[The One That Got Away | ver 1.3] Korean woman in her 20s. Charming college student vibe. Small face. Clear and pristine skin. Long straight black hair. Hair blown wildly by the sea breeze. White linen shirt. Light indigo denim shorts. White sneakers. Light and cool summer style. High concrete breakwater. Clear and blue sea. Crashing white waves. Strong sea breeze. Clear summer sky. The exact moment a giant silver fish slips right out of her hand. The fish twists its body wildly, falling toward the sea. Water droplets and shimmering scales scatter in all directions. The person instinctively throws her body forward. One foot steps all the way to the edge of the breakwater. The other foot barely maintains balance. Both hands stretch out desperately forward. The distance between the fingertips and the fish’s tail is about the width of one finger. A moment when she almost catches it, but never quite does. Eyes are wide open. Mouth slightly parted. A face that conveys both surprise and regret at once. Instead of a dress, the shirt and hair flutter greatly in the strong wind. The shot forms a single diagonal flow with the hand, fish, and sea. The fish tries to escape out of frame. Creating tension as if the person will chase it to the very end. Refreshing summer. Cool color palette. That decisive moment when she almost caught it, but finally let it slip away.