An anime-style image of a young man crouching to look at a scruffy dog on a rainy night outside a building, with a guitar visible inside.

make storyboard for Jinwoo was a promising solo artist in Seoul’s fiercely competitive music scene. With smooth vocals and heartfelt lyrics, he had carved out a loyal fanbase. But beneath the spotlight’s glare and roaring applause, a storm raged quietly inside him—crippling anxiety that twisted his chest, persistent self-doubt whispering he wasn’t enough. To the world, he was soaring. Inside, he felt like he was drowning in silence. Most nights, Jinwoo stayed late in the studio—not chasing perfection, but chasing peace. The hum of the city faded, the frantic noise of expectations muted. In those empty hours, he was just a boy with a guitar, raw and unguarded. One cold, rain-soaked evening, after pouring his soul into a song that left him drained and trembling, Jinwoo stepped outside, rain soaking his thin hoodie. His fingers trembled as he try to put his hood on. But before he could, a shadow flickered near the alley’s edge. A small, scruffy dog stood there, soaked to the bone. Ribs poked painfully through matted fur. But in those eyes—deep, aching pools—Jinwoo saw something he recognized all too well: loneliness. “Hey,” Jinwoo breathed, voice barely more than a whisper, crouching down. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” The dog hesitated, every muscle taut with fear and exhaustion. But slowly, cautiously, he stepped forward, nuzzling Jinwoo’s hand. The dog’s fur was cold and heavy with rain, smelling of streets and sorrow. Without thinking, Jinwoo opened the studio door. “Come See more