Kevin gave a long, thoughtful pause, turning over Jihoon's words carefully in his mind.
After a while, he finally asked, "Lee, at the premiere you told Stan about the concept of a cinematic universe. Do you think if Marvel actually followed that same concept, it could really succeed?"
Jihoon nodded with quiet confidence. "Of course."
"Marvel's vast library of popular character copyrights is perfectly suited for this system. If you manage to take back all the IPs that were sold off over the years, everything would fit more naturally into a single cinematic universe."
He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before adding, "Especially the X-Men. If you could reclaim that IP, it alone would be enough to expand and elevate the entire storyline."
His tone carried both conviction and a hint of regret.
As a fan of the franchise, Jihoon wasn't just giving business advice—he was speaking from the heart.
He knew from experience that the momentum of Marvel's universe would eventually falter.
In his past life, Phase 4 had marked the decline of the MCU.
True, Disney did buy the X-Men IP back in 2019, but by then Marvel was already closing the "Endgame" chapter.
Introducing the mutants at that late stage felt forced, almost like stitching together two stories that had already been told separately.
Instead of creating a seamless expansion, it risked splintering into multiple timelines—something Marvel would later attempt with the Fantastic Four.
To Jihoon, Disney's acquisition of Marvel's full IP library had never been about the movies alone.
The real motive was clear: to turn beloved heroes into theme park attractions, plastering Wolverine and Professor X onto roller coasters and parade floats, rather than weaving them into the heart of cinematic storytelling.
Even before his second chance at life, Jihoon had sensed the MCU's momentum faltering.
He often pictured an alternate timeline—one where the X-Men had been part of the journey from the very beginning, shaping the arcs of Phases 1 through 4.
In that version, the storytelling would have been richer, the conflicts sharper, the universe far more cohesive than the fractured vision that audiences eventually received.
A trace of bitterness tugged at his expression as he shook his head.
By the time Wolverine finally showed up in the Deadpool films, the MCU had already peaked. Introducing an older Logan at that point felt hollow.
Fans had always cherished the younger, iconic version—the fierce hero still in his prime.
To bring him in so late, when both the characters and their actors had already lost that iconic spark, seemed to Jihoon nothing more than a squandered opportunity.
Stan Lee listened quietly, his usual warmth replaced by a pensive frown.
He could already picture the possibilities Jihoon described—the mutants crossing paths with the Avengers, shaping conflicts, deepening the themes.
For a moment, even he seemed swept up in the vision. But eventually, he exhaled a long sigh and shook his head.
"Lee," Stan said gently, "things are easier said than done."
"The X-Men IP belongs to Fox, and you've been working with them long enough to know their board members aren't exactly easy to deal with."
"Especially not after you've already proven the success of a cinematic universe."
"Ever since your speech about the idea, every studio holding an IP is clinging to it—waiting for the chance to cash in. Everyone wants their slice now."
There was a touch of regret in his voice, the kind that came from a man who could see the dream but knew the business chains that bound it.
Stan leaned back in his chair, unsure if he was joking or serious, his eyes twinkling with mischief before he suddenly asked, "Lee, do you want to take over the MCU production?"
The words landed like a thunderclap.
Both Jihoon and Kevin froze, staring at Stan in disbelief.
For a moment, neither of them spoke—the sheer weight of the suggestion left them dumbfounded.
Kevin was the first to recover.
He hesitated, carefully choosing his words, but still voiced his thoughts. "Stan, I understand where you're coming from," he said slowly, "but Lee's expertise lies in horror."
"That's a very different concept from superhero films. This might not be the best move for us." His tone was respectful—he didn't dismiss Jihoon's accomplishments, but deep down, he believed superhero films were his territory.
After all, he had already worked on X-Men and Spider-Man, two of Marvel's biggest hits.
Jihoon, by contrast, was known for low-budget horror successes. In Kevin's mind, the scale, tone, and expectations were worlds apart.
Jihoon glanced at Kevin, not offended in the slightest.
In fact, he almost agreed.
If it were entirely up to him, he would gladly let Kevin steer the MCU or even the HCU, after all, in Jihoon's previous life, Kevin had done an outstanding job.
But a small spark of confidence flickered in him as well.
He couldn't help but think that if he had been in charge, he might have taken the MCU down a slightly different path.
The first Avengers film, in his eyes, was untouchable. It had been a landmark achievement—a proof of concept that dazzled audiences and united disparate heroes under a single banner.
It was bold, thrilling, and above all, historic.
But the second installment, Age of Ultron, never sat right with him.
To him, Ultron's story didn't belong in the Avengers' second outing.
The narrative felt crammed, as if Marvel had rushed to introduce a villain of such scale without giving him the breathing room he deserved.
Jihoon thought it would have made far more sense to anchor Ultron's rise within the Iron Man franchise.
As for the Iron Man 2, as Jihoon remembered, had been weighed down by mediocrity.
Whiplash was a paper-thin villain, little more than a plot device with electric whips, and half the runtime felt like filler designed to stretch out the spectacle.
It was a missed opportunity.
If Ultron had been introduced there—born out of Tony's hubris and reckless genius—the story would have gained real emotional heft.
It would have tied directly into Tony's fears, his drive to protect the world, and the consequences of his unchecked ambition. The stakes would have been sharper, the drama more compelling.
In Jihoon's version, the dominoes would have fallen differently.
Avengers 2 wouldn't have been bogged down by Ultron's sudden arrival.
Instead, it could have leapt straight into the Infinity War arc, pulling Thanos out of the shadows earlier and connecting more naturally to the Chitauri invasion of the first film.
The pacing would have tightened, the narrative stakes escalating with each step until finally reaching Endgame—a finale Jihoon considered so close to perfection it needed no alteration at all.
To him, it was a vision of what could have been: a cleaner, sharper, and more emotionally cohesive saga.
Yet Jihoon also understood the truth. No matter how convincing his reimagined roadmap sounded in his own head, the MCU was never his to command.
Those choices belonged to others, and all he could do was sit back, observe, and quietly indulge in the endless "what ifs."
With a faint smile, Jihoon shook his head and finally broke the silence. "Kevin is right, Stan."
"Nobody understands superheroes better than him. He has the experience—and the track record—that I don't."
"And besides, with my ties to Fox, I doubt Marvel would even let me near the MCU without dragging Fox into the deal."
He raised his hands in a small, dismissive gesture, signaling the end of the discussion.
Stan sighed deeply, leaning forward with a tinge of regret in his voice. "Sigh… if only we had met earlier. What a shame."