Diverting from the awkward moment, Jihoon quickly shifted the conversation.
"A… Actually, let's wait for the release of Saw," he said, clearing his throat. "I believe it's going to perform even better than Get Out."
He had good reason to be saying this word.
Because in his previous life, without his intervention, 'SAW' had already been an undeniable success.
The film broke through Hollywood's long-standing stereotypes of horror storytelling and revealed the true commercial potential of the genre.
More importantly, it pioneered what became known as the "torture horror" subgenre—a wave of films built on bloodlust, psychological dread, and shocking brutality.
And how it's was accomplished was also staggering: on a mere $1.2 million budget, 'SAW' grossed over $100 million worldwide, with about $60 million coming from North America and another $40 million from international markets.
But that was talking from jihoon past life, things were different now.
This time around, Jihoon with Jihoon involvement, as an Oscar winner for Best Screenplay.
With 'GET OUT' having delivered both box office numbers and critical acclaim, the foundation for his Horror Cinematic Universe (HCU) was already planted in the minds of fans.
Riding this momentum, Jihoon had every reason to believe that 'SAW' would surpass its previous record.
With the accolades, the hype, and a stronger promotional strategy backing it, he simply couldn't imagine 'SAW's' box office coming in under $100 million.
And he wasn't the only one feeling the anticipation.
Online forums were already buzzing.
Moviegoers who had just watched 'GET OUT' were eagerly discussing the upcoming release of the next series, excited to see another Jihoon-written, James Peli–directed collaboration.
For horror lovers, that pairing alone was more than enough to spark curiosity and guarantee ticket sales.
"Yeah! We should wait for Saw! That way our bonus will be even higher!" Mara exclaimed, her face lighting up with fresh enthusiasm, as if she had already forgotten Jihoon's embarrassment from earlier.
Jihoon allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, at Fox headquarters, executives were also quick to capitalize on the surge in popularity.
After witnessing 'GET OUT''s strong performance, they decided to increase their promotional investment for 'SAW'.
Anyone with real business sense could see the truth: if a film managed to ride the growing HCU wave, its success was practically guaranteed.
To align with Jihoon's strategy, Fox immediately took steps to broaden the reach of the Horror Cinematic Universe.
Instead of relying solely on traditional ads and trailers, they leaned into something smarter: immersive world-building.
They began heavily promoting the official SCP Foundation website, framing it as the lore-rich backbone of the HCU—much like how Marvel and DC had once grown their fanbases through decades of comic books.
But with HCU, the approach was far more cost-efficient.
Instead of pouring millions into printing and distributing physical comics, Fox and JH Picture understood that the SCP Foundation could expand entirely online.
Through viral marketing, interactive storytelling, and digital engagement, the horror cinematic universe could grow at lightning speed with just a fraction of the cost compared to their competitor.
The strategy worked almost instantly.
Cause right now on the website's homepage, fans were greeted with a startling update: the file for containment number SCP4-0731 had been officially declassified.
The reveal was designed purposefully to make the viewer feel less like fiction and more like a genuine government release.
So for fans who stumbled across it couldn't help but debate whether the event was staged or somehow real.
The deliberate blurring of fiction and reality fueled endless conversations online, that would steer some online commotion.
And on top of that, right beside the newly opened SCP file, another mysterious figure appeared—a placeholder for the next containment object.
Though its details remained undeciphered, its presence alone is already teased that more secrets were coming.
Making fans flocked to forums, dissecting every clue, screenshotting pages, and speculating wildly.
Now the HCU wasn't just releasing films; it was giving audiences an experience.
This wasn't just marketing. It was psychology.
By feeding audiences small but impactful updates, Fox and Jihoon ensured that people kept talking—online, offline, in fan groups, in classrooms, even at office water coolers.
The constant discussion acted like free promotion, keeping the HCU relevant between releases.
A single website update cost almost nothing compared to the massive budgets of traditional advertising, yet it generated hype worth millions.
At the time, this kind of strategy was still relatively new in film marketing. Hollywood had long relied on big posters, expensive trailers, and TV spots.
But Jihoon knew the truth: even the best film would flop if no one knew it existed.
Marketing wasn't optional—it was survival.
Take, for instance, the movie '2012'.
Back in Jihoon's previous life as an industry insider, he learned exactly how the film managed to succeed despite being, in many critics' eyes, nothing more than an average disaster flick with flashy CGI.
The producers spent nearly $100 million solely on promotion, tying the release of the film to the real-world buzz surrounding the Mayan apocalypse prophecy.
The marketing team treated it like an event, warning that "the world might end in 2012" and then cleverly linking that hysteria to the movie.
The gamble worked.
The film's total production budget was estimated at around $350 million, an astronomical figure.
But when it finally hit theaters, the apocalyptic buzz carried it to an impressive $750 million in box office revenue.
On the surface, it looked like a massive triumph.
But when you looked closer, the cracks showed.
Critics called the story shallow and the characters forgettable, with many audiences agreeing it was nothing more than a two-hour spectacle.
The real star wasn't the movie—it was the marketing campaign.
Without that Mayan Doomsday hook, 2012 might never have broken even.
What made it even more ironic was that the "prophecy" itself had been misinterpreted.
The Mayans had never predicted the end of the world.
In truth, their long-count calendar was simply marking the end of one major cycle and the beginning of another—a symbolic transition into a new era, not a cosmic doomsday.
But Hollywood wasn't interested in nuance.
The misinterpretation was too good to pass up, and for marketing purposes, it became the perfect apocalyptic backdrop to sell a disaster blockbuster.
In the end, the success of 2012 wasn't a testament to cinematic brilliance, but rather a reminder of how powerful hype can be when it taps into fear, curiosity, and the cultural mood of the moment.
The movie thrived not because of its story or characters, but because its marketing turned an ordinary disaster flick into a global "event."
Jihoon understood this lesson well when building his own HCU.
He knew that no matter how strong the films themselves were, effective promotion could make the difference between a modest release and a cultural phenomenon.
That was why the creation of the SCP Foundation became such a vital part of his strategy.
The SCP Foundation didn't just serve as a fictional universe for stories—it was also a marketing engine designed to cultivate a loyal fanbase.
By presenting itself as a collection of eerie reports, classified files, and urban legends, it blurred the line between fiction and reality.
This approach mirrored the marketing tactics behind 2012, which leaned heavily on the hysteria of the Mayan apocalypse prophecy.
Both relied on fear and curiosity to draw people in.
But there was one key difference: while 2012's promotional campaign was a one-time stunt tied to a single cultural moment, Jihoon's HCU was built for the long run.
The SCP Foundation wasn't a fleeting gimmick; it was an expandable framework that could grow, evolve, and keep audiences hooked for years.
By tapping into that sense of mystery and unease, Jihoon ensured that the hype surrounding his universe would not burn out after one film but instead become a sustained cultural force.