Chapter 139
As mentioned earlier, starting from the mid-2010s, there were a few notable changes in global media.
First, works other than blockbuster films centered around universes began moving en masse from theaters to OTT platforms.
[Theaters just aren’t profitable anymore.]
[There are too many formidable franchise works… We have no way to compete from our position.]
[It’s inevitable that small businesses are pushed out by large corporations, but couldn’t they at least give us a chance for coexistence?]
[Only well-established famous directors can endure.]
Amid this rapid market shift, countless film creators, from small production companies to directors and actors, voiced their dissatisfaction.
The idea that the theaters they loved so much were turning into theme parks.
It must have been an unsettling thought for them.
However.
There was one thing they were overlooking.
[OTT platforms are surprisingly profitable, aren’t they?]
That OTT was an incredible titanium lifeline.
[Once you crack an OTT platform, you can sell it worldwide.]
[You don’t have to go through the hassle of trying to expand into foreign markets for theatrical releases.]
[And they’re willing to generously fund the production?]
This was essentially the business model of OTT platforms.
High volume at low margins.
Their goal was widespread distribution, and as long as the content was entertaining, even small studios could compete fairly with major ones.
In the OTT realm, the pure entertainment value of a work could trump marketing.
And.
The second change brought about by OTT's dominance over the world.
That was none other than.
“I think Korean works are going to dominate the global visual content market soon.”
The Korean Wave, which swept the world.
At Lee Min Ki's confident words, Manager Park Han Mo gave him a puzzled look before speaking.
“…I know you’re fond of domestic movies and dramas, but isn’t that a bit far-fetched?”
“I don’t know? I think it’ll take less than five years.”
At his doubtful gaze, Lee Min Ki retorted in defense.
“Korean directors these days make amazing works. Sure, things like CGI might be limited due to budget constraints, but the direction and scripts are absolutely top-notch.”
“Actor, isn’t this a matter of market dynamics? It’s extremely difficult for a Korean film to succeed in the American theater scene. Even a film that draws ten million viewers here would, at best, be a bonus stage over there.”
“What about selling it through OTT?”
“Korea isn’t the only country making films. There’s an overwhelming amount of content.”
It was a rebuttal that seemed to state water is water and salt is salt.
It wasn’t that Manager Park Han Mo disliked Korean films.
In fact, he was someone with deep affection for the Korean market, enough to leave the U.S. and return.
But how should one put it?
At the time, this perspective was the norm.
‘Who would believe that, in just a few years, Korean works would dominate the top rankings of most OTT platforms?’
Knowing the future, Lee Min Ki was all too aware that this common sense would be shattered.
‘Even on Netplay alone, there were times when nearly half of the top ten rankings were filled with Korean works.’
He remembered it vividly.
The scenario where Korean films didn’t just capture the U.S. market but caused such a frenzy that major U.S. film studios and OTT companies begged Korean studios to create works for them.
He remembered how they were willing to pour as much money as necessary, as long as they could secure the works.
‘Who would believe me if I said all this?’
Lee Min Ki chuckled softly.
He knew because he had seen the future; if he hadn’t, he would have been frustrated and upset, thinking, ‘Why are you mocking me when I’m already struggling to make it?’
But now, he knew.
Which was why he felt frustrated.
“Manager, if a Korean work hits it big, do you think foreign countries might end up popularizing something like jegichagi?”
It was at this moment when Lee Min Ki spoke in a serious tone.
“…Actor, are you feeling unwell?”
This was exasperating.
It seemed like he was utterly unwilling to believe it.
Half giving up on convincing him, Lee Min Ki said.
“Anyway, I really want to take part in this work. It looks fun.”
“Why, of all projects, this one?”
Manager Park Han Mo stared at the laptop screen in disbelief.
On the screen, the words were displayed.
[war of all against all]
[A War of All Against All]
Also known as "ManManTu."
The story revolved around people stranded on an island, fighting, looting, and sometimes cooperating to survive.
“It’s just too cool.”
Manager Park Han Mo continued in a voice tinged with disbelief.
“It would be a miracle if this doesn’t end up as a B-grade flop, and the director is a complete rookie, no less.”
He was entirely correct.
The director was a rookie, and the project was greenlit as a nepotistic move for the child of a famous director.
On top of that, it was being managed by co-directors.
“The fact that they’re considering OTT distribution also indicates they probably intend to slap it together and pocket the production costs.”
This statement was also credible.
OTT platforms often operated on a buyout model, where creators sold the rights to their works outright. As a result, many directors ensured minimal quality and stopped caring.
Maybe only a top-tier platform like Netplay was an exception.
“They probably didn’t seriously expect to recruit you, either.”
That, too, was a fact.
They had reached out with a mindset of “It would be nice if it worked out, but no big deal if it doesn’t.”
Looking at the synopsis alone, it was clear this was a one-shot gamble.
No reasonable actor would willingly insert themselves into this scene.
Yeah.
‘Who would believe this will end up ranked number one on Netplay?’
If you didn’t know the outcome.
‘This single project could rival the Odin Universe.’
It was one of the best works of the year, taking the world by storm.
Even among top-tier projects in the Odin Universe, only the best could compare.
At least something like "Anonymous," an average project, wouldn’t even come close.
Having made up his mind, Lee Min Ki grinned brightly and said.
“I want to shoot this.”
“Actor, even after all I’ve said—”
“Oh, by the way, Manager, it seems our contract renewal is coming up soon—”
“I’ll convince the Director.”
Manager Park Han Mo.
Your judgment is as quick as ever.
By the time Lee Min Ki returned to Korea's airport.
He had already become.
“Please wave at us here!”
A pseudo-Hollywood star.
“What’s the secret to your quiz show victory?”
“Where did you learn those emergency response skills?”
“We heard you’ve been offered a role in the Odin Universe! Is that true? Can you share a word about it?”
“It’s said Emma Spector praised you highly. What exactly did she say?”
It had only been about two weeks.
Yet, within that time, Lee Min Ki had seemingly built the image of a pseudo-Hollywood star online.
Although it was limited to Korea.
“Don’t say anything. Just leave it be.”
“Yes.”
Following Park Han Mo's advice, Lee Min Ki carefully exited the airport, guided by the staff sent by JC.
He could have said a word or two to the reporters, but the strategy this time was to remain silent.
[It’s most exciting when a gift box is unopened. Let them imagine. Don’t pour cold water on it.]
This was the advice from CEO Goo In Mo.
If speaking up could lead to a disadvantage, then the less he spoke, the better.
‘Anyway, it’ll take some time for AST to reveal that they declined the casting offer, so in the meantime, they must be aiming to ride the star premium.’
It was a solid strategy.
They could keep expanding the buzz like a snowball.
There’s a saying about creating a grand facade.
Usually, it means flaunting non-existent skills to appear impressive, but this time, it was the opposite.
If people naturally misunderstood him as impressive, then it was better to hide even the genuine flair.
At least within Korea.
Because the fantasy surrounding Lee Min Ki as an actor had already reached its peak.
[The best among rookie actors]
[A phenomenal career]
[A monstrous actor]
[An actor even Hollywood craves]
[Acknowledged for his fashion sense even by LE]
[A man who might rewrite the legend of the Korean film industry]
[JC’s hidden secret weapon]
[The Midas touch of the commercial world]
He was already enjoying the benefits of carefully curated acclaim.
Any negative image from the Kim Do Ha incident had long been washed away after what happened on the plane.
Now, mentioning it would only make the person bringing it up look like they were stirring up trouble, so what was the point?
‘The situation couldn’t be better.’
All this career buildup would explode into the next achievement.
As Lee Min Ki thought about this and got into the car, his manager, Park Han Mo, spoke.
“Shall we head out immediately?”
“Yes.”
Although he had returned to Korea, there was no time to rest.
There was something he wanted to finalize as quickly as possible.
‘I have to get there before they cast someone else.’
This was crucial.
The production team of [Manman Two] probably didn’t have high hopes for casting Lee Min Ki.
Since they had a tight production schedule, they would likely try to cast another actor immediately if they could.
He intended to settle things before that happened.
“That aside, that director over there is really lucky.”
Park Han Mo, who was driving, murmured as if he still couldn’t believe it.
Rather than refute him, Lee Min Ki simply thought:
‘They’ll find out with time anyway.’
He just enjoyed the moment.
Half a year later, he looked forward to shocking the world.
A small film studio located in Ilsan.
Maillard Pictures.
A man there was pacing in circles, mumbling incessantly.
“This is unbelievable.”
A woman seated in a chair frowned, seemingly annoyed by his restless behavior, and said:
“Stop being so nervous.”
“How can I not be nervous? It doesn’t make sense for me not to be. Of course, it doesn’t.”
There was no helping it.
If not today, when else would he be this tense?
And for good reason.
“Lee Min Ki is showing interest in our film!”
Right now, they were scheduled to meet Korea’s top young actor.
“If we manage to secure Lee Min Ki, it’s over. Investments, everything—done! A guaranteed box office hit! We might even create a phenomenon!”
“Stop spouting nonsense.”
Another woman laughed at his exaggerated reaction, as if mocking him.
“Hey, do you really think Lee Min Ki is genuinely interested in our film? He’s being courted by Hollywood.”
“You never know. He might be someone who only cares about the artistic value of a project.”
“Artistic value? How are we supposed to prove that our film has artistic value?”
“The synopsis?”
“Honestly, there are tons of people out there who can write a better synopsis than us.”
“Well, still, our last film was….”
“300,000 viewers?”
“Yeah, we reached 300,000 viewers! That’s decent for a mid-level studio.”
“Meanwhile, the companies courting Lee Min Ki are probably aiming for ten million viewers.”
“…Ugh!”
Faced with the woman’s continuous rebuttals, the man fell silent, sinking into gloom by himself.
‘She’s not wrong.’
It didn’t make sense for Lee Min Ki to show interest in their project.
There were countless superior studios in the world.
He didn’t know why the meeting was happening, but Lee Min Ki was probably just coming to check things out before leaving.
Of course, it was strange to suggest a meeting if there was no intention to sign a contract from the beginning.
However, they couldn’t think of any other explanation.
That’s how unrealistic it was for Lee Min Ki to join their project.
“Actors who are on the rise tend to seek safe successes. OTT platforms aren’t exactly the best option unless you’re a complete newcomer.”
Unless a dragon descended from the sky and razed Seoul to the ground, this wouldn’t happen.
“Sigh… How many people have already just come to scope things out and left?”
“Lee Min Ki will probably do the same. He’s way out of our league. Honestly, we’d be lucky if he doesn’t no-show.”
While the two of them sat together, holding no expectations, they were unaware of something.
The life that Lee Min Ki had lived.
These two were, in fact, the genius director couple who would shake the world.
Jin Joo Yeon and Shim Sung Bo.
“Hey, if you keep acting like this, I might want to break up.”
“Joo Yeon, please don’t say that… I’m hurt….”
“Then stop whining and acting so pitiful.”
For now, they were still just lovers.