"No wonder you're my boss! But I still deserve credit—I had the good sense to choose you as my boss in the first place!"
Mara beamed as she patted Jihoon's shoulder several times, looking smug as if his success were partly her own doing.
Jihoon rolled his eyes at her theatrics but didn't bother correcting her. Instead, he shifted the focus.
"Come on," he said, brushing off her hand. "Let's meet the reporters outside. This nomination will give Saw some extra fuel—and save us a fortune on promotion."
He wasn't exaggerating.
The impact of the Cannes Film Festival nomination was enormous.
Even though 'SAW' itself hadn't been nominated, the public quickly drew a connection: if 'BURIED'—a film written and directed by Jihoon—was recognized by Cannes, then surely 'SAW', also written by him, had to be of similar quality.
It mattered, too, that 'BURIED' was his true directorial debut.
'GET OUT' and 'SAW' had been directed by Peli, with Jihoon contributing only as the screenwriter.
But 'BURIED' was his vision from start to finish—both written and directed by him—and now it carried the Cannes seal of approval.
Of course, what the public didn't know yet was that 'BURIED' was also part of the HCU.
Jihoon had no intention of revealing that connection prematurely. Timing was everything. If he actually won at Cannes, then—and only then—would the revelation cause the kind of shockwave he wanted.
So, when the reporters swarmed him outside the office, Jihoon didn't mention 'BUIRED' at all.
Instead, he masterfully redirected every question toward 'SAW'.
He spoke at length about its ties to 'GET OUT', how they shared the same cinematic worldview, and how efficiently production had been completed in just two and a half months.
Some reporters were clearly frustrated, eager for details about 'BURIED', but Jihoon's vivid recounting of 'SAW' behind-the-scenes stories softened their disappointment.
They left with quotes that would drive headlines and, most importantly, free publicity.
By the time Jihoon returned to his office, he had barely taken a sip of tea before a familiar figure from Fox walked in.
Jason, grinning from ear to ear, had witnessed Jihoon's impromptu "press conference" from the parking lot.
He had watched reporters throw question after question about 'BURIED', only for Jihoon to cleverly twist every answer back to 'SAW'.
When one reporter asked, "Lee, what is Buried about?"
Jihoon replied smoothly: "Buried is a thriller about a man trapped in a confined space—similar to the claustrophobic tension we've captured in Saw. Both are about delivering the ultimate thriller experience, so for those horror fans can stay tune for our new movie."
Another reporter pressed him: "This is your second Cannes nomination. Do you think you have a real shot at winning the grand prize this time?"
Jihoon smiled modestly. "Honestly, just being nominated is already an honor. It's like with Saw—you might think it doesn't have much to do with Buried, but with JH Pictures and Fox's touch, the thriller experience is going to be unforgettable."
The reporters were speechless at how effortlessly he spun the conversation back to 'SAW', but they couldn't deny it made for good copy.
Jason entered the office still laughing.
"Hahaha! Lee, I swear, you're a natural salesman. That was brilliant!"
Jihoon knew instantly that Fox must have already received confirmation of his Cannes shortlist.
He leaned back in his chair, smiling.
"It's just a nomination. Nothing more. But Fox wins this time as much as I do."
Jason nodded, still grinning.
"Exactly. The timing couldn't have been better. The Cannes announcement hit the news cycle right alongside Saw's premiere, and the hype is off the charts."
Then his expression shifted ever so slightly—business replacing laughter. He leaned forward and said in a careful tone,
"After our marketing department's latest research, we've noticed something interesting."
"Even casual passersby—the kind who don't normally follow film news—are showing interest in your debut."
"So… why don't you consider selling Fox the full film and television distribution rights to the HCU series?"
Jihoon nearly choked on his tea. He straightened so abruptly he almost strained his back.
"Hold on—what? Isn't that a bit sudden? Fox already has a stake in the HCU. Why do you still want to lock down the entire distribution?"
He was baffled.
Their partnership with Fox had been smooth so far, almost like a honeymoon phase.
Jim, Fox's current chairman, had backed Jihoon from the start and respected his authority.
The arrangement was simple: JH Pictures held 60% of the HCU's production and creative control, which gave Jihoon the final say on direction and storytelling.
Fox could invest and co-produce, but not dictate the vision.
Now Jason was sitting across from him with a request that reeked of greed.
The difference was stark: if Jihoon kept the distribution rights, JH could continue to profit long after a film left theaters—through television syndication, DVD sales, and future streaming deals.
But if Fox secured those rights exclusively, JH would become little more than a production house—making films but losing control of all downstream revenue.
Fox would quadruple their investment while JH's long-term returns vanished.
Jihoon frowned.
"Wait a second. Didn't I already give Fox the distribution rights? Why are you asking for film and television rights on top of that?"
Jason exhaled, sounding helpless.
"This wasn't my idea. It's coming straight from the board. Fox's market share hasn't grown in years, and lately we've been squeezed hard by Universal and Disney."
At that, Jihoon finally understood.
Fox was indeed one of Hollywood's titans, with a solid reputation in production, distribution, and marketing. But even titans weren't invincible.
The competition at the top was fierce, and Disney's aggressive expansion in particular was squeezing everyone.
Still, Jihoon knew the cost of saying yes. If he agreed, JH Pictures in Los Angeles would essentially become a subcontractor—handing over its most valuable long-term asset.
True JH might dangle a large payout now, but it would cripple the future of the company.
And Jihoon was certain of one thing: Jim would never support this.
Jim understood that the real asset wasn't the HCU brand itself—it was Jihoon.
If Jihoon felt betrayed, he could easily take his talents elsewhere, and Fox would lose far more than a set of distribution rights.
Jihoon's eyes narrowed.
"Does Jim know about this?"
At that, Jason froze. His cheerful smile faltered, and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Eh… well… not exactly. The board made the decision while Jim was away. He hasn't been… updated yet."
That confirmed everything for Jihoon.
This wasn't Jim's idea—it was the boardroom sharks, greedy pencil-pushers who only cared about short-term gains during their tenure.
They couldn't grasp what the HCU might grow into.
To them, it wasn't a legacy, a universe, or a cultural milestone—it was just another financial product to be broken down and sold off piece by piece, like vultures stripping a carcass.
And Jihoon could smell the politics behind it too.
This wasn't just about profit.
Power plays were always lurking in those polished wood-paneled boardrooms.
The Fox executives had their own interests to protect, their own egos to feed.
Watching Jim build something bigger than any of them could claim credit for must have stung.
Jealousy, envy, resentment—it all brewed quietly until it boiled over in the form of ridiculous "suggestions" dressed up as strategy.
Jihoon leaned back in his chair, calm but unyielding, the weight of the decision pressing on him. He took a long moment to collect his thoughts before speaking, his tone measured yet resolute.
"You know what.. Jim is the one who brought me to Hollywood," he began, his gaze steady.
"He's supported me from the very beginning. Out of respect for that, unless the board is truly desperate to make quick cash, I'd prefer you speak with Jim directly before we move forward."
He paused, his fingers drumming lightly on the table, as if testing the rhythm of his own conviction.
"If the board still insists on pushing this through, then fine—after Phase One of the HCU, I'll sell the whole HCU to Fox outright. But I'll retain the online streaming rights. That way, JH still has a foothold for the future."
His voice grew steadier, sharper.
"Ask Jim what he thinks. If he agrees, then we'll talk. But remember—the HCU is a long-term plan. If the board only sees short-term profit, they're going to miss the real value."
The room shifted. Where laughter had filled the air moments ago, now silence settled in like a heavy curtain. Jason's smile had vanished, replaced by a quiet frown, as he weighed Jihoon's words.
The tension was palpable. Everyone in the room could sense it—Jihoon's stance wasn't just another business opinion. His words might very well decide the future of the HCU itself.