The Westwood Village's Mann Bruin Theatre was buzzing that evening.
Unlike the glitzy premieres that they have before, there was no red carpet rolled out for 'SAW'.
But still, that didn't stop reporters from crowding the entrance, their camera flashes bouncing off the glass doors as fans and curious onlookers pressed closer.
Why all the commotion for a horror sequel?
Simple—this wasn't just another film anymore.
It was tied to the name of Jihoon, the Oscar-winning screenwriter who had also landed back-to-back nominations at Cannes and also the creator of HCU.
His reputation had grown in hollywood, and so had the intrigue around anything bearing his name.
Just a weeks ago, the HCU had been an obscure gamble in the horror genre.
Now, it was already rapidly carving out a loyal community of genre lovers who followed each installment with excitement.
That said, most reporters had their eyes set on 'BURIED', Jihoon's personal directorial effort, and the one competing at Cannes.
The problem was, very little had been revealed about that project—no official trailers, no leaks, nothing beyond rumors and speculation.
So for now, they did what any clever journalist would do: shift their coverage to 'SAW'.
After all, it was still part of Jihoon's horror universe.
If they couldn't write about the crown jewel, they'd circle the satellites around it.
Jihoon was scanning the crowd when he suddenly froze.
A familiar face appeared among the sea of people, walking toward him with effortless charisma.
"Huh? Why are you here?" Jihoon asked, genuinely caught off guard.
Leonardo DiCaprio flashed that practiced, boyish grin of his. "Your studio sent me an invitation, didn't you? How could I not show up? What, you're not happy to see me?"
Jihoon laughed, shaking his head. "Welcome, welcome! Honestly, I'm not welcoming anyone else tonight—but you're an exception."
The truth was, he hadn't expected Leo to come at all.
The invitation had been more of a shot in the dark, a polite formality rather than a real expectation. If Leo showed, great.
If not, Jihoon wouldn't have lost sleep over it.
Yet here he was, larger than life, and Jihoon couldn't deny the ripple of excitement it brought to the evening.
But Leo hadn't come on a whim. His presence carried intent.
After the Cannes lineup was announced, Leo had been paying close attention to 'BURIED'.
He knew it was a one-man film—a story carried almost entirely by a single actor's performance.
The fact that it had secured a Main Competition slot at Cannes meant one thing: Jihoon had pulled out a performance strong enough to stand toe-to-toe with some of the finest films in the world.
For an actor obsessed with legacy, that was no small signal.
Leo's long-time goal was clear, even bordering on obsession: he wanted the Best Actor award at an international prestige film festival.
To him, such recognition wasn't just another trophy—it was validation, the kind of immortality only cinema could give.
That was why he had always been picky with his projects, carefully choosing directors and scripts that might edge him closer to that dream.
And now, Jihoon represented exactly that kind of opportunity.
He knew Jihoon had told him before that 'THE DEPARTED' wouldn't give him the award he craved—it was too ensemble-driven, too focused on crime drama thrills to spotlight one actor.
But Jihoon had also promised him something more: that he would personally write and direct a film built entirely around Leo, a project that would strip away distractions and let him shine in the spotlight as the sole centerpiece.
That promise was enough.
So Leo wasn't here just to support the premiere of 'SAW'.
He was here to cement his relationship with Jihoon, to show his face, shake his hand, and quietly make it clear: he was all in.
The reporters nearby suddenly exploded into chaos, their cameras firing off in rapid succession like a torrential downpour of flashbulbs.
Why?
Because the Hollywood candy boy himself and international superstar Leonardo DiCaprio had just appeared together at the premiere of 'SAW'.
This was huge.
Nobody had expected this pairing.
When did these two even meet?
There had been zero news of Leo attending the ceremony, which meant both Jihoon and the media were completely blindsided.
The red carpet instantly became a war zone.
Reporters shoved and stumbled over one another, desperate to grab the scoop first.
One female reporter even lost a high heel in the scramble, nearly tripping as she thrust her recorder forward, somehow managing to land directly in front of Leo.
Leo paused. He looked at the chaotic scene, a bit speechless, before raising his hand in surrender.
"I'll answer one question," he said with a helpless smile. "But please—don't block the entrance."
The reporter froze for a second, stunned that she'd actually gotten him to stop.
Then her brain kicked into overdrive.
Two seconds later, she blurted out the question that was on everyone's mind:
"Leo, are you partnering with Director Lee again after Inception? Are you officially cast in the next HCU project?!"
The crowd held its breath.
Leo scratched his chin, giving one of those vague, practiced Hollywood smiles.
"All I can say is that we're still considering the possibilities. As for the HCU itself…" he shrugged casually, "I'm not entirely clear on the scope of the films. So I'm not sure whether my next project will be connected to it."
It was a perfect half-answer.
On paper, Leo had said nothing. But in reality, he had just thrown gasoline onto the fire.
The truth?
He knew exactly what he was doing.
'THE DEPARTED', the project Jihoon had in mind for him, had nothing to do with the HCU—it was a straight-up crime drama, not a thriller franchise entry.
But by keeping the ambiguity alive, Leo gave the media something to chew on.
And that ambiguity would spark speculation, hype, and endless chatter about whether he might appear in Jihoon's horror cinematic universe.
For Jihoon, that kind of publicity was priceless.
And Leo knew it.
By lending his name—even as a rumor—he was practically gifting Jihoon free global marketing.
In doing so, Leo also knew Jihoon would owe him one.
A quiet favor banked for later.
Of course, anyone seasoned in the film industry could see through the tactic.
Leo's price tag alone could swallow an entire HCU production budget.
The business model simply didn't fit.
The media understood that as well—but logic didn't matter.
The story was too good to spoil.
Headline of "Leo DiCaprio possibly joining HCU" was the kind of headline that sold papers, boosted clicks, and ignited fan speculation.
Instead of debunking it, they would rather amplify and capitalize it.
After fielding the one question, Leo let Jihoon usher him away from the mob into a quieter rest area.
They sank into a sofa, finally catching their breath.
Jihoon smirked, half-joking. "So… you were still just 'considering' it, huh? Now suddenly you've decided to star in my next movie?"
"Yes," Leo said with a grin, nodding firmly. "I've decided."
Jihoon blinked, leaning closer. "Are you serious? You're not just messing with me?"
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you always want me for The Departed?"
"Of course," Jihoon admitted. "But I didn't think you'd commit this quickly. Honestly, I was expecting your 'yes' only after Cannes."
Leo tilted his head, amused. "So you're that confident Ryan will win Best Actor at Cannes?"
Jihoon shook his head. "Not confident, just… strategic. I adjusted the whole film to elevate his performance, turned it almost into a one-man show."
"That gives him a better chance compared to the others nominated. But in the end, it's up to the jury—and luck."
"Actually…" Leo hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but even before you were shortlisted at Cannes, I had already planned to join your project once Revolutionary Road wrapped."
Jihoon smiled faintly. "I believe you."
In truth, whether Leo's explanation was sincere or not didn't matter much.
What mattered was the result: Leonardo DiCaprio was officially in.
And that was exactly what is needed.
For Jihoon, Leo wasn't just another actor—he was leverage.
The kind of leverage that could lift his ambitious Asian-style cinematic universe into the global spotlight.
With Leo's influence and fanbase spread across every corner of the world, he was the seasoning that could turn an experimental franchise into a must-watch cultural event.
It was simple marketing.
Imagine two posters: one featuring an unknown actor, the other with Leonardo DiCaprio front and center.
Which one would audiences choose?
Which one would guarantee ticket sales?
The answer was obvious.
That was why big productions poured millions into casting stars that carries same attributes like Leo—not out of vanity, but because a superstar's name could make or break the box office.
Jihoon knew this all too well.
His choice to bring Leo in was not about friendship or personal admiration—it was business.
A straightforward trade.
Leo would help elevate the new IP, lending it legitimacy and worldwide attention.
In return, Jihoon would give him exactly what he wanted: a sharp script, a film with award potential, and the kind of project that could further burnish Leo's reputation.
No complicated friendship, no deeper bond—just a clean exchange of value.
Each man meeting the other's needs.