As expected, words were nothing more than games for the clever.
No matter how carefully one phrased them, their meaning could always be twisted to suit someone else's agenda.
And in Korea's relentless media cycle, that was exactly what happened.
The very next morning, headlines spread across every major news outlet like wildfire—each one exaggerated, distorted, or sensationalized in its own way:
[Breaking News! Our very own Korean film director makes a historic breakthrough in Hollywood! His debut sweeps the Oscars and crosses $100 million at the box office—a legendary achievement that will be remembered in Korea's history books!]
[A screenplay turned into a commercial hit—learn from Jihoon-ssi himself, the genius behind the success!]
[A Korean conquers Hollywood—bold confidence or just a young man's show to attract attention?]
[Exclusive Scoop! Shilla's Lee Boojin exposed as the real power backing JH! Purely business—or a relationship negotiated behind closed hotel doors?!]
When Jaehyun forwarded these headlines to Los Angeles that morning, Jihoon was still groggy from the early morning.
He opened the messages, blinked twice in disbelief, and immediately received a call from Jaehyun.
On the other end of the line, Jaehyun's voice carried a teasing lilt.
"Jihoon-ah… since when did JH start making business deals behind hotel doors?"
Jihoon was speechless.
He pressed his fingers against his temple, rubbing the vein that throbbed in irritation. He could practically hear Jaehyun grinning through the phone.
"Hahaha," Jaehyun chuckled, unable to resist. "Didn't I warn you before? Either you reveal your family background on your own terms, or you prepare yourself for whatever nonsense the public decides to cook up once they dig around."
Jihoon let out a quiet sigh.
He understood where Jaehyun was coming from.
His reputation wasn't just his own anymore—it was inseparable from JH.
In the entertainment industry, he was the brand, one that needed to be carefully polished and protected.
Any negative scandal, no matter how trivial, could ripple into box office numbers.
The damage might not be as catastrophic as it would be for a celebrity, compared to him as a film director, but it would still leave a mark.
Of course, Jihoon was certain the media wouldn't dare go too far.
If they tried to drag his late mother into the spotlight, the Lee family would intervene before the story could ever see print.
The last thing the family wanted was for her disgrace to be paraded like tabloid gossip.
Still, Jihoon had no intention of relying on them to do his dirty work.
He had chosen to walk his own path, separate from their influence.
Luckily, despite the ridiculous spin of some reports, the overall narrative remained positive.
In fact, the internet was buzzing with praise.
Social media lit up with posts celebrating him as a trailblazer, the young Korean filmmaker who had crossed into Hollywood and succeeded where so few had dared to try.
For most Koreans, Hollywood still loomed like an untouchable giant, a dream factory where success felt almost mythical.
That was why Jihoon's achievement struck such a powerful chord.
To Jihoon, it felt modest—just the first step of many he intended to take.
But to everyone watching back home, Jihoon was no longer just a filmmaker—he was becoming a trailblazer, carving out a path that many believed could open doors for an entire generation of Korean creatives.
For the first time, people began to dream beyond their own borders. They imagined a future where Korean showbiz wasn't confined to Seoul or Busan, but could one day stand side by side with Hollywood on equal footing.
Of course, if Jihoon knew what they were daydreaming about, he would have probably given them a sharp slap to wake them up. In his eyes, their hopes were nothing but wishful thinking.
Even if he had the power to pull others into Hollywood's, why should he?
In fact, by now Jihoon didn't see them as threats anymore—not when he had grown so powerful on his own terms.
For him, filmmaking was more than just a business; it was both a passion and a weapon of influence.
And influence, more than anything else, had become his true shield.
Take his film 'YOUR NAME', for example.
Even years after its release, the movie still continued to draw waves of tourists to Jeju Island, eager to see the breathtaking locations Jihoon had immortalized on screen.
From that single project had boosted Jeju's tourism GDP, revitalized local businesses, and created jobs.
And to the local authority at Jeju, it wasn't just a box office success—it had turned the place into an economic asset for the island.
Up till now the mayor of Jeju still sent him holiday greetings and personal messages of thanks, acknowledging how Jihoon had helped elevate both the island's economy and Korea's cultural image abroad.
That recognition was his first shield.
Then came the global accolades—the Cannes recognition and the Oscar win.
Those trophies didn't just sit on a shelf; they became symbols that positioned Jihoon as the face of Korean cinema.
Suddenly, industry figures around the world had no choice but to pay attention to him.
That international prestige was his second shield.
And now, with his career firmly planted in Hollywood and his partnership with 21st Century Fox, Jihoon had found yet another layer of protection.
Making films was one thing, but making money for Fox—arguably the most powerful player in the industry—was a whole new level of security.
That alliance was his third shield.
With those shields around him, the people who once tried to control Jihoon quickly shifted their strategies.
They could no longer treat him as a vulnerable money-making machine to be manipulated at will.
Jihoon's name now carried weight far beyond Korea, and that global recognition made him untouchable in ways no one could have predicted.
This wasn't just 'soft power.'
It was influence backed by networks, money, and political leverage. Anyone foolish enough to move against him risked consequences far greater than they could anticipate.
What set Jihoon apart wasn't only prestige—it was the tangible value he brought to those who shared common interests with him.
And those allies, powerful in their own right, knew how to protect what was theirs.
The proof of Jihoon's rising influence became undeniable with the release of 'GET OUT'.
The film was not only a commercial triumph—it carried political weight.
It struck directly at America's ongoing struggle with racism, and in doing so, it aligned itself with the values of Hollywood's long-standing ties to the Democratic Party.
In such circles, politics and culture often move hand in hand, each reinforcing the other.
It wasn't long before American politicians began praising Jihoon publicly.
In interviews, they applauded his courage for wielding cinema as a weapon against racism, calling his work a vital cultural statement.
Hearing such words on international platforms sent ripples—if not outright shockwaves—through Korea's own political and media circles.
For Jihoon's detractors back home, the message was impossible to ignore: if politicians in Washington were willing to stand up for him, what realistic chance did they have of bringing him down?
And one should never underestimate seasoned politicians.
They know when to elevate someone into a symbol—and more importantly, they know how to use that symbol to their advantage.
For those whose careers and campaigns were rooted in fighting racial injustice, aligning themselves with Jihoon wasn't just optional—it was politically necessary.
Supporting him lent credibility to their message; opposing him risked dismantling their own carefully built narrative.
That's why the phrase 'soft power' is often misunderstood.
It doesn't mean powerless. It means influence woven through countless invisible threads—political, cultural, and economic—each one strengthening the other.
And as if that weren't enough, Jihoon had Fox standing firmly behind him.
Hollywood's embrace only raised his value further.
The more money he generated, the more secure his position became. In the entertainment industry, profit was protection. As long as Jihoon was delivering results, Fox had every reason to shield him.
Which meant, no matter how hard some back home tried to drag him down—by smearing his reputation or sabotaging his projects—the odds were stacked heavily against them.
Jihoon was no longer just a young Korean filmmaker; he was a global figure with allies too powerful to ignore.
Back at the moment, while Jihoon was still on the phone with Jaehyun, their conversation took an unexpected turn. Jaehyun suddenly paused as if something had just crossed his mind.
"Oh, right… Jihoon-ah," he said.
"You asked me to sign Sulli up for a sign language class before you left for Los Angeles. She's been doing pretty well so far, but… what's the point of it? Why sign language, of all things?"
His voice carried a mix of curiosity and confusion, still puzzled about Jihoon's unusual request.
Jihoon chuckled lightly on the other end of the line.
"Oh really? That's good to hear. Don't worry too much about it—it's nothing urgent. It's just for one of my future film projects. As long as Sulli learns it well enough, that'll be more than enough."
There was a brief silence before Jaehyun let out a frustrated sigh.
"A future film project?"
"Seriously, can't you at least give me a heads-up next time? Don't just make me run around guessing what's going on in that crazy head of yours! You brat!"
Though he sounded irritated, there was no real malice in his tone.
Jaehyun had long grown used to Jihoon's habit of tossing out sudden, seemingly random requests or tasks.
To outsiders, Jihoon's plans always looked messy, almost distorted—like puzzle pieces scattered in the wrong places.
Even the strategies behind JH's Corps growth had once felt confusing and overly complicated.
But time and time again, Jaehyun realized there was always a bigger picture waiting to be revealed.
It usually wasn't until years later, after Jihoon's moves had already played out, that the true intention became clear.
By then, Jaehyun would finally understand the logic behind every "sudden" request and see how each piece fit into Jihoon's grand design.
And although Jihoon's unpredictability often left Jaehyun annoyed, he couldn't help but admire the young man's brilliance.
For someone still so young, Jihoon had an uncanny ability to map out strategies with precision, like a seasoned chess master moving his pieces across the board.