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Back at the Mountain Retreat cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, Asher Reed was still vibrating with a frequency that could shatter glass.
"Eighty million dollars," the show's director, Director Lee, said with a calm, almost predatory smile. "That's the liquidated damages for quitting mid-season, Asher. Are you sure you want to go back to being a broke student at UCLA?"
Asher slumped back into his chair, the fight leaving his body. Eighty million. He could barely afford a premium Spotify account before Leo Vance recruited him. He looked at the cameras, then at the director, then at his own slightly-too-comfortable stomach.
"Fine," Asher whispered, his voice full of the despair of a man who knew his 'Social Death' was being broadcast in 4K. "But if I get roasted on Twitter, I'm holding Gordon Ramsey hostage."
Upper East Side, Manhattan.
The Vance Family Estate.
Lauren Vance had just returned from a grueling business trip to the London office. She pushed through the heavy oak doors of her family's townhouse, the scent of expensive sandalwood and home-cooked dinner greeting her.
"Mom! Dad! I'm home!"
"You're just in time," her mother, Catherine Vance, called out from the dining room. "Your favorite braised ribs and garlic mashed potatoes are on the table. Wash up!"
Lauren walked into the living room first, where her father, Arthur Vance, sat on a velvet armchair. He was wearing his reading glasses, staring intently at his iPhone with a pair of high-end noise-canceling headphones on.
"Dad? What are you watching?" Lauren asked, leaning over the back of the chair.
Arthur jumped slightly, nearly dropping the phone. He quickly tapped the screen to lock it and pulled his headphones down around his neck. "Oh, Lauren. You're back. I didn't hear the car."
Lauren suppressed a smirk. She had caught a glimpse of the screen before it went dark, the iconic silver hair of Gojo Satoru was unmistakable. Her father, the man who had supposedly "disowned" Leo for his "Hellraiser" antics, was secretly binge-watching his son's show.
"Your father has been glued to that screen every night for a week," Catherine said as she walked in, wiping her hands on an apron. She showed no mercy in revealing the truth. "Ever since you told him that Leo directed it and it broke records, he hasn't missed an update."
Arthur coughed into his hand, his expression turning stubborn. "I'm merely conducting market research. I need to know if that brat is going to embarrass the Vance name again with some low-budget trash. I have to stay informed, don't I?"
Catherine smiled warmly. "I told you, Arthur. Our Leo was always going to make a name for himself. He's a Vance, after all. He just needed to find his own rhythm."
Arthur snorted, though his eyes softened. "What about those 'Neon Dreams' disasters? Why don't you mention those? He almost bankrupted our goodwill in Hollywood."
Lauren watched them bicker with a sense of heartwarming nostalgia. Her father was the classic "tough love" patriarch. He wouldn't admit it, but he was incredibly proud. She knew he was aware of her secret financial injections into Leo's early projects, and his silence was as close as he got to a blessing.
"Actually, Mom, Dad... there's something we need to discuss," Lauren said, her tone shifting to business.
She sat down, her expression becoming serious. "In the first half of this year, Vance Global's overseas streaming division reported its first major loss. Revenue is down 21%, nearly four billion dollars. The European and North American markets are sluggish, and the competition from Netflix is becoming suffocating. We're losing the cultural war."
Catherine sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I know. We've tried to export our domestic dramas, but the 'Cultural Gap' is just too wide. Audience find our period pieces too slow, and our modern dramas too soapy. We spent ten billion acquiring that third-party streaming platform, and now it's on the verge of collapse."
Arthur frowned, the atmosphere in the room turning heavy. The global expansion had been his and Catherine's dream for decades. If the current trend continued, Vance Global's overseas sector would have to shut down within three years.
Lauren looked at the reflection of the light on her father's phone. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration hit her like a lightning bolt. "Wait... Jujutsu Kaisen! Why didn't I think of it sooner?"
She immediately pulled out her phone and started dialing. Catherine, a titan of the industry herself, understood her daughter's thought process instantly.
"You want to use Leo's show to save the platform?" Arthur asked skeptically. "Can a supernatural high-school drama really compete with the likes of Stranger Things? What if it fails and drags the platform down faster?"
"You always did have a knack for discouraging your children, Arthur," Catherine teased, before turning to Lauren. "Leo's show is premiering today, right? The new one? The Outcast? Let's watch it together. I want to see what my son's vision looks like when he's the one holding the camera."
Celestial Peak Headquarters.
Private Screening Room.
While the world prepared for the premiere, Leo Vance was enjoying a celebratory hotpot dinner with his core team. Riley Evans, Tia, Sydney, David P., and the rest of the "Celestial Peak" crew were gathered around a massive steaming pot, the air thick with the scent of spices and success.
"I love you walking alone in the dark alley..."
Leo's phone rang, a custom ringtone he'd set for his sister. He answered, stepping away from the boisterous table.
"Leo," Lauren said, her tone professional and crisp. "No small talk. I want the overseas rights to Jujutsu Kaisen."
"Sure," Leo said without hesitation. "Family price?"
"Better than that. I want to sign a Gambling Agreement with you. If you're as confident in your work as I think you are, this will make you richer than Dad."
Leo's interest piqued. "I'm listening."
"First: Vance Global buys the overseas licensing rights for $30 million per episode. That's an upfront $360 million for the first season."
"Second: The revenue split based on viewership. After costs, if the global views exceed 5 billion, we split the profits 50-50. At 10 billion, it's 60-40 in your favor. If you hit 20 billion, you get 80%."
Lauren paused, her voice dropping an octave. "And if you somehow reach 30 billion views... you get 90% of everything the show makes globally. Merchandise, ads, subscriptions—everything."
"Deal," Leo said, his mind already calculating the global reach. "But why the sudden rush, Lauren? You sound like you're preparing for war."
"I am," Lauren replied. "In two days, Netflix is dropping their biggest project of the year: Squid Game. The internal buzz is that it's a masterpiece. It's a battle for the third-quarter market, Leo. It's your 'Curses' against their 'Games'."
Leo froze for a second. Squid Game.
In his previous world, that show had been a seismic event. It had racked up over 25 billion views and turned its actors into global icons overnight. It was the ultimate "Death Game" drama.
He didn't expect that his first project would have to go head-to-head with such a "Divine Drama."
Though, in Leo's opinion, the themes of Squid Game, the debt-ridden protagonists, the playground games turned lethal were tropes that had been refined to perfection in the web novels of his old world for decades. The Western world saw it as "Innovative," but to someone from his background, it was just a high-budget execution of a classic "Battle Royale" concept.
"Lauren," Leo said, his eyes glinting with a sharp, competitive fire. "Don't worry about the squid. Tell the tech team to prepare the servers. We're about to show the world what real 'Outcasts' look like."
As he hung up, Leo looked back at his team. Riley was currently trying to save a piece of beef from Tia's chopsticks. They had no idea that their show was about to become the front line in a multi-billion-dollar global streaming war.
Leo smiled, picked up his own chopsticks, and dove back into the fray. The premiere was about to begin.