been my closest friend and classmate.

Even after my film flopped, he had kept trying to contact me for over ten years.

I heard later that, not long after I left Korea, Junseong became a successful producer.

Although his directing skills were lacking, his insight into movies was sharp.

Especially his ability to foresee commercial success, a critical skill for a producer, was something he had possessed even during our college days.

He had tried to stop me from making the movie that had ruined my directing career.

He had warned me that no production company or investors would take a chance on a script from an unknown writer, and that there was no way they would invest so much in a non-star director like me.

At that time, lost in my own delusions, I had thought Junseong was jealous. Looking back, I don't even want to face who I was then.

Jun-seong walked in with an awkward smile. Perhaps worried about his friend who had been acting crazy earlier, crying while eating, he cautiously approached.

"You okay?"

"I'm great."

"You're great? Then why were you crying? You freaked me out, you idiot. Who cries because the food tastes good at the dinner table?"

Looking at Jun-seong's face, I couldn't help but chuckle.

He was the guy who took care of my parents when I abruptly left Korea in my previous life, throwing everything away.

I'd also heard that when my younger brother was seriously injured, Junseong covered all the hospital bills.

But despite how grateful I was, I hadn't been able to bring myself to contact him.

I was too ashamed, even though I owed him so much.

Thinking about how I'd repay the debt with interest this time, a smile naturally formed on my face. But seeing me smile, Jun-seong frowned.

"Are you seriously laughing? Do you have some sort of illness? You were bawling just a minute ago."

"I'm fine, really."

"This is the first time I've seen you cry, and at the dinner table of all places. You can tell me anything. Is something going on? What's all this?"

Jun-seong glanced at the notes in front of me.

"Quentin Tarantino? Who's this guy?"

"He's someone... or was, anyway."

Quentin Tarantino was Jun-seong's favorite director.

He had once said, while watching Tarantino's films, which balanced artistic integrity with realism:

"Ultimately, a successful film director is judged by how well their movies perform. Look at Quentin Tarantino. Has any of his films ever flopped?

His screenwriting is flawless, his directing is flawless, and even his production is flawless. The acting? Maybe not perfect, but still... You should aim to become a director like Tarantino, but don't act, alright?"

He'd told me that countless times, insisting I had to become a director like him.

"There's so many names here. I've never heard of most of them."

"Oh, I was preparing names for future roles, you know, for when I make it to Hollywood. Haha…"

Jun-seong frowned at my response.

"Christopher Nolan? That name sounds weird. Nolan?"

"That name's great. Now, let me get back to work."

"You mean it? You're really starting on your graduation project? Finally? But seriously, there's so much to do—locations, actors—nothing's prepared! You haven't even decided on the age of the actors!"

"They're right here. I'll give you the script and storyboard by tonight. Just wait."

I pointed at my head with my finger, and Jun-seong frowned again.

"By tonight?"

"Just wait a bit. I'll give you something that'll blow your mind."

Grumbling, Jun-seong left my room, and my gaze naturally fell on the synopsis of Blue Moon, my original graduation project.

The time I've returned to is right before my university graduation.

Submitting a graduation project was one of the requirements for graduating from the film department that Jun-seong and I were enrolled in.

The format was a short film under 15 minutes, with a free choice of theme.

Originally, I would have submitted Blue Moon as my graduation project.

And to be fair, I received a lot of recognition for that work.

Thanks to this project, I was even contacted by several production companies. But compared to the movies I have in my head from 2022... it feels outdated.

Jun-seong felt the same way. He told me that, for a first film, it was good, but commercially, it was just average.

I remember our relationship being a bit strained for a few days after his harsh criticism. Looking back now, though, he was right.

I'm different from the past me now. I have countless films in my head, complete with directing techniques and camera angles.

I need to use this graduation project as a springboard to debut with a full-length film as quickly as possible. Turning a short film into a feature-length one isn't common, but there are precedents.

For example, Whiplash.

In order to secure funding for a full-length film about two men obsessed with jazz, director Damien Chazelle first made a low-budget, 18-minute short version.

And it was a huge success.

Because of the recognition he gained from Whiplash, Damien Chazelle was able to make La La Land, which swept the Academy Awards and established him as a world-renowned director.

I think starting this way might be good for me too...

I have two months left to submit my graduation project. There's no time.

Not only is time running out, but I'm also short on money. I rubbed my temples and started brainstorming.

What should I film? What genre should I choose? Something that fits a low budget, with no location constraints, yet can grab people's attention.

And then, an idea flashed through my mind.

A confined space thriller.

What confined space thrillers are there?

Cube by Vincenzo Natali, Panic Room by David Fincher, Phone Booth by Joel Schumacher, Saw by James Wan. None of these directors' names would show up in search results.

So that means... the genre of confined space thrillers itself doesn't exist yet?

I quickly picked up a pen and started writing the synopsis for my own confined space thriller. Within a few minutes, I was done.

Since it's a short film, I'll only need to shoot the key scenes.

A thriller that stimulates the audience's senses. That's what's needed right now.

______________________________________

Knock, knock.

"Hey, is it done yet? You said you'd give it to me today. It's 10 p.m. now. Don't you think we should have a serious talk about this assignment?"

Because my parents go to bed early, we'd usually head to a nearby bar to have late-night discussions.

We've spent countless nights there, talking about films until the bar closed.

Since my parents don't like us drinking, 'serious talk' became our code.

I grabbed my bag, which held the notebook with the storyboard I'd been working on since morning, the script, and the synopsis. I opened the door a crack and whispered.

"Do you have money?"

"You paid yesterday, so it's my turn today. Both your graduation and mine depend on what's in your head right now."

"Let's go."

As we quietly crept out of the room, we were caught by my mother.

"Where do you think you're going at this hour? Off to drink again, aren't you?"

"No, Mom."

"What? Then where are you going at this hour?!"

"We're going to talk about our dreams at the park for a bit."

"Dreams?"

Mom asked again.

"Yes, dreams. Like when I'll be able to show my film at the theater Dad runs, and other things. Are you really going to stop a bunch of youths from discussing such hopeful dreams?"

Mom frowned, while Dad nodded quietly in understanding.

His survival strategy: silent approval to maintain a peaceful relationship with Mom.

"Dear! You never listen to what I say in the morning!"

"You'll be back soon, right? Don't make your mother worry."

Dad spoke, and I smiled brightly as I answered.

"We'll be back soon. Don't worry and get some sleep!"