"Here we go—it's starting!"
Jordan Peele and Michael Key leaned forward in their seats in the sixteenth row, eyes glued to the massive theater screen.
Both of them could hardly believe their luck.
Landing tickets to the hottest premiere of the month—'SAW'—felt like striking gold, especially with all the Hollywood chatter hinting that the film might be connected to the same cinematic universe as 'GET OUT'.
As fans of the genre and also to the HCU, they weren't going to miss this for the world.
The theater dimmed, and the opening credits crawled onto the screen.
The title card appeared, stark and unsettling:
'SAW'
It was a simple word, but Jihoon had always admired its layered meaning.
On the surface, it referred to the crude hand saw that would later appear in the film.
But in English, "saw" also meant "to see."
That double meaning wasn't accidental.
It was jihoon way of hinting at the film's true core, adding subtle factor to make sure that the film is not just a story of violence, but a test of human nature—forcing both characters and audience to see the value of life.
Most viewers only noticed the gore.
But Jihoon knew the brilliance lay in the metaphor.
"Saw" wasn't just about blood—it was about awakening.
About being forced to confront choices and the consequences of survival.
In his past life, Jihoon had always felt the original franchise leaned too heavily on torture spectacle, neglecting the deeper emotional terror and the creeping fear of hopelessness.
It was why, as soon as he realized the film hadn't yet been produced in 2004, he moved fast—registering the screenplay under his name, adapting it into the Horror Cinematic Universe (HCU), and rebalancing its tone.
He wanted to make the fear more psychological, the characters' desperation more human, so audiences weren't just squirming at gore but trembling at the thought of like, 'What would I do if I were in that room?'
Was he stealing?
Maybe.
But Jihoon didn't feel guilty about intercepting the franchise from its original path.
In his eyes, the series in his past life had been milked into a financial product—churned out year after year until the IP itself grew tired and hollow.
The box office made billions, yes, but the creative spark had died. In this timeline, Jihoon was determined to protect that spark.
Back on the screen, the movie wasted no time plunging into terror.
The film opened with two strangers regaining consciousness in a disgustingly filthy bathroom.
The tiles were cracked and yellowed, grime crawling in every corner.
Both men were shackled by iron chains, bolted to opposite walls.
Between them lay the corpse of an older man, sprawled in a pool of dried blood, a pistol still in his hand and a grisly gunshot wound to his head.
Dr. Lawrence Gordon stirred, confusion clouding his face as he tugged against his chain.
Across from him, Adam Faulkner let out a ragged groan, disoriented and afraid.
Neither knew why they were there.
Neither knew what was coming.
And in the audience, Jordan and Key exchanged a glance, their anticipation mounting.
This wasn't just another horror movie they usually watch before, just from the camera angle and the room vibe.
They know this was something darker, something that demanded more than screams.
The camera lingered on the grimy bathroom, and the audience collectively held their breath.
A corpse lay sprawled in the center of the room, one hand clutching a battered .38 revolver, the other gripping a cassette player. The sight alone sent a shiver through the theater.
James Wan, sitting a few rows behind Jihoon, leaned forward, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"What a brilliant setup," he thought to himself, heart pounding as he studied every frame.
If Jihoon had turned around, he would have recognized him instantly—not just a random fan, but the future creator of 'The Conjuring' and the 'Saw' franchise itself.
But in this version of events, James wasn't yet a famous director.
Back in school, he had poured his passion into modern horror, crafting short films that already carried his unique stamp.
They were small projects, but impressive enough to draw whispers of potential.
Still, potential alone didn't pay the bills.
By now, James should have been on track to launch 'SAW' with his own team in a couple of years.
But fate had shifted.
Instead of breaking out, he was stuck doing odd jobs on film sets—lugging equipment, fetching coffee—and working late-night shifts at a cafe just to scrape by.
Hollywood was merciless; no studio was ready to hand the reins of a feature to an unproven young director.
And then, a few weeks ago, he watched 'GET OUT'.
That film shook him to the core.
A psychological thriller with razor-sharp tension—it was the kind of story he longed to tell.
Seeing that level of control over fear and suspense on screen reignited his dream.
Tonight, he had spent a hard-earned $100 on a scalper ticket, determined to witness this so-called HCU unfold with his own eyes.
The film was only minutes in, and already he felt it: this director—this Korean guy Jihoon—was a kindred spirit.
Maybe even the trailblazer James had always aspired to become.
On screen, the story shifted.
Two men, strangers until this moment, stirred awake on opposite sides of the room.
Heavy iron chains tethered their ankles to the walls.
"Where the hell are we?" one of them rasped, voice filled with panic.
The audience learned their names quickly.
Adam—the photographer.
Gordon—the doctor.
As they took in the corpse, the gun, the tape recorder, dread filled the theater.
Adam pressed play, and the distorted voice of the kidnapper echoed through the speakers:
"Dr. Gordon, in six hours you must kill Adam. If you fail, you will both die… and your wife and daughter will die as well."
The rules were horrifyingly simple.
Clues lay scattered: photographs, hints scratched into walls, and most notably—two hacksaws.
But they weren't designed to cut through the thick steel chains.
No, the implication was far more sinister.
If they wanted to escape, they would have to cut through their own flesh.
The audience gasped, some shrinking back in their seats.
James, however, felt a surge of admiration.
This wasn't just horror for shock value—this was horror with rules, horror with meaning.
It was psychological, visceral, and deeply human.
"Director Jihoon is incredible", James thought, his palms sweaty as he clutched the armrest. His heart raced, almost trembling with excitement. "He's elevating the genre right before my eyes. This is exactly the kind of film I dream of making."
On screen, the tension reached a fever pitch.
Dr. Lawrence Gordon, desperate and pale with sweat, pieced together the puzzle.
From the photos scattered around, he recognized Zep Hindle also know by the name of Jigsaw, a hospital orderly, and identified him as the man holding his family hostage.
A phone call confirmed his worst fear—his wife and daughter were at Zep's mercy, bound and threatened.
The weight of that realization crushed Gordon.
There was no escape left, no negotiation with the rules of Jigsaw's twisted game.
Driven by panic and love for his family, Gordon made a decision that felt more insane than anything else he had ever done in his life.
The entire theater seemed to hold its breath.
When Gordon wrapped a towel around his leg, picked up the rusty handsaw, and pressed it to his ankle, gasps erupted from the audience.
The harsh, grinding sound of metal tearing into flesh echoed through the speakers.
The muffled thud of bone snapping beneath the strain sent shivers through every seat in the theater.
Amanda, sitting a few rows behind James, flinched violently.
She quickly threw her hands over Mara's eyes, shielding her daughter from the horrifying sight.
"What kind of movie is this?! Is your boss some kind of psychopath?" Amandamuttered under her breath, torn between disgust and disbelief.
Mara peeked from between her mother's fingers, her voice a shaky whisper. "Mom… you should've covered my ears too."
Her small frame trembled at the sheer brutality of the moment.
Amanda had only come tonight to support her daughter's job—Mara's new role as the personal assistant to Hollywood's most talked-about young director, Jihoon.
In truth, when Mara first announced her decision to join Jihoon's company, Amanda's instinct was to forbid it outright.
But then she reconsidered.
Mara had grown up sheltered, always under her wing, and letting her work under someone like Jihoon might finally force her to stand on her own.
What Jihoon didn't realize, however, was that Mara wasn't as ordinary as she appeared.
Her resume had been carefully altered to hide the truth.
To Jihoon, she looked like just another twenty-something trying to break into adulthood with no background or privileges.
But the signs were there for anyone observant enough: her naive slips, her flustered reactions when money came pouring in, and above all—her name.
Mara Murdoch.
If Jihoon had connected the dots earlier, he might have realized that his scatterbrained assistant came from one of the most influential families in the media world.
But for now, all of that was drowned out by the sound of Gordon's desperate screams on screen, as the story of 'SAW' dragged every soul in the theater deeper into its merciless game.