Chapter 196

Chapter 196

Time passed quickly.

The scorching summer faded away, and cool autumn arrived.

In the meantime, Song Jaehyun’s next film, I Can See the Money, finally began shooting in September under intense attention from both the press and the public.

It was his first new film in four years since Kingdom of Crime.

Network Flex’s first Korean original, Kingdom of Blood, also entered pre-production with plans to begin filming the following March.

A massive set began construction in Gyeonggi Province.

Even with everything moving at a frantic pace, the project I devoted the most attention to was still Hanshin Media’s own OTT platform.

We named the new platform New Wave.

It meant a new wave.

It was also the name of the first film company Song Jaehyun and I had created together.

Our goal was to launch New Wave in Korea in the winter of 2018, then expand to at least eighty countries during the first half of 2019.

The technical side of the platform was being handled capably by specialists in their respective fields.

But in the end, what determined an OTT platform’s success was content.

No matter how good the system was, it was useless if there was nothing worth watching.

So I divided our content acquisition strategy into four major tracks and pushed all of them forward at once.

The first was securing our own original content.

Big Picture was already planning to produce four originals timed to New Wave’s launch.

But things weren’t easy.

Big Picture was already overloaded.

There was Song Jaehyun’s I Can See the Money.

Kingdom of Blood.

Dramas already scheduled with YTBS and MBS.

And now four additional projects intended for the New Wave launch.

The company was practically producing everything at once.

To solve Big Picture’s overload, I proposed co-productions with small and mid-sized production companies.

I specifically targeted smaller drama producers struggling under the dominance of the major broadcasters.

They lacked capital.

We needed content.

It was a win-win situation.

“We’ll cover seventy percent of the production budget.”

“Revenue will be split seven to three.”

“In exchange, New Wave gets exclusive release rights for five years after launch.”

The terms were almost identical to the agreement we had signed with Network Flex.

The response was explosive.

Within a month, we signed partnerships with five production companies, and three dramas had already entered production.

“Director, at this pace, I think we can line up at least twenty exclusive titles by the time New Wave launches.”

Kang Jooyoung, now head of the Content Team in Hanshin Media’s OTT Platform Business Department, smiled brightly.

“Twenty isn’t enough.”

“We need to assume we’ll be releasing at least two to five original series every quarter.”

“Oh, and what happened with Japan and Taiwan?”

“Assistant Manager Joo Youngjae is actually flying to Japan tomorrow.”

“And the Taiwanese production company said they’ll come to Korea themselves.”

Since we were positioning New Wave as a global OTT platform, I believed that even if we couldn’t secure American or European originals right away, we at least needed content from East and Southeast Asia.

That was why we had been exploring partnerships with local production companies.

And in that regard, much of what we had learned through Network Flex was proving incredibly useful.

The second track was securing independent film distribution rights.

I personally visited the Jeonju International Film Festival and the Busan International Film Festival and approached independent directors who were struggling to secure theatrical releases.

“Release it exclusively on New Wave.”

“We’ll give you the lowest distribution fee in the industry.”

For filmmakers who couldn’t even afford proper marketing because of limited budgets, the proposal was like rain after a drought.

And one by one, we began securing independent film distribution rights.

The third track was IP adaptation projects.

Most of the production companies partnered with us were small studios.

At most, they had one or two projects of their own in development.

So we used the exclusive adaptation rights we had secured through New Moon.

Hanshin Media would cover the upfront option fee paid to the original creator.

In exchange, the production company would guarantee the creator a running royalty and be allowed to use the original IP.

The production companies reacted enthusiastically.

Dramas based on webtoons and web novels had recently been gaining momentum.

And since we were offering to cover the upfront source-material fee that would normally burden smaller production companies, more than ten IP agreements were signed within a single month.

Finally, for the fourth track, we signed licensing agreements with MBS and YTBS, broadcasters that had worked with Big Picture for years.

The agreements allowed us to use the IP of every drama for which they held broadcast rights for five years after New Wave’s launch.

That part had been the hardest.

Terrestrial broadcasters and cable channels were conservative.

And since they weren’t desperate for anything from us, they had little reason to hand over licenses easily.

But Big Picture had delivered hit drama after hit drama for them over the years.

Thanks to that history of friendship and trust, we eventually managed to secure the licenses.

While we pushed ahead with the launch of our own OTT platform, 2016 came to an end.

And 2017 began.

Then, one day in March, Song Jaehyun finally completed all filming for I Can See the Money after a six-month shoot.

Not long afterward, a large barbecue restaurant in Gangnam was packed with film industry people, staff, and actors gathered for the wrap party.

“Everyone worked incredibly hard during the shoot!”

Cha Seungjoon, the film’s main producer, raised his glass.

“I Can See the Money! Let’s make it a huge hit!”

Glasses clinked all around the restaurant.

“Director, you really worked hard.”

“Have a drink from me too.”

I quickly filled Song Jaehyun’s empty glass.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He drank, then looked at me.

“I heard you stopped by the editing room yesterday.”

“Of all times, you came when I was away.”

“There were a few things I wanted to ask you while watching it together.”

“I’ll stop by again soon.”

“By the way, I saw the rough cut.”

“It was really good.”

“Seriously?”

Song Jaehyun looked at me cautiously.

“You’re not just saying that because you’re afraid I’ll get upset, right?”

“Come on, Director.”

“Why would I say that?”

“It was genuinely excellent.”

“I don’t think people will even be able to compare it to Kingdom of Crime.”

I wasn’t exaggerating.

It was the same story as the film I remembered before my regression.

But the quality was far higher.

Seeing the certainty in my eyes, Song Jaehyun finally let out a relieved breath.

“Then that’s a relief.”

“If Director Min is saying that, I can finally relax.”

After the success of Kingdom of Crime, the pressure on Song Jaehyun regarding his next project had been enormous.

My opinion alone seemed enough to send his expression between heaven and hell.

“Tch.”

Baek Seonghan, who had been grilling meat beside Song Jaehyun, pouted.

“When I told you it was good, you looked like you didn’t believe me.”

“But Director Min says it’s good and suddenly you’re relieved. Hahaha.”

Just then,

“Hey, Director Min.”

“Isn’t this a little too much?”

Moon Hyunbin, the lead actor of the film, sat down beside me with an aggrieved expression.

“No matter how busy you are, you only showed your face on set once or twice a month.”

“That’s right.”

Cha Seungjoon, the main producer, sat beside him.

“Back during Kingdom of Crime, you practically haunted the set like a ghost.”

“Has your love cooled off? Hmph.”

“Hey, don’t give him a hard time.”

Baek Seonghan scolded them.

“Director Min really doesn’t have enough hours in the day lately.”

“He’s working around the clock.”

“It’s painful just watching him.”

“Seriously.”

Moon Changsoo, who had joined our table at some point, looked at me with concern.

“Kibaek hyung, your face looks terrible these days.”

“Should I get you some herbal medicine from somewhere good?”

“Oh, look at him.”

Moon Hyunbin immediately scoffed.

“When the top actor at your agency looked half-dead after staying up for days straight, you couldn’t care less.”

“Exactly.”

Cha Seungjoon joined in.

“Moon Changsoo, you’re supposed to be an agency director, but you never show your face on set.”

“You only appear when there’s a company dinner.”

“How shameless.”

This time, everyone’s complaints turned toward Moon Changsoo.

“All right, all right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s why I specially brought this today.”

Moon Changsoo pulled a bottle from the paper bag he had brought.

“Thirty-year-old Ballantine’s.”

Cheers erupted all around.

While everyone continued talking in the cheerful atmosphere,

“Kibaek.”

At the familiar voice, I quickly turned.

It was Gil Boyoung.

“Noona!”

She had arrived late and walked straight toward our table.

Everyone immediately made room for her.

“Hey, Gil Boyoung.”

“You only see Team Leader Min and not the rest of us?”

Moon Hyunbin grumbled.

“Oh my.”

Gil Boyoung laughed playfully.

“Hyunbin oppa, you were here too? Hoho.”

“Why are you so late?”

“Didn’t you only have one short photo shoot this afternoon?”

“Ah, it ran longer than I expected.”

Gil Boyoung said that while Moon Changsoo poured her a drink.

After wrapping up her activities in the United States, Gil Boyoung had been focusing on domestic work and had even joined Song Jaehyun’s new film.

“By the way, our Kibaek is impossible to see these days.”

“I thought I’d see you often once you were staying in Korea.”

“Sorry.”

“I think I’ll be like this until New Wave launches.”

“But I’m happy I can at least see you like this.”

Then I remembered something.

“Oh, noona.”

“What did you decide about Kingdom of Blood?”

“Are you going to appear in it?”

“Ah, right.”

“I decided to do it.”

“Really?”

“That’s great.”

“The role isn’t huge, which is a shame, but it’s extremely important.”

“I thought you’d fit it perfectly.”

For the first time in a while, we talked for a long time.

Everyone’s laughter scattered through the smoke filling the barbecue restaurant.

They were all vaguely hoping for future success through the warmth of alcohol.

But I could see it clearly.

If Kingdom of Crime was the signal flare, I Can See the Money is the explosion.

That overwhelming box-office score I remembered sweeping through theaters before my regression.

And this time, with my influence, the quality had evolved even further.

Song Jaehyun’s legend was only just beginning.

And the pen writing that legend was in my hand.


Time passed again.

Kingdom of Blood began principal photography in April, about twenty days later than originally planned.

Roughly a month after filming began, Jessica, Team Leader of Network Flex Korea, called me.

“Director Min, the studio team from our U.S. headquarters wants to visit the set of Kingdom of Blood in person.”

“Would you be able to personally show them around?”

“Of course.”

“When are they planning to come to Korea?”

A few days later, I led the studio team from Network Flex’s U.S. headquarters to the massive outdoor set for Kingdom of Blood in Gyeonggi Province.

“Wow.”

“This is incredible.”

The headquarters staff, visiting a Korean production set for the first time, couldn’t stop voicing their amazement.

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