Chapter 141
NetPlay is undeniably a global OTT platform.
But why is it?
It's already been two years since it officially entered the Korean market.
Despite pouring money into its efforts, NetPlay's market penetration was becoming increasingly sluggish.
This was evident in the realm of exclusive content, regardless of market share.
“Another empty day today.”
“My legs hurt.”
Two salespeople sighed in exhaustion.
Why was this happening?
“This market sure is tough.”
“Yeah, everywhere we go, we just get rejected.”
The constant rejections they faced were the main issue.
What exactly were they being rejected for?
There was no need to even ask.
It was for content contracts.
“They might consider secondary or tertiary distribution channels, but they won’t even entertain being the primary distributor.”
Korean film production studios were the problem.
[Providing exclusive content to an OTT platform is a bit…]
[Other directors would likely hesitate as well.]
[We understand that it does well overseas, but in the Korean market, movies still sell well in theaters.]
[If we enter the OTT space and get branded negatively, the majors won’t accept us. The risks are too high.]
The structure of the Korean market posed a significant challenge.
It was fundamentally interconnected, like a spiderweb.
The major distribution companies and studios were too closely tied together.
Venturing into OTT would risk being branded as traitors in the industry, making it difficult to return to traditional theaters.
“They said if we tried to partner with them, the theater chains would openly retaliate.”
“Yeah, the pressure is intense.”
The opposition from the existing major players was more aggressive than NetPlay had anticipated.
And then there was another big issue.
“To make matters worse, the people we managed to recruit all flopped.”
The poor precedent set was substantial.
“Who would’ve thought? We brought in so-called big names, only for them to bomb.”
NetPlay had succeeded in bringing in three of Korea’s top directors.
But there were complications.
NetPlay’s standard practice involved high upfront payments under an exclusive contract. Given the directors' reputations, they had to be offered hefty sums.
And the result?
“Why is it that once they’re paid, they stop making their usual films and instead churn out works that completely ignore audience tastes?”
They had turned into extreme hipsters.
They treated the OTT space not as a proper film market but as a testing ground.
While it’s true that OTT platforms often host experimental works, this had gone too far.
‘If they had succeeded and gained traction, penetrating the Korean market would have been a bit easier.’
But reality was different.
When the leading figures stumbled and fell, what could the latecomers possibly learn from it?
[Ah! NetPlay just isn’t it!]
They would only disregard the market further.
[For Koreans, there’s the Korean-style film market!]
[NetPlay can always enter as a secondary distributor, can’t it?]
And so, the current situation unfolded.
“Ugh, it would be great if someone with real clout came along with a brilliant project.”
At the senior employee’s grumble, the junior employee chuckled and replied.
“Haha, like that’s going to happen. It might be better to target smaller companies one by one instead.”
“Abandon the established directors?”
“Didn’t courting those so-called established directors end poorly? Maybe nurturing capable smaller studios would be a better approach. The theaters might oppose less.”
“…Is that the way to go?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”
It was a rational judgment.
In fact, a few years later, NetPlay would succeed in targeting the market by nurturing mid-sized studios.
By then, the large film companies that had avoided NetPlay would be scrambling to join the platform instead.
It was only a matter of time.
But.
For now, they couldn’t foresee that future.
Thus, they remained unaware.
They could only mutter regretfully with distant hopes.
“Still, if someone like Lee Min Ki joined us, things might open up.”
Yes.
Just one person like Lee Min Ki could change things.
Once they had enough buzz, marketing could handle the rest.
‘Isn’t there a move we could make for someone like Lee Min Ki?’
Rather than relying on the name value of their headquarters.
“By the way, I heard Lee Min Ki got blacklisted in Hollywood?”
“Why? Wasn’t he doing well over there?”
“He turned down the Odin Universe. Apparently, it really hurt their pride. Word has it that they’ve warned their partners never to work with him.”
“Ha, seems like they’re petty in the theater industry too.”
“This would be the perfect chance for us to bring him on.”
“Does that even make sense? What could Lee Min Ki possibly need from us?”
As the two remained fixated on finding a breakthrough, the phone suddenly rang.
Ring, ring—
The loud ringtone caused the senior employee to grimace as he checked the screen.
“Ugh, it’s the old-fashioned team leader.”
“Again? What’s that balding guy calling for this time?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He probably wants us to go somewhere and beg for a project.”
“Ugh, easy for him to say. He just sits and orders us around.”
Even as they grumbled, the senior employee answered the call—it was from higher-ups, after all.
“Yes?”
Midway through venting, the senior employee’s expression turned blank as he muttered.
“A movie produced by Lee Min Ki? Are you saying it’s going to be distributed on NetPlay?”
It was strange news.
Just moments ago, he had been wishing for Lee Min Ki to join NetPlay.
But to think it would actually happen.
A fantasy remains a fantasy because it’s unattainable.
‘Did I hear that wrong?’
What could NetPlay have possibly proposed to bring Lee Min Ki on board?
He might have understood if it were for a Hollywood production.
Still unable to believe it, he pinched his cheek to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“What? You’re saying Lee Min Ki made the proposal himself? With a self-produced project?”
It became clear.
This was a dream.
At JC headquarters.
A man sat in the company cafeteria, humming cheerfully as he piled meat onto his plate.
‘This place is great because JC has so much protein.’
It was Lee Min Ki.
As always, JC’s cafeteria was buffet-style, and it was considered one of the best-equipped in the industry.
Was it because the better actors managed their diets, the more it directly connected to the company's income?
From boiled chicken breast to fresh salads, ricotta cheese, and protein supplements, the menu catered to everything fitness enthusiasts might like.
‘I don’t get why people don’t eat this.’
Despite seeing it untouched every time, it was still puzzling.
‘Does Actor Lee Min Ki find it tasty?’
To others, Lee Min Ki, who eagerly picked such food, seemed almost eccentric.
Clatter.
In any case, it happened when Lee Min Ki scooped a generous portion and sat down.
Screech.
Suddenly, someone occupied the seat across from him.
“Trainer?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
It was Trainer Kim Ah Sung.
Since leaving for the U.S., he had been hard to meet, but now he appeared like the wind, sitting before Lee Min Ki.
At the sight of his signature casual hoodie, a bright smile spread across Lee Min Ki's face.
“How long has it been? It’s been hard to see you even after coming back to Korea. I heard you just returned from a business trip?”
“Well, you know me. I get called all over.”
“Where did you go?”
“I was invited to do a variety show in Japan.”
“Oh, that one.”
“Don’t even get me started. Can you believe they introduced me as the teacher who trained Lee Min Ki? It should be Lee Min Ki being called my student.”
“…….”
Still the same, full of confidence as always.
It might be refreshing if he changed a little.
But today, there was something slightly different about Trainer Kim Ah Sung’s demeanor.
It felt as though he had come with something to say.
“Is something going on?”
Lee Min Ki was the first to open his mouth.
“There is.”
Kim Ah Sung nodded and then turned slightly to scan the surroundings, as if to ensure no one was eavesdropping.
It wasn’t the kind of topic that couldn’t be spoken anywhere.
Why the caution?
Lee Min Ki was briefly puzzled as Kim Ah Sung lowered his voice and began speaking.
“Min Ki, I heard you’re working on a new movie lately.”
“Yes, you heard right.”
Lee Min Ki answered readily, showing no hesitation.
“I signed an exclusive project for Netflix. It’s still in the proposal stage.”
“……Seriously?”
At those words, Kim Ah Sung frowned deeply, as if chewing on sour candy.
“I thought something odd was going around.”
“Something odd?”
“Yeah, word has reached even my ears.”
Trainer Kim Ah Sung shook his head and let out a small sigh.
A few seconds later.
When Kim Ah Sung finally spoke again, it was with a calm expression.
“Min Ki, there’s talk in the U.S. not to hire you.”
“What?”
Lee Min Ki’s eyes widened.
“They’re saying not to hire me?”
“Lower your voice. If someone hears, there’ll be misunderstandings. Lots of loose-lipped people around.”
Ah.
So that’s why he was scanning the area earlier.
But if it was such a secret, wouldn’t it have been better to talk in a more private setting?
Regardless of what Lee Min Ki thought, Trainer Kim Ah Sung continued speaking calmly.
“Unlike Korea, where most movie companies rely on local funding, Japan has a lot of U.S. capital involved.”
“Ah, so you must’ve heard about it from there.”
“It’s just a rumor for now. That’s why the higher-ups told me not to bring it up to you.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“You know I don’t listen to what others say.”
“Right.”
“Anyway, the word is that Emma Spector threw a fit, demanding not to hire you.”
“…Emma Spector, huh.”
The name made Lee Min Ki trail off as something clicked in his mind.
‘She’s famous for her incredible pride.’
She was one of the most high-nosed directors in Hollywood.
But when he met her in person, she seemed surprisingly decent.
Despite her high position, she had been remarkably cheerful.
‘Could it be because I turned down the role?’
This was absurd.
He had refused because of the terms.
No matter how prestigious Odin Universe was, he wasn’t about to let AST drag him through four films on their terms.
If the contract didn’t fit, it was over. What right did she have to block his path?
‘Is she a child or something?’
While Lee Min Ki was dumbfounded, Trainer Kim Ah Sung continued.
“Hollywood is heavily network-based. No matter how big the market is, AST wields a lot of influence. If you get blacklisted by them, it’s not just a career hiccup—it’s game over in Hollywood.”
“Would they really go that far?”
“Probably not. But it’s true that your chances in Hollywood have gotten tougher. No one wants to take unnecessary risks.”
It wasn’t wrong.
AST’s influence might not result in outright expulsion from theaters, but it would undoubtedly erect significant obstacles.
The first button had been fastened incorrectly.
He had thought Hollywood was a land of opportunities, but now, he tasted its bitterness.
‘This is tricky.’
Emma Spector’s wrath was intimidating.
Yet, for some reason, Lee Min Ki didn’t feel entirely discouraged.
‘In the end, all I have to do is rise above it.’
It was a matter of recognition.
Plenty of people thrived in the industry even after souring relationships with big companies.
Yes, he just needed to rise.
Moreover, Lee Min Ki had the blueprint in his mind.
If he could deliver results strong enough to disregard AST, other companies would naturally back him.
He had confidence.
Even if he didn’t, he had to find it.
If he stood weak and defeated, no one would stand up for him.
“Trainer, don’t worry.”
Thus, he could speak boldly.
“Soon, Hollywood will cling to me, begging for just one project.”
Let’s make it big.
As soon as he said that, Trainer Kim Ah Sung stared blankly for a moment.
“…Well, I’ll be damned.”
He let out a small laugh and said.
“When did you get so confident?”
He had changed a lot.
In the past, he would’ve cowered at a single threat.
Now, even faced with a Hollywood giant’s intimidation, he didn’t falter.
It was as if the person had changed from the roots up.
Reeds.
The reed, whose sprouts had been unusually green, had now grown into a baobab tree.
“You taught me that. You said I lacked confidence in acting before.”
“Are you mixing in casual speech?”
“It’s an expression of affection.”
The person responsible, Lee Min Ki, chuckled as he spoke.
“It won’t take long. Until I become that kind of star.”
He was strong.
His determination to treat the world’s harsh winds and waves as mere nourishment was evident.
It had become comical.
The one who should be most frightened was brimming with such strength, so how could anyone else provoke fear?
“Yeah, that’s how people should be.”
Finally, Trainer Kim Ah Sung also let out a small laugh and said.
“Hollywood, let’s show them what a Korean Hot Kimchi Man can do.”
“Yes, to the point where they’ll be left speechless.”
Lee Min Ki chuckled, then picked up a piece of chicken breast with his fork and asked.
“Do you want a piece?”
“No.”
In the office where the dust had gently settled.
A man let out a deep sigh, as if his very soul had left his body, and said.
“…I never thought the proposal would actually go through.”
It was Sim Seong Bo.
With a voice so fragile it seemed like it could break at the slightest touch, Lee Min Ki chuckled and said.
“I told you. Netflix would be paying attention.”