The Weight of a Call
He hesitated for a moment, then answered the call.
"Yes, Chairman. This is Kim Si-woo."
"Mr. Kim Si-woo, the appraiser. I hope I’m not disturbing you so early."
The voice of the chairman of Korea’s largest conglomerate, a man who led a global enterprise, was calm and composed.
"Not at all. I read the message you sent yesterday."
"I sent it as soon as I saw the documentary, without thinking much of it, but after sending it I wondered whether I’d been a little too hasty."
Chairman Lee Jae-yong gave an awkward laugh and got to the point.
"As I mentioned in the message, I’m calling about dinner. Would you happen to be free this evening?"
He had called it a simple courtesy.
That made the idea of inviting him to dinner the very next day all the more surprising.
"I understand it’s sudden. I’d like to meet you as soon as possible and speak in person. If you’re busy, we can always postpone it."
There was nothing performative in Lee Jae-yong’s tone.
"It would be an honor. This evening works for me anytime."
"I’ll send you the location by text."
"Yes, of course."
"And there’s something I’d like to tell you face-to-face, Mr. Kim Si-woo."
"Something to tell me?"
"It’s not something I’d like to discuss over the phone. I’ll speak with you over dinner around seven."
"Understood. I’ll see you then."
The call ended.
Si-woo stared down at his smartphone, dazed.
Dinner with Lee Jae-yong?
And that business about something he wanted to tell him kept tugging at the back of his mind.
The head of a major conglomerate wasn’t calling just to share a meal.
What could it be?
Was it something involving artifacts?
If he was being asked to appraise something, that would be a problem.
Or was it about the Samjung Group foundation?
There was a cultural foundation under Samjung Group, and beneath that, the Leeum Museum of Art.
Measured by scale alone, it was on par with, if not greater than, many national museums.
But even then, there would be no need for the chairman to step in personally.
That was the kind of matter a working-level executive could handle.
In short, it meant this was not some light, casual proposal.
One thing was certain.
There had been no trace of business calculation in Lee Jae-yong’s voice.
The raw, heartfelt message he had sent after watching Singing Bird.
Si-woo could tell that much clearly enough.
I’ll just have to go and find out.
He let the thought go.
It was pointless to grind his brain over information he didn’t have.
He set the smartphone down on the table.
Shin A-young asked carefully, "Was that call just now... by any chance Chairman Lee Jae-yong?"
"Yes."
Shin A-young’s eyes widened.
Her hand, which had been holding a coffee cup, froze in midair.
"Chairman Lee Jae-yong called you himself? Not his secretary’s office?"
"Yes. He said he wanted to have dinner with me tonight."
Leaning back against her chair, Shin A-young said with a stunned expression, "Si-woo, how many people in this country do you think get a personal call from Chairman Lee Jae-yong asking them to dinner? That’s incredible."
"I’m not sure. It doesn’t quite feel real to me either."
He brushed it off with a small laugh.
There was no need to tell Shin A-young that Lee Jae-yong had said he had something to discuss.
Without even knowing what it was, running his mouth about it would be disrespectful.
I’ll just hear him out tonight.
He lifted his coffee and took a sip.
* * *
Greek Peters, the co-CEO of Nutflix, boarded a flight from San Jose International Airport and crossed the Pacific before touching down at Incheon International Airport.
He had barely slept a wink during the entire flight.
He couldn’t even count how many times he had refreshed Singing Bird’s live data on his tablet.
Global No. 1.
No. 1 in simultaneous streaming across 190 countries.
The first non-English documentary in Nutflix history to ever set that record.
The stock price had hit an all-time high, and analysts on Wall Street were raising their target prices one after another.
One documentary, Singing Bird, had effectively added trillions of won to Nutflix’s market cap.
Of course, the excitement would fade with time.
But it showed more than enough of the value Kim Si-woo has.
Originally, Greek had intended to leave the renegotiation with Kim Si-woo to Yang Dong-seok, the Asia-Pacific executive in charge.
But once Singing Bird came out, there was no choice but for Greek Peters himself to step in as CEO.
This was no simple matter of a content contract.
This was about binding Kim Si-woo himself to Nutflix.
Right now, media outlets all over the world were saying his name.
At a moment like this, there was no way the major Hollywood studios would sit still.
We have to lock him down.
He was certain every competing platform would be showering Si-woo with offers.
He knew all too well what happened when you lost the timing in a content war.
That wasn’t a judgment on Yang Dong-seok’s ability.
Quite the opposite.
Without Yang Dong-seok, Singing Bird never would have been made in the first place.
It’s Kim Si-woo’s name value that has gotten too big.
Greek Peters smiled wryly.
A business card with “Asia-Pacific Executive” on it carried a different weight from one with “Co-CEO.”
The message it sent was different too.
There was a world of difference between our Asia team wants you and all of Nutflix wants you.
That difference would decide whether the contract got signed.
During the flight, Greek had held three video calls with Yang Dong-seok.
"The contract terms, the scale of the production budget, and the direction for Season Two are all ready."
Yang Dong-seok had already prepared everything without a gap.
"We’ve already secured enough footage, so once Kim Si-woo signs, we can move straight into Season Two production."
For the first time in a long while, Greek Peters felt tension running through his whole body.
* * *
Si-woo returned to his office and turned on his computer.
His morning schedule was open.
He had a meeting with Yang Dong-seok at two in the afternoon, but until then he was free.
Let’s sort this out first.
He opened Byeolstagram.
The moment he logged in, the screen felt sluggish, as if it had frozen.
He checked his follower count.
......What the hell is this?
He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
The follower count, which had been just over 100,000 when he first opened the account, had now climbed to nearly 20 million.
He tapped into his DM list.
The scroll bar never seemed to end.
English, Japanese, French, Spanish...
Messages were pouring in, tangled together in a storm of languages.
He could even spot dozens of accounts with blue verification badges.
Hollywood actors.
World-famous musicians.
French luxury fashion designers.
People whose names alone were enough to make headlines had sent him messages directly.
If he started reading them, he felt like there would be no end to it.
It was physically impossible to reply with thanks to each one individually.
He had already been busy enough replying to texts from the night before.
For now, he closed the DM list.
Instead, he looked over his following list.
There were only a handful of accounts he followed at the moment.
The official Eterna Gallery account.
Nutflix Korea.
And the Kim Hak-joon Public Welfare Foundation.
That was about it.
He briefly considered following a few of the celebrities who had messaged him.
His finger hovered over the follow button.
No. Better not.
If he followed just one of them, it would probably become a topic of discussion.
Why did he follow that person and not me?
Wasn’t he just trying to show off his connections?
The internet was the kind of place that found meaning in things like that.
And he wasn’t a celebrity.
Following a Hollywood star could itself become news.
Staying quiet is the right answer.
He decided to leave the following list as it was.
But he did decide to make a post.
So many people had followed him, after all.
If his last post had been from weeks ago, that would be rude.
He felt he ought to say at least a few words.
He had been planning to upload a handwritten letter over a background of white chrysanthemums to express his condolences.
The problem was the wording.
What should I write?
He thought about it for a long time.
It didn’t need to be flashy.
But something like, "Thank you for watching," would be no better than saying nothing at all.
The people who had cried while watching Singing Bird.
The people whose hearts had ached over Joseph and Maria’s story.
What could he say to them?
His fingers moved over the keyboard.
- I will keep Joseph and Maria in my heart.
It was short.
But it was the truest thing he could say.
One line wasn’t enough.
He opened the cap of his fountain pen and set the nib to the letter paper.
He had always been confident in his handwriting.
When he was young, his mother used to say that if a person wanted to be proper, they had to write properly, too, and the practice she made him do had finally paid off here.
- To everyone who watched Singing Bird.
- Being able to share Joseph and Maria’s story with the world was an enormous stroke of luck for me.
(omitted)
- Artifacts carry the stories of people, and those stories do not disappear with time.
- I sincerely thank everyone who shared those same feelings through Singing Bird.
He added a few more lines.
Then, at the end, he wrote, "Respectfully, Kim Si-woo," and set the pen down.
He photographed the letter page with his smartphone.
The fountain-pen handwriting came through clearly.
There was a warmth to it that printed type could never have, the warmth of something that had come from a human hand.
The moment he uploaded the post, likes began pouring in at once.
Watching the numbers rise in real time felt unreal.
Comments flooded in as well.
Heart emojis and teary-face emojis.
Different languages from all over the world.
It was the moment he felt the scale of Singing Bird’s impact in raw numbers.
* * *
Eterna Gallery, VIP lounge.
2 p.m.
The appointed time was approaching.
Shin A-young sat on his right, and a legal adviser sat on his left.
He assumed Nutflix would offer good terms, given the situation.
As long as there were no major problems, they could confirm the conditions, take some time to review, and then sign.
That was what he thought.
Knock, knock.
With a knock, the lounge door opened.
Yang Dong-seok came in first.
Another man followed behind him.
A tall foreigner in a gray suit with a neatly knotted tie.
He had a face that seemed vaguely familiar.
Yang Dong-seok introduced him.
"Let me introduce the person who came with me today."
The foreigner stepped forward and extended his hand.
"I’m Greek Peters."
Si-woo froze with his hand in the grip.
...Greek Peters?
One of the two men leading Nutflix alongside Ted Sarandos.
The head of a global OTT platform with more than 200 million subscribers was standing right in front of him.
"I’ve wanted to meet you," he said, shaking Si-woo’s hand. "Mr. Kim Si-woo, the appraiser."
"Did you really come all the way from the States for this contract?"
"Of course."
As Greek Peters took a seat at the table, he went on, "It’s about twelve hours from San Jose to Incheon. I barely slept at all on the plane. I’m a fan of Mr. Kim Si-woo, so I was tense the whole way here. Haha."
It was a light joke, but the message was clear.
"I came in person to show you exactly how serious Nutflix is about you, Mr. Kim Si-woo."
Greek Peters looked at him with a serious expression.
"In the fifteen years I’ve worked at Nutflix, this is the first time I’ve ever personally taken a flight for a single piece of content."
The atmosphere in the lounge changed.
As Yang Dong-seok opened his briefcase, he said, "You must be busy, so shall we get to the point?"
"Yes. Please go ahead."
Now the real contest began.
Yang Dong-seok spread the documents out on the table.
At the same moment, Greek Peters spoke first.
"Before we begin, I’d like to make one thing perfectly clear."
Greek Peters looked straight at Si-woo.
"Singing Bird was made by Nutflix. But this work began with Mr. Kim Si-woo."
He paused for a moment, then added, "There are other platforms besides Nutflix. But there is only one Kim Si-woo. I know that very well, which is why I came here in person."
It was not just flattery.
It was the statement of Nutflix’s co-CEO, made in person after crossing the Pacific.
There was weight in every word.