Chapter 144: The Premiere
The word "premiere," both familiar and distant, made Lee Min Ki flinch as he asked,
"Already?"
"Yes, an internal premiere. It’s a first-cut preview shown only among the stakeholders. Though, realistically, it’ll just be people sent by Netplay."
It was part of Netplay’s production system.
Instead of a public premiere, the film was screened for evaluation by Netplay’s staff.
‘They said it’s a minimal safeguard to prevent situations where creators just laze around after getting the production budget.’
The funding was divided into two parts, and if the interim screening didn’t go well, the follow-up investment would shrink.
Conversely, if the interim result showed promise, the funding could be significantly increased.
It was unavoidable.
But Lee Min Ki didn’t want to face it.
‘Do I really have to show this to others?’
No, of course, he had to.
But he didn’t like the idea at all.
Clearing his throat, Lee Min Ki asked,
"Wouldn’t it be better to take it slower?"
"The actor did so well that we finished quickly."
"Still, we have some time left, so why not polish it a bit more?"
"Unfortunately, there’s no way to bring retired roles back."
"Well, there are parts that could use some retakes performance-wise."
"Definitely not. Your performance was flawless, beyond perfect."
"......"
The more questions he asked, the more Director Shim Sung Bo’s voice brimmed with certainty.
"Wouldn’t it be better to stick to the script?"
"My philosophy is that the best scenes come when you ignore a meticulously written script."
He’s grown a lot in confidence.
Lee Min Ki found himself missing the old, timid Director Shim Sung Bo.
While he wallowed in silent tears, Director Jin Joo Yeon suddenly leaned in and said,
"You must come tomorrow, Actor. You’re the co-producer, after all."
Why was it, though?
The title "co-producer" felt ominous.
"Do I really have to attend?"
"Of course! It’s fair to say that this project made it this far thanks to you."
"Joo Yeon, why just half? It’s basically all thanks to him!"
As the two chuckled, Lee Min Ki let out a hollow laugh and thought,
‘I don’t know anymore. Whatever happens, happens.’
Netplay was undeniably a massive company.
But its internal structure operated like a very small enterprise.
[It’s full of people focused solely on their tasks.]
[You have to find your own work. Nobody assigns you anything.]
[Survival of the fittest.]
[Plenty of people got fired for sitting idle, failing to meet their performance targets.]
[They pay a lot, but the fear of failing to deliver results is equally enormous.]
It was essentially like an alliance of individuals working together.
On paper, all employees were equals.
There were seniors and juniors, team leaders, and team members.
This applied to the two staff members handling the collaboration between Lee Min Ki and Maillard Pictures for Man Man Two.
"So, he’s coming to watch in the end."
"Right? I can’t believe I’m actually working with Lee Min Ki. Is this a dream or reality?"
These were the same two who had recently indulged in wild imaginations about Lee Min Ki joining the project.
Both shared the surname Park, so they were commonly referred to as "Two-Park" at the company.
Alternatively, they were known as Little Park and Big Park.
Little Park spoke first.
"If this project takes off, so do we."
Big Park replied,
"And if it flops, we’re going down together."
Cold sweat trickled down their backs.
They only knew the production schedule and that Lee Min Ki was a co-producer; they had no idea about the specifics.
They desperately wanted to dig into how the project was being made but had refrained, adhering to Netplay’s policy.
After providing creators with a hefty budget, Netplay left them alone until the agreed deadline.
‘They’re too scared to interfere, worried it’ll backfire.’
But that leniency ended today.
They would see the results—whether it was a success, failure, risotto, or burnt rice.
"Ready, Park?"
"Of course, Park."
After steeling their nerves, the duo walked steadily toward the Maillard Pictures building.
After exchanging quick greetings with the production team,
"Ah, Actor, could you sign here for me? Or should I call you Director now?"
"That’s too much. I’m just the face of the project; the production was led by these two."
"Ha ha, we believe that, but will the viewers?"
"Shall we watch first?"
The screening soon began.
And once they witnessed the results with their own eyes,
Two-Park had identical thoughts.
‘This, this can’t be real.’
‘Is this even possible?’
Man Man Two.
Though it was still rough and incomplete, in their eyes...
‘This is Lee Min Ki’s directorial debut?’
‘His first film is this?’
It looked monstrous.
‘This is amazing!’
It was pure entertainment.
Genuinely fun.
‘Oh, they’re already dead.’
The character they were rooting for got deceived and killed by a villain in an instant.
‘Ah, that’s so satisfying.’
But moments later, the same villain got a taste of their own medicine and was defeated by the protagonist.
‘I can’t predict what happens next.’
The stimulation was relentless.
Every second felt like a hammer pounding their brains.
The visuals were so gripping that even the briefest blink felt like a waste.
[Oh, too bad. There’s no lawyer here.]
Moreover, Lee Min Ki’s acting reached new heights.
He played [Nam Seok Goo], a character who dominated other contestants through sheer brute force on an island where a battle royale took place.
Whenever a villain seemed to gain momentum, Nam Seok Goo silenced them with a machete in a single slash.
[If you leave the island, I’ll give you all the mo—money you wa...]
[No need. I’m already rich.]
An ultimate cathartic character.
No matter how unpleasant the situation, as soon as Nam Seok Goo appeared, everything felt resolved, making him impossible not to root for.
[Once we’re off this island, you’re dead meat.]
[Oh, really? Once we’re off?]
The direction was no different.
It was hard to believe this was just a mid-preview with such quality.
‘Is this really a production with only around 2 billion won in budget?’
Even Tupac's thirst could be felt.
The urge to watch more, more, and even more became unbearable.
But, unfortunately.
“This is all we’ve prepared for now.”
It seemed today’s mid-preview had ended here.
“……Ah.”
A small groan escaped the big man's lips, filled with regret.
If only he could see the rest of the content, he wouldn’t mind paying tens of thousands of won.
The result piqued his curiosity.
‘Did Nam Seok Goo survive or not?’
To cut it off at this point.
These creators are devilish.
In truth, this was the precise tactic of Maillard Pictures’ production team.
[“If the response here is good, they’ll increase the second production budget, right?”]
[“Yes, as you said, Actor.”]
[“Then wouldn’t it be effective to end it on a cliffhanger to make them curious?”]
[……!]
It was a petty, almost despicable method, but it was convincing enough to accept.
And this was the result of their strategy.
‘I’m curious. Too curious.’
‘So, did he live or die?’
The fate of the characters consumed him.
If he asked the production team directly, they could reveal the answer immediately.
But that would be too disappointing.
An answer obtained easily often felt hollow.
Like a slow-cooked beef rib soup, he wanted to endure the wait and confirm it properly through the video.
“So, how did you feel about it?”
“Hmm.”
To Lee Min Ki’s smiling question, there was only one thing they could say.
“It seems the contract needs a bit of revision.”
Recently, what was the hottest anticipated film in the Korean movie industry?
Pocaroro?
A too-common romantic comedy.
Slower Than the Sunset?
Though it sold on OTT platforms, it flopped in Korea.
Na Hee Jin?
It seemed to thrive in auditions but faded away after its debut.
It was a time when hit productions were scarce.
Naturally, public attention focused on one side.
[“When is ‘Manslaughter Battle Royale’ releasing?”]
It was Lee Min Ki’s [Manslaughter Battle Royale].
The fiery concept of a battle royale.
The name value that came naturally from Lee Min Ki as an actor.
The mystique created by strictly hiding the production process.
And the exclusivity of a Netflix-style release.
[Manslaughter Battle Royale] had grown into the most anticipated release of the quarter before the production team could lift a finger.
[“They’re filming in Sinan County?”]
[“Then it must be a slave-related movie.”]
[“ㄴ Stop with the regional discrimination.”]
[“Since Sinan County invested directly, it won’t be about that ㅋㅋㅋ Obviously.”]
[“Then is it a movie about Lee Min Ki being kidnapped on an island and escaping?”]
[“ㄴ Oh, that’s a pretty novel concept.”]
[“ㄴㄴ But rumors say they hired a massive number of actors.”]
[“They didn’t spend much on the production budget, so where did they find so many actors?”]
[“It’s Lee Min Ki.”]
[“True, Lee Min Ki must have a lot of money.”]
The lack of information only amplified rumors.
Like Korea’s traditional ghost, the Eoduksini, growing infinitely bigger the more people feared it.
Because no details were revealed, it was mentioned more frequently, increasing its buzz.
[“It’s releasing in May, right? Just wait.”]
[“I already subscribed to Netflix lol.”]
But.
The rare news that finally arrived shattered their expectations mercilessly.
[Breaking News: Release of ‘Manslaughter Battle Royale’ delayed to July]
The release schedule had been postponed.
[???]
[???????????]
[?????]
[???????????????????????]
It was no surprise that Korean internet sites were filled with question marks.
They had been eagerly awaiting this one film, only for it to be delayed without any special explanation.
[“Why was it delayed?”]
[“I thought filming was going smoothly?”]
[“Did they go for reshoots because it didn’t turn out well?”]
[“Maybe they’re matching it to summer since the setting is an island.”]
[“Could it just be hype?”]
[“Isn’t it odd that an actor with a short career like Lee Min Ki is directing?”]
Netizens’ dissatisfaction began to grow.
If only there were a proper explanation, they might have understood, but Maillard Pictures kept silent.
[“Say something, at least.”]
In the midst of such suspicion and delayed release schedules.
Someone suddenly screamed in stress.
“Lee Min Ki―!!!!!!!!!”
It was none other than Emma Spector, the head of the Odin Universe.
“Because of him, I adjusted the release schedule to May, and now he’s postponed it to July without permission?”
She shouted as if she was about to rip the wallpaper with her nails.
“Are you kidding me? Do you think movie release schedules are a joke?”
Of course, they weren’t.
Adjusting one schedule meant changing countless other procedures.
But strictly speaking, the schedule had been aligned with Lee Min Ki’s timeline, not hers.
In a way, she was cursing herself.
Moreover, there was a peculiarity about OTT platforms.
Specifically.
[“Unlike theatrical releases, OTT platforms can delay their schedules as much as they want lol.”]
It was easy to adjust schedules.
For theatrical releases, global theaters had to coordinate tightly, so once a schedule was set, it couldn’t be changed casually.
But OTT platforms, being internet-exclusive, were more relaxed.
Except for AST, which planned meticulously.
That was a different matter altogether due to their overwhelming scale.
Yet from the start.
‘Why are they doing this over one Asian actor?’
It was irrational behavior.
“Change the schedule for New Guardians too.”
"……!"
A bombshell statement dropped.
In response to Emma Spector’s hysterics, her subordinate trembled as they spoke.
"Um, wouldn’t that be difficult…? The global marketing schedule has already been set."
"Who said anything about that? Just postpone the release date by two months."
"…If we do that, it will disrupt the schedules of other projects. Especially since the main actors’ events are scheduled week by week."
The Odin Universe was an enormous project that released at least three to four films a year.
If the schedule for one project was misaligned, it risked derailing the entire timeline for the others.
This was also why AST made such efforts to control its actors.
On the other hand, Lee Min Ki’s side...
[Ah, should we use the extra time to improve the quality?]
[Great idea, there were a few parts that felt lacking.]
...remained endlessly carefree in this aspect.
‘Lee Min Ki, Lee Min Ki, Lee Min Ki—why does he always make everything so exhausting?’
Emma Spector’s mind burned with hostility as she bit her lip.
It was something she could just ignore.
But her signature paranoia had long since blown out of proportion, turning Lee Min Ki into her sworn adversary.
‘He must have heard from Netplay, right? Postpone because May overlaps with the Odin Universe.’
Of course, that wasn’t the reason at all.
‘Fine, I’ll accommodate him this time. But he’ll suffer in another way.’
Resting her chin on her hand, Emma Spector finally spoke.
"Contact Netplay."
There was another way.
The fact that scheduling was flexible also meant it was easy to manipulate things from her side.