The Season When Flowers Bloom
Director Negi Jeong of K-Pop Evil Slayers had arrived in the country.
The projected completion date had been August.
The fact that he was landing in May—right in the thick of the final stretch—meant they had finished a full three months ahead of schedule.
"It's been a while, Director."
"It's been a while, Representative."
"Please, have a seat."
I offered Director Negi Jeong a chair and sat down beside him.
The reason we sat side by side instead of facing each other was simple.
We were about to watch the finished K-Sler together.
And we weren't alone in the room. Hong Mincheol, the company president; Park Eunmi, Head of Department; Yoon Heejeong, Head of Department for Art Music, and Team Leader Kim Ijeong; composer Lee J; my secretary Jeong Sora, who had come along; and finally Slerix and Jeoseung Boys were all present as well.
"I'll start the playback now."
Jeong Sora pressed play, and the one-hour-forty-minute film began rolling through the temporary screen and speakers set up in the conference room.
Honestly, I wouldn't call the artistic quality groundbreaking.
It was more like a familiar flavor.
But the attention to Korean detail was impressively thorough, and the soundtrack was nothing short of spectacular.
Every single track lodged itself straight into your ears.
You found yourself humming along, getting pulled in, the melodies looping endlessly in your head.
"What did you think?"
"Hmm..."
The moment the film ended, Director Negi Jeong asked with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, like a student waiting for his report card.
I let a beat of silence hang, then answered honestly.
"Overall, it's good. The story's a familiar flavor, so it lacks a bit of freshness, but the soundtrack is so outstanding that it completely pulls you into the work."
"Whew~"
I met his eyes and smiled as he made a show of wiping nonexistent sweat from his forehead with a sly expression.
Whether this was truly a work worth 132.7 billion won, I still wasn't sure—but Slerix and Jeoseung Boys were definitely going to get the spotlight.
"If you need any help, feel free to contact me anytime. Enjoy your trip with your family."
"Thank you, Representative. And if it's all right, I'd love to grab a meal before I head back."
"Of course. It would be my honor."
Director Negi Jeong had come straight to Art Company's headquarters upon landing, but he hadn't entered Korea because of K-Sler.
He had finished every last bit of work and come for a vacation—to travel Korea with his family.
The baton for K-Sler was now fully in our hands.
"Sora, double-check with Metflix that the release is still on the scheduled date."
"Yes, Representative."
"Head of Department Park Eunmi and Head of Department Yoon Heejeong, put a little extra care into the promotion and marketing. Ah, Head of Department Yoon."
"Yes."
"Tell Baek Seoyun to post something on social media. That she's looking forward to the film."
"Understood. I'll pass it along."
"All right. This is where it really begins. Ready?"
"Yes, Representative!!"
Everyone had prepared so hard over the past year.
They had meticulously covered every possible contingency.
Now it was time to see whether the seeds we had fertilized and watered would sprout and bloom.
Huh???
What is this?
It had only been yesterday.
Metflix, with whom we had signed a one-month early-release deal, had premiered K-Pop Evil Slayers.
And the internet was instantly wallpapered with articles like this.
On the very day of release, it had claimed the daily film ranking number-one spot in seventeen countries.
Had I invested too much money?
Was that why I was having this dream?
"Iseul, can you pinch my cheek for me?"
"Your cheek?"
"Yeah."
"Like this?"
"No, harder. With everything you've got."
"For real..?"
"Yeah. Hurry up."
"....Okay.."
"Aaaargh!!!!"
"Kyaah!!"
"Why did you pinch so hard?! Do you have a grudge against me?!"
"You told me to pinch with all my strength, Oppa!"
It hurt.
It hurt so much that tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.
So this wasn't a dream..?
In Korea, where it had been sitting at number four until yesterday, it climbed to number one.
With that, on day two of release, it had seized the top spot in twenty-seven countries—an absolute spectacle.
"Is it really that entertaining..?"
I was flustered.
Still, by tomorrow the bubble should deflate a little.
The day-three numbers came in.
Number one in thirty-two countries, they said.
It was something I should have been celebrating, yet bewilderment outweighed joy.
And it wasn't just me—Director Negi Jeong, who had planned and produced K-Sler, felt the same.
"Why is this happening..?"
"I know... Why is it like this..?"
We had sat down for a meal with Director Negi Jeong's family, yet none of us touched the food.
We just stared blankly at our phones.
Unbelievable rankings, a flood of articles, and then brand-new news on top of it all.
I hadn't expected to make much money from the film itself.
I hadn't even been particularly set on breaking even.
If the movie alone recouped its costs, I would have called it a miracle—that was how low my expectations had been.
So what on earth was going on?
What was happening here?
"Representative Yoo Eunho?"
"Ah, sorry. I've been a bit out of it lately. What did you say?"
I asked Kim Hyunsoo, VP and head of Metflix Korea, who sat across from me.
Beside him sat someone who had flown in from the US headquarters.
"I said we would like to buy back every right we sold to U-INVESTMENT."
"For how much?"
"132.7 billion. We'll match the exact amount we sold it for at the time."
"Ah, so you're telling me to take my 20 billion profit and walk away."
"Representative, that's not—"
"I decline."
I refused flatly.
There was no reason to accept.
In the current situation, a worldwide theatrical release alone would easily recover the 132.7 billion.
Of course, because people had already watched it on OTT, the theater turnout might not be huge—but if even two million viewers showed up in each of the forty-two countries where it had hit number one, that would total eighty-four million tickets.
The ratio would differ by country, but even a rough calculation showed we would not only recoup the 132.7 billion production budget but guarantee at least double that in pure profit.
And the chance to hear the K-Sler soundtrack in a theater?
That alone would make people who had already streamed it happily buy tickets.
So the two-million-per-country figure I had set was literally the absolute worst-case scenario.
"VP Kim Hyunsoo."
"Yes, Representative Yoo."
"We've already entered theatrical distribution negotiations with distributors in the US and multiple other countries. We're also in talks with other OTT platforms."
"Representative Yoo!"
"I don't need to explain further why I declined, do I? If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."
"W-wait a moment!!"
The second I started to rise, VP Kim Hyunsoo shot out a hand to stop me.
Once I sat back down, he urgently conferred with the high-ranking official from headquarters beside him.
The offer that came out of that conversation still wasn't satisfying.
"OTT exclusive release. We'll pay an additional 50 billion."
That would bring the total from Metflix to 70 billion.
Meaning if we made just 63 billion from theaters, we would break even.
But they were seriously mistaken about something.
"People who are curious about the film, who feel like they should watch it because everyone else is, who are hesitating because K-Sler isn't on the OTT platform they already subscribe to—do you really think the value of all those potential customers is only 50 billion? In the past four days alone, K-Sler has surpassed 17 million views. Dazney offered 20 billion."
"......"
Dazney, Pineapple, domestic OTTs, and especially the Japanese OTT platforms that were showing intense interest—together they could easily bring in 50 billion.
No, more than that.
But if the offers were similar, I would still partner with Metflix.
Long-term, I believed that would yield greater benefits.
"How much are you thinking?"
"132.7 billion."
"Representative."
"But I want to maintain a good relationship with Metflix. Besides this K-Sler, U-I is investing in other projects as well."
"OTT exclusive release for 70 billion. And we'd also like to sign a contract for the drama that's about to wrap production."
"Another project?"
"It's a Korean-style superhero drama we invested 33 billion in, planned as a series. We're offering a licensing deal for 45 billion."
"Hooo....."
A deep sigh escaped VP Kim Hyunsoo's lips.
Of course it did.
Normally they would lock down an original contract that transferred every right.
But a licensing deal only sold the right to stream the work.
In other words, U-I retained all copyrights while Metflix merely gained the right to release the drama.
It meant becoming the subordinate party in the contract, not the dominant one.
"I'll give you time to consider. Three days, though. We're unilaterally putting other OTT negotiations on hold, so I can't offer much more time."
"Yes. We'll discuss it thoroughly internally and get back to you."
I really hoped this negotiation would go through.
As it was, the Korean-style superhero drama Hidden had been met with such skepticism that even combining broadcasters and OTT platforms, we had only received offers around 10 billion.
In that climate, if we could bundle Hidden with K-Sler, it would be the perfect deal—and 115 billion would drop straight into our hands.
With that money we could finally push forward on all the other investments we had been drooling over.
"Please take the bait..! Please take it...!! Just take it already!!!"
Would Metflix accept my proposal?
I couldn't know—but one thing was certain.
The box-office storm of K-Sler was still very much ongoing.