Sometimes in negotiations, when both sides reached an impasse, there were usually two paths forward.
One was to tear holes in the contract—looking for loopholes to squeeze out more profit.
The other was to compromise, to meet halfway, and keep the process smooth.
Jihoon chose the latter. He knew that if he tried to play rough, he might indeed carve out more benefits for himself in the short term.
But that would also risk leaving behind a stain of bad blood between him and Amanda's family.
And if that rift grew too wide, retaliation from the Murdoch family would be inevitable.
He didn't need to imagine what that would look like.
Just a hostile takeover could be launched with alarming ease. All it would take was for Amanda's side to quietly acquire the 40% stake held by Fox and Peli.
With that leverage, they could start reshuffling executive positions, plant their own people into the company, and create chaos in JH Pictures' daily operations.
And that alone for Jihoon, would be a nightmare.
He was just a filmmaker, not a corporate manager.
His strength was creativity, not boardroom politics.
Unless he brought Jaehyun over from Korea to steady the company, he had no way to counter such a move.
But sending Jaehyun to LA was nearly impossible—Korea still needed him, and if he left, the careful plans Jihoon had set in motion there would unravel into chaos overnight.
That was the first reason Jihoon leaned toward compromise.
The second reason was even more pressing: capital.
The 2008 financial crisis was looming.
Jihoon remembered clearly—it would begin with a domino fall in early September, and though it was only March now, the storm clouds were already gathering. He had time, but not much, to prepare.
To him, the crisis wasn't just a threat—it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
When the crash came, the market would be a fire sale.
Undervalued companies, shaken to their core, would be ripe for the taking.
Jihoon could already see the names flashing in his mind: Tesla, Snapchat, Riot Games, maybe even a slice of SpaceX.
He didn't need to own them outright; even a fraction of equity in those companies would translate to billions in the future.
And beyond that, there was another plan—one that involved a company in Hong Kong, one he knew would suffer greatly during the recession.
To seize it, he would need cash. A lot of it.
The signed agreement now sat on the table, its weight heavier than the stack of papers suggested.
Amanda's check for $350 million lay clipped neatly beside the loan documents—set at 10% annual interest with a one-year term—and the contract confirming the exchange of 8% of JH Pictures' shares for 5% of Netflix.
On paper, it meant a cross-ownership between the two companies: Jihoon had sold 8% of his personal stake in JH Pictures while JH acquired 5% of Netflix in return.
The deal looked balanced—a win-win arrangement—but beneath the numbers, Jihoon knew it was more than that. By structuring it this way, he had effectively limited Amanda's ability to interfere in the day-to-day management of JH Pictures.
It wasn't merely a compromise. It was strategy. Jihoon had turned a tense negotiation into fuel—fuel to prepare for the storm that was coming, and a feast on the chaos that would follow.
That day, both sides signed the investment agreements.
Amanda left JH Pictures with a faint smile, clutching her copy of the contract, excitement written across her face. For her, this was another step into the boardrooms of Hollywood.
Jihoon, meanwhile, sat in his office with the check in hand, whistling a light tune. Three hundred and fifty million. Not enough to buy a seat at the global table just yet, but more than enough to grab a plate at the buffet once the financial crisis hit.
And if the crash really dragged on for two years, as he remembered it would, he'd have more than enough time to gorge himself on opportunities.
"Boss, is my mom tricking you?" Mara suddenly asked. Her lips pursed, her tone carrying just a hint of displeasure.
Though she looked innocent, fresh from university, Mara wasn't blind.
She'd been studying Netflix's financial reports and could tell the numbers weren't as dazzling as Amanda had made them seem.
At first, Mara had been excited about her holding a piece of JH Pictures' profits, but the more she learned about Netflix's shaky model, the more suspicious she became.
Jihoon chuckled at her sharpness and shook his head. "Don't say things like that. She got what she wanted, and I got what I wanted."
"But…" Mara frowned, still puzzled. "Netflix isn't making any money right now."
"That's because Netflix is a long-term play," Jihoon explained calmly.
"The 5% we just acquired, added to my existing 50%, gives us a controlling interest down the line. Think about it—how else are we supposed to attract more investment?"
He leaned back, speaking slowly, as though lecturing a curious student. "The site itself doesn't require much money to run. The real expense is acquiring film and television content rights so users can stream legally on the platform in the future. That's where the bulk of the funds will go."
"Ah!" Mara's eyes widened. "But $350 million isn't enough, right? And… why bother buying streaming licenses when there are already so many websites with pirated videos?"
Jihoon sat up straight, his tone sharpening. "Exactly because of that. Mara, you need to learn some legal awareness. Piracy won't last."
Jihoon knew how it gonna turn out, websites like that are doomed to be shut down, just like Kim Dotcom's MegaUpload or Pirate Bay. This company can't build a lasting empire on illegal ground—especially not in the U.S., where the IRS and federal agencies are quick to sniff out anything shady.
He paused, then leaned forward with a small smile. "But if we buy streaming rights now, while no one in the industry realizes the potential, we'll own the market at a discount. Think about it—computers and the internet are in every household now. That means every home could become a theater. Do you see how massive that market is?"
Mara froze, her lips parted in awe. Slowly, she raised a hand to cover her mouth, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Jihoon.
No wonder he was the boss. He wasn't just playing chess on the board—he was setting up moves ten steps ahead.