Chance, luck, and the door you choose to open.
People say luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.
A poetic line, sure—but in Hollywood, that sentence slaps different.
In this brutal playground where dreams bloom and die within the same breath, "luck" is less of a blessing and more of a collision—a moment when the universe slams two forces together: someone ready and someone watching.
Jihoon believed that.
He believed it the same way Eminem once rapped: If you had one shot, one opportunity… would you capture it or let it slip?
For Jihoon, that wasn't just a lyric.
It was philosophy — the kind that comes from the real underdog, the kind born on the streets.
Chance—sometimes it comes disguised as luck, sometimes as a cruel cosmic joke, and sometimes as a God-given ticket.
Some people grind their entire lives, bleeding sweat and time for a single opening.
Others are born with a golden spoon already dipped into a bowl of destiny.
Cruel? Absolutely. But that's the truth of life.
And Hollywood? Hollywood is simply that cruelty with better lighting.
Talent isn't enough.
Skill isn't enough.
Hard work isn't enough.
It takes a keen eye to spot talent—and an even braver one to gamble on it.
Opportunity isn't just about being deserving; it's about someone powerful deciding, "I'm giving you a shot."
And right now, Jihoon was doing exactly that for James Wan—a chance of a lifetime, the kind most directors chase for decades and never touch.
Jihoon didn't care about the man's limited Hollywood experience, or the whispers around studios.
He saw something else.
Vision.
Instinct.
Fire.
That was enough.
But Fox Studio? Oh, they were sweating bullets.
When Jim and the Fox board heard Jihoon wanted James to direct the next Saw sequel, they practically aged ten years each.
In their eyes, this wasn't bold—it was reckless. It wasn't creative—it was suicidal.
Film companies loved talking about "innovation," but when faced with actual risk?
They ran like hell.
Especially a company as massive as Fox.
Risk wasn't just a creative decision—it was a financial earthquake.
One wrong move and their investors would scream loud enough to shake the studio gates.
So when Jim confronted Jihoon about his decision, Jihoon knew he couldn't wing it.
Friendship or not, Jim didn't answer to himself—he answered to hundreds of suits sitting in boardrooms with ties too tight and imaginations too small.
Jihoon inhaled, measured his words, then finally answered:
"Jim… how long do you think I can direct every HCU sequel?"
He paused.
"Forever? Does that make sense to you?"
Jihoon wasn't arrogant—he was honest.
"When you look at this company from a filmmaker's perspective, cultivating new directors is healthy growth. And let's be real—I'm currently our most recognized director. Cannes. Oscars. Festivals. If I'm the only one directing the sequels, doesn't that lower the studio's standard instead of raising it?"
Jim nodded slowly at first—but years of corporate instincts kicked in, and he countered:
"That's fair… but what about Peli? Why risk everything on James when Peli has more experience?"
Jihoon shook his head.
"Because risk is something you take while you're young. Look at JH LA—we've barely existed a year."
"This is the perfect time for daring moves. When we grow into a giant company, risk becomes suicide. We're not like Fox—you all have room for error. We don't. So I'd rather make mistakes now than let JH suffer in the future."
He leaned back and added:
"And Peli? He has his own path. His Paranormal Activity franchise is his baby. He wants to keep developing that IP. Forcing him to direct HCU sequels would just cage his creativity. That's not fair to him, and it's not fair to the project."
Oren Peli—JH's shadow mastermind.
The man behind the camera since the company's birth.
He walked into Jihoon's life because Nolan needed investors for his first film Paranormal Activity and instead walked out with Jihoon's trust and a new cinematic universe.
Jihoon owed him a lot.
Peli gave JH credibility.
But Paranormal Activity? That IP belonged somewhere else.
Originally, the plan was to fold Paranormal Activity into the HCU. But after dozens of meetings, headaches, late-night script sessions, and timeline breakdowns, Jihoon and the Fox team realized something:
HCU was grounded—terrifying, yes, but grounded.
Get Out, Saw and Buried are all rooted in science, twisted logic and psychological horror.
But Paranormal Activity?
Full-blown phantoms. Unexplainable forces. Demons that would make an SCP researcher quit.
Sure, they could have jammed it into the HCU using containment protocols and quantum lore, but it felt forced.
And Jihoon hated forced.
So with that in mind, both Jihoon and Fox thinks is better to let the Paranormal franchise grow independently.
And maybe—far in the future, when HCU expanded into multiverses—they could bring it in through a parallel universe crossover.
DC did it.
Marvel did it.
Why not them?
With that settled, the focus returned to the room.
Jim watched Jihoon for a long moment before exhaling.
He knew this stubborn director—once Jihoon decided something, no force on earth could budge him. And annoying as that was… his reasoning made sense. Maybe too much sense.
Still, Jim wasn't done. He rubbed his temple and muttered:
"But don't you think 50 million is too much for Saw 2?"
Jihoon blinked.
"…What?"
Jim repeated, more carefully, "James submitted the sequel screenplay with an estimated budget between 10 and 50 million."
Jihoon's jaw dropped.
"What?! That script should cost a few million at most! I reviewed it myself before he submitted it! Are we looking at the same file?!"
Jim sighed.
"It's your fault."
"My fault? How—?"
"He watched your film Buried. Then he decided he wants the post-credits scene of Saw 2 to be 'bigger.' Much bigger."
Hiss.
Jihoon sucked in air like someone had slapped him with a fish.
A post-credit scene.
Just a few minutes.
How did that balloon into a ten-million-dollar spectacle?
What the hell was James trying to shoot—Armageddon?
Jihoon pinched the bridge of his nose.
"…Alright. Give me a minute. Let me finish filming my next scene, and then I'll call him."
Jim nodded, relieved, though still stressed enough to age a few years.