To Jihoon, a successful horror film wasn't just a movie; it was a golden opportunity.
He saw it as the perfect kind of project—low cost, high return—and beyond that, he dreamed of building something bigger: a fully realized horror genre IP franchise.
Nobody in the history of cinema had ever managed to create a true "Horror Cinematic Universe." There was no proven formula, no past record for him and his team to follow.
And such uncertainty didn't discourage him—it fueled him.
Jihoon had always carried a restless ambition, the kind that refused to settle for "good enough."
If he was going to launch this universe, he wanted to do it in a way that would make the industry take notice.
That was why he set his sights so high for GET OUT. Winning the prestigious Oscar wasn't just about the trophy.
It was about sending a message: horror could be smart, powerful, and respected on the same level as any other genre.
Deep down, Jihoon knew that if he could achieve this, it would be his legacy—a mark that he had changed the industry in a way no one could ignore.
He also believed that horror, though often underestimated, was one of the most technically challenging genres to get right.
To many, these films seemed like low-production projects filled with jump scares and clichés. But Jihoon knew better. In the hands of a skilled director, a horror film could become so much more.
Horror wasn't just about fear; it was about how fear was told.
Jihoon imagined the ways a single creative choice could transform a scene: the tilt of the camera at the perfect heart-stopping moment, the subtle shift in color saturation during the climax, or a tiny, seemingly insignificant detail—like a bouncing ball rolling into a scene—that could silently foreshadow something critical.
These weren't just tricks; they were the kind of artistic touches that elevated a film from "just another horror movie" to something unforgettable.
Jihoon wanted to be the one to prove it.
He wasn't content with producing disposable entertainment; he wanted to shake up the genre and, in doing so, cement his place in film history.
If he could make GET OUT a commercial success and an Oscar contender, it would be more than a win.
It would be the first brick in the foundation of his Horror Cinematic Universe, a bold vision he hoped would outlast him.
The next few days were a blur for Jihoon. He locked himself in his room, scribbling on notepads, drawing diagrams on the whiteboard, and pacing the room like a man possessed. He knew GET OUT alone wouldn't be enough to create the kind of "smokescreen" he wanted—the buzz needed to be bigger, louder, impossible to ignore.
"One film just won't cut it," he muttered under his breath as he stared at the notes scattered on his desk. "At least two more. Yeah… three films together should be enough to build momentum and pull in the fanbase I need."
He leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against his lips as the plan began to take shape. Jihoon didn't just want to release movies; he wanted to launch an entire Horror Cinematic Universe, the kind of interconnected franchise that would make the industry take him seriously.
After hours of planning, he finally picked up the phone and dialed Jim's number. It rang a few times before a familiar voice answered on the other end.
"What's up, Jihoon?" Jim sounded relaxed, probably calling from his office at 20th Century Studios.
"Jim… how's the stuff I asked you to prepare?" Jihoon asked, his tone casual but firm.
"Oh, that?" Jim hesitated for a second before replying. "It's almost done. Give me a couple more days and we'll have everything ready."
"Great," Jihoon said, nodding to himself. "Let me know the second it's ready."
"No problem," Jim replied. There was a short pause, then he added, "Um… can I ask you something?"
"Shoot," Jihoon said, spinning the pen between his fingers.
"Why are you planning to start two film productions at the same time?" Jim's voice was a mix of curiosity and concern. "I mean, that's… ambitious, even for you."
Jihoon didn't answer immediately. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He trusted Jim—after all, he was not only an executive at 20th Century but also a key partner in this venture.
Still, Jihoon knew he had to word this carefully, cause he doesnt want his plan leaked before the launching of the project.
"Well, since you asked…" Jihoon finally said, his voice even. "I'm planning to film two more projects alongside GET OUT. Because I feel that one film isn't enough to launch the Horror Cinematic Universe the way I want."
"We need more momentum, more noise. Three films together will build hype and get people invested right from the start."
There was a sharp whistle from the other end. "Two more films… at the same time? Jihoon, that's bold," Jim said, disbelief creeping into his tone.
"And don't you think it's going to affect the quality of the films?"
"Remember what you told me back when I was deciding whether to buy into JH in Korea?"
"You said you only wanted to create high-quality films, no shortcuts. Now you're talking about rushing two productions at once—don't you think you're lowering your own standards?"
Jihoon let the words hang in the air for a moment. He understood Jim's concern—it wasn't unreasonable—but he knew what he was doing.
"I know how it sounds," Jihoon admitted calmly.
"But I'm not lowering the standard, Jim. Trust me. I'm using the same strategy we pulled off with the Oscars—only bigger this time."
"We're aiming for Venice and Cannes. If we can make a splash at both festivals, the buzz will be enormous. The audience will be watching us, waiting for what comes next."
"And about the quality?" Jim pressed.
Jihoon leaned forward now, his voice firmer. "Who said I'm sacrificing quality? One of the films is tight—it'll only take about fifteen to twenty days to shoot. Once that's wrapped, I'll have all the time I need to focus on the second one properly."
"We're not rushing for the sake of it, Jim. This is about timing. We either go big now, or we risk losing the spark completely."
Jim was quiet for a moment. Jihoon could almost picture him on the other end, leaning back in his office chair, weighing the risk.
Then, a low chuckle came through the line. "You really don't think small, do you?"
Jihoon smirked. "Never have, never will. Now, just make sure everything's ready. We don't have room for mistakes this time."
"Alright," Jim said, and Jihoon could hear a shift in his tone—less hesitant now, more energized. "I'll get it done. Keep me in the loop, okay?"
"Always," Jihoon replied, before hanging up.