"Investigator?! Containment?! Silent Coffee Cup?!"
Jordan's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
He had never encountered such a forward-thinking concept in a movie before, let alone hidden away in a post-credits scene.
His heart pounded with excitement as he quickly fumbled for his notebook and began scribbling down every detail he could remember from the file that had flashed across the screen.
"Let me see," Keegan said eagerly, rubbing his hands together like a child waiting for candy.
It was the first time he'd ever sat through a movie long enough to catch an Easter egg after the credits, and he had been completely unprepared.
The scene had cut away before he could even properly digest them, leaving him both frustrated and intrigued.
Jordan handed over his notebook without hesitation. "Here. I got most of it down."
Keegan scanned the messy handwriting, his brows shooting upward as he read aloud: "Silent Coffee Cup… containment… Sunken Land… wow. This is incredible." He looked at Jordan with wide eyes.
"Do you think this means there'll be a sequel?"
"I think it's very likely," Jordan said, nodding firmly. His own excitement hadn't waned one bit.
At that time, however, there was still no concept of a cinematic universe.
The idea that different movies could be connected, forming a larger story, hadn't yet made its way into Hollywood.
It wouldn't be until later that summer, when Marvel laid down the blueprint with 'IRON MAN', that audiences would start to understand how films could link together like pieces of a puzzle.
For now, Jordan and Keegan could only speculate about a possible sequel to 'GET OUT'.
A direct follow-up seemed logical.
The idea of a sprawling, interconnected horror universe had not yet entered the public imagination.
Of course, the truth would become clearer the following month, when 'SAW' was released.
That was when everyone would realize that 'GET OUT' wasn't meant to have a sequel—it was just the beginning of something much bigger.
"Let's watch it together when it comes out," Keegan said, his tone half suggestion, half command.
"Sure," Jordan agreed with a grin. The thrill of discovery still buzzed inside him.
After leaving the theater, Jordan rushed home, his mind spinning.
He couldn't wait to post his findings online.
Sitting down at his computer, he opened the forum board that most film enthusiasts frequented in those days—before Facebook and Twitter would later transform the way people connected.
To his surprise, he saw that others had already begun talking about the mysterious post-credits scene.
Threads popped up with wild speculation, but most of the posts lacked detail.
Hardly anyone had taken the time to transcribe the investigation report shown on screen.
Jordan's notebook, however, contained nearly every word.
He typed furiously, sharing what he had seen in careful detail, along with his own interpretation of what it might mean.
Within minutes, the thread exploded.
His post was upvoted again and again, climbing straight to the top of the forum's front page.
Replies poured in.
Soon the discussion had passed one hundred comments, and the number of likes skyrocketed past ten thousand.
Even casual browsers who had no idea what 'GET OUT' was found themselves clicking into the thread just to see what the fuss was about.
By the end of the night, 'GET OUT' had broken through the internet for the first time.
If there had been a chart tracking the most talked-about topic online, Jihoon's low-budget thriller would have sat firmly at number one.
And Jihoon, with the foresight of someone carrying memories from another life, had been counting on this very moment.
He understood the raw, astonishing power of online communication in the internet age—how a single spark could ignite a wildfire of attention.
That was why, from the very beginning, his promotional strategy had leaned heavily on internet buzz.
Unlike traditional marketing, which devoured millions in ad spending, online chatter spread organically, cost-effectively, and most importantly, with an authenticity that no billboard or TV commercial could replicate.
So, without wasting time, he seized the opportunity.
His next step was bold: he launched the 'SCP Foundation', a fictional online organization that would feature "containment object" details directly inspired by 'GET OUT'.
In his previous life, Jihoon remembered the 'SCP Foundation' as a collaborative fan project, a community-driven website where anyone could contribute strange and imaginative entries.
But this time, things were different.
Instead of handing control over to the public, Jihoon decided to manage the website himself through JH's team.
Fans could still browse the "classified documents," discuss their theories, and even share their own fan art—but they wouldn't have the right to invent new containment objects on their own.
Instead, they could only suggest ideas. If any of those suggestions were later developed into a film, a game, or another piece of media, fans would be rewarded fairly under the site's clear copyright and licensing terms.
The website's design was crucial. Jihoon poured effort into making its interface immersive and convincing.
It wasn't flashy—it was subtle, cold, and clinical, the kind of style that made visitors pause and wonder if the SCP really might exist in reality.
Every detail, from the terminology to the formatting of the files, reinforced the illusion of a secretive global organization tasked with securing and containing supernatural anomalies.
That was the true purpose of the site—not just fan engagement, but to serve as the gateway to the HCU (Horror Cinematic Universe).
By giving audiences something to obsess over online, Jihoon was building a dedicated fan base even as 'GET OUT' continued to grow in popularity.
And grow it did.
Jihoon had no doubt that as 'GET OUT' reached more viewers, the SCP website would gradually gain traction.
Over the next three days, the film showed signs of becoming a dark horse hit.
Its daily box office revenue didn't just hold steady—it actually grew, defying expectations for a low-budget thriller.
Fox and JH had already thrown heavy promotion behind the film, but the real fuel came from the buzz Jihoon had helped ignite online.
On its opening day, Get Out stunned both audiences and analysts by pulling in $19.1 million—a remarkable start for a film that cost just $15 million to produce.
Many expected it to perform modestly, but what followed was even more surprising:
Day 2 (Saturday): $20.5 million (+7.3%)
Day 3 (Sunday): $14.8 million (–27.8%)
Day 4 (Monday): $7.1 million (–52%)
Day 5 (Tuesday): $7.8 million (+9.9%)
Day 6 (Wednesday): $7.1 million (–24%)
By the end of its very first week, the film had already grossed $88 million at the box office.
For Jihoon, these numbers were nothing short of extraordinary.
The film had captured the cultural moment perfectly. Riding the heightened social tension of the recent US presidential election, 'GET OUT' drew attention with its sharp, provocative screenplay and word-of-mouth buzz.
But beyond prestige, the real shock came from its financial performance.
This was a "small" horror film—low budget, niche audience, and released in March, a month often considered a dumping ground for studios.
Yet it wasn't just surviving; it was outperforming major studio tentpoles.
Because at the same time of it's release, Warner Brother had also rolled out their 10,000 BC, a massive spectacle with a bloated $105 million budget.
Industry insiders assumed the prehistoric epic would dominate the box office, but on opening day, Jihoon's little $15 million thriller sprinted past it.
That upset alone left professional analysts scrambling to explain what had just happened.
Nobody had expected 'GET OUT' to become the black horse of the month.
And yet, within just seven days, Jihoon's first Hollywood project had earned nearly six times its budget.
What was supposed to be a risky experiment—his opening move in building a Horror Cinematic Universe—had already turned into one of the year's biggest success stories in the Hollywood.
Analysts quickly shifted gears, predicting that 'GET OUT" would maintain strong momentum over the next three weeks.
Typically, niche films like Jihoons' saw sharp declines after their opening weekend, but Jihoon's film had one critical advantage: its lean production cost.
Even with natural drops, it didn't need astronomical numbers to stay profitable—unlike overstuffed blockbusters, which often required hundreds of millions just to break even.
Industry forecasts suggested that by the end of its theatrical run, 'GET OUT' could reach around $150 million worldwide.
And after theaters took their standard 55% cut, JH Pictures and Fox would still pocket an estimated value of $82.5 million in pure revenue—a staggering of 450% return on investment (ROI).
To put that into perspective, compare it with their competitor '10,000 BC'.
That film was projected to gross around $269 million globally.
Yet, after the same theater deductions, its ROI came out to just 40.9%, or about $42 million in revenue.
The contrast became even sharper when considering time factor involve.
Everyone who stay close to the industry knew that '10,000 BC' had been in production since 2003, eating up years of resources, while 'GET OUT' cause of it's low budget nature was shot and completed in just three to four months.
In the world of filmmaking, time is money, and no analyst needed advanced math to see which investment was smarter.
For a director making his first serious foray into Hollywood, Jihoon couldn't have asked for a better outcome.
Not only had he proven that smart, socially resonant horror could compete with spectacle-driven blockbusters, but he had also laid a rock-solid foundation for the cinematic universe he dreamed of building.