Expansion (4)
Lee Chanhoo’s voice over the phone was full of confidence.
“We’d like to invest in your Condensation, Director.”
A few strands of information tangled together in that one line: MEG, the short film Condensation, and Director Kwon Seongmin. The man sitting on a construction site, half out of his mind and chewing on a convenience-store kimbap until just moments ago, was probably the one who had written it.
“...Excuse me?? Uh, y-yes??”
He seemed to be Kwon Seongmin, the director who had written Condensation. As far as Kang Jaeha had gathered, he was twenty-five, young for a director, from a provincial university, and with nothing especially notable on his filmography.
Kwon Seongmin wondered if he had misheard.
Invest? What?
What on earth was happening all of a sudden? Without realizing it, he let the half-eaten convenience-store kimbap in his left hand slip and drop. Why wouldn’t he? Before he had answered the call, he had been staring at Leon Entertainment’s contest results. Condensation had lost. Not even a comment. It hadn’t even been mentioned.
Kwon Seongmin had sunk into a deep frustration.
He had been on the verge of giving up.
And then this man named Lee Chanhoo had suddenly called and said he wanted to invest in Condensation. With his mouth hanging slightly open, Kwon Seongmin pressed the phone to his ear.
He pinched his own cheek in silence. Hard. It hurt. Which meant this was real. Pushing up the glasses that had slipped down his nose, he grew visibly excited.
“I-Inv-invest??!”
On the other end, the man on the phone, Lee Chanhoo, let a trace of laughter into his voice.
“Yes, an investment. That’s what I said. It’s a little sudden, I know.”
“...A little? It’s a lot.”
“Yes, I understand. Um, I was thinking it might be better to discuss the details in person.”
“Huh? Ah! Yes, yes! In person!”
Answering in a panic, Kwon Seongmin didn’t even think to ask how this had come about before his mind started racing. When would be the best time? He was in the middle of construction work today, so that was out. He had planned to come back to the site tomorrow too, but now the situation had changed.
“Tomorrow! Tomorrow is fine anytime!”
“Tomorrow sounds good. Then let’s meet in the morning.”
“Morning! Yes! Understood!”
“I’ll send you the time and place by text. Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Director.”
“Yes! Thank you!”
Click.
The call ended, but Kwon Seongmin still didn’t lower the phone from his ear. His eyes remained wide. The dropped kimbap was gathering dust by the second, but in his head there was only a whirlpool of two words: Condensation and investment.
“W-What... what is happening?”
Kwon Seongmin still couldn’t believe this was real.
The next day, Tuesday morning.
The meeting place was a fairly large two-story cafe near Yangjae Station. Because it was morning, the place was quiet, and by the window on the second floor sat a familiar face with glasses.
It was Kwon Seongmin.
“Hah—hoo...”
He kept taking deep breaths, apparently trying to steady himself. Unlike yesterday, when he had been sweating at the construction site, he looked fairly neat today. He pushed his glasses back up and, feeling a little warm, took off the padded jacket he was wearing and draped it over the chair beside him.
I came too early. Damn it, I’m nervous.
He was struggling to calm his pounding heart. That wasn’t strange. He was about to meet an “investor” for the first time in his life. To be honest, he had imagined this sort of thing often enough, but now that it was happening in reality, every minute and every second felt dreamlike.
Maybe it really was a dream.
This is insane. I’m basically a nobody worse than an extra, and now I’ve got an investor?
He hadn’t made his debut as a director, hadn’t graduated from a prestigious university as a filmmaker, didn’t have some solid family connection or local network, hadn’t won a contest because of his name, and he wasn’t rich or from a great family either.
And Condensation wasn’t even a feature film. It was a short.
It was normal for no one, for absolutely no one, to care. At least, that was how Kwon Seongmin saw it. Even while he was sitting there, he was still full of question marks, and he took the Condensation script he had brought just in case out of his backpack.
“...”
Looking down at the script he had written for a while, Kwon Seongmin made himself a promise. Right, even if things didn’t go well, don’t be disappointed. No, don’t even build up any expectations in the first place. Just meeting an investor is already a huge experience.
He kept reassuring himself.
But the trembling in his chest didn’t ease easily, and when about twenty minutes had passed...
“Director Kwon Seongmin?”
Someone called to him while he was still deep in mental self-control. Startled, Kwon Seongmin shot up on reflex and turned his head. Beside him stood a man in a black coat, with short hair and narrow eyes, wearing a faint smile.
The man extended his hand.
“You look a lot more harmless in person than I expected. Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Chanhoo, the one who called you.”
It was Kang Jaeha’s number one subordinate, Lee Chanhoo.
“Ah! Yes! Hello!”
“Haha, you really were nervous, huh? Want to get a glass of cold water first?”
“I-I’m fine!”
“This isn’t the military. Relax a little. Let’s talk comfortably.”
After they shook hands, Lee Chanhoo gestured for Kwon Seongmin to sit before taking the seat across from him. Kwon Seongmin, following his lead, awkwardly lowered himself onto the chair. At the same time, Lee Chanhoo handed over a business card, as if he’d produced it from nowhere.
MEG
CEO Lee Chanhoo
It was the first business card Kwon Seongmin had ever received, and he had no idea what to do with it, so he simply shoved it into his pocket.
“Thank you!”
“Not at all. It’s just a business card.”
Kwon Seongmin stole a glance across the table at Lee Chanhoo. How should he put it? Effortless, perhaps? Unfazed? He also seemed very good at reading the room. There had been classmates like that at Kwon Seongmin’s university too.
They came from good families, always had that feeling that nothing in life could really shake them.
As Kwon Seongmin recalled an old classmate, Lee Chanhoo crossed one leg over the other and spoke.
“I mentioned it over the phone yesterday, but should I give you a quick introduction first? I’m Lee Chanhoo from MEG.”
“Ah! I’m Kwon Seongmin!”
“Yes, I know. To get straight to the point, we’re thinking of investing in your Condensation.”
“!!!”
He had already heard it once, but hearing it face-to-face made the shock hit twice as hard. By contrast, Lee Chanhoo kept smiling.
“Do you have any questions?”
The questions Kwon Seongmin had prepared in advance came out of him with difficulty.
“W-Where did you see my Condensation?”
Lee Chanhoo answered immediately.
“I have someone I know at Leon Entertainment. You entered the contest this time, right?”
“Ah!”
“Because of that, I heard a few things here and there and ended up reading Condensation. I apologize if that bothered you.”
“Huh? No! I’m not bothered at all! It’s just... kind of amazing...”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It’s the first time anything like this has happened to me.”
“Then you don’t need to look quite so wilted.”
Lee Chanhoo pointed with his index finger at the Condensation script lying in front of Kwon Seongmin.
“The moment I read Condensation, I knew it had something. It’s exactly the kind of work that should be MEG’s first investment.”
First investment? Kwon Seongmin recovered a little of his composure. Come to think of it, he had never heard of a company called MEG. When he had searched for it, nothing had come up either.
“F-First investment?”
“Yes. MEG is just getting started as an investment company.”
“Ah...”
For a moment, a faint unease brushed through Kwon Seongmin’s mind. That was something that often happened to people with little real-world experience: a sense of, Can I really trust this? Fear naturally followed when he had never once stepped into a place like this before.
“...”
And with it came a memory of a scam story he had once heard from a senior at university. Sensing it, or perhaps just guessing, Lee Chanhoo tilted his head slightly and asked,
“You were just thinking, ‘Isn’t this a scam?’ weren’t you?”
“Y-Yes. Huh? Yes?? Ah! N-no, that’s not—!”
“It is, though.”
“...Sorry. I only imagined something like this; I never thought something like this would actually happen—”
“I understand. You should tap the stepping stone a few times before crossing it.”
Lee Chanhoo’s voice still carried a smile, but then a thread of coldness slipped into it.
“But honestly, what would I even gain by ripping off a short film?”
“Ah.”
“And it’s MEG paying the money.”
This wasn’t really persuasion. It was closer to a warning. Lee Chanhoo liked caution, but what he meant was that there was no reason to worry; to Kwon Seongmin, it sounded more like a command not to get in the way.
At the same time, while Lee Chanhoo watched Kwon Seongmin intently, he thought of Kang Jaeha.
He’s young. The type who’d die the second he stepped onto a battlefield. So why did the commander take an interest in him? Well, that man’s motives were always hard to read anyway.
After a rough calculation, he came to a conclusion.
I just do what I’m told. The work’s good, too. There’s some fun in raising a guy like this.
Quietly muttering to himself, Lee Chanhoo spoke again to Kwon Seongmin across the table.
“Shake off the nerves. What do you think, Director? Do you want the investment? Of course, this is your choice.”
Was there any idiot director who’d turn down investment at this point? Kwon Seongmin swallowed hard, then stiffened his eyes.
“I want it.”
“Good. That’s the kind of spirit I like to see. Haha. All right, then. MEG will invest in Condensation. From what I saw in the script, the investment amount looks like it should be around fifty million won. How does that sound?”
Fifty million won?! Kwon Seongmin was shocked inwardly.
“I-I’d be grateful for ten million won.”
“Fine by me. We’ll set the cap at fifty million. Figure out a clear production budget as quickly as you can. Hmm. You’ll need a production company too.”
“Yes, understood!”
“There are plenty of production companies out there, and once the money issue is settled for a short film, it isn’t hard to find one. Just in case, I brought a list of decent short-film production companies. Take a look.”
Kwon Seongmin expressed his gratitude with force and immediately started leafing through the transparent file.
I don’t care. Stop worrying. I can’t let this guy slip away. I need to move as fast as possible.
At that moment, Lee Chanhoo changed the angle of his crossed legs and asked something else.
“But Leon Entertainment’s contest ended in failure too. Where do you see Condensation going from here?”
“...”
After a moment’s silence, Kwon Seongmin lifted his head. Then he named the stage he had been staring at for so long, the one every unknown director dreamed of.
“...I think I’ll try for the Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival.”
The Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival was the only short-film festival in Korea, and famous enough to serve as a gateway for unknown directors.
The moment he heard that answer, Lee Chanhoo gave a casual thumbs-up.
“Not bad.”
But he didn’t stop there. He offered a different direction too.
“The Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival is good, sure, but Director, why don’t we play a little bigger?”
“Huh? Bigger?”
“Yeah. How about the Busan International Film Festival?”
The Busan International Film Festival was, without exaggeration, the biggest and most prestigious film festival in Asia. Domestically, it was top-tier; in Asia, it stood near the top; and globally, it had real recognition. It wasn’t even comparable to the Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival. In the first place, the scale was different from local to international.
As a result, Director Kwon Seongmin’s eyes widened as if they were about to burst. It felt like he had been struck over the head with a hammer.
“What?! B-Busan International Film Festival?!”
The playing field had suddenly become absurdly huge.
Several dozen minutes later, in Leon Entertainment.
Inside the isolated island that was Management Team 4, Kang Jaeha was looking at his laptop with a yawn. Resting his chin in his hand, he looked every bit the idler.
Sigh. I’m getting sleepy. At this rate, I could take on a few more people on top of Yoon Dayeon and An Jihee without any problem.
They were all failed, washed-up celebrities anyway, so there was no need to stay busy. Managing several of them didn’t seem bad. In fact, Management Team 4 had fewer people than the other management teams, and even a section chief-level manager like Kim Daeyong had long since been handling multiple people. He was patching holes in other teams and also taking on one more besides Yoon Dayeon.
In Team 4, even the employees were little more than supporting cast.
To a lazy manager, Team 4 might have looked like paradise, but to Jaeha, who had spent eighteen years on battlefields, it was itchy beyond belief.
Things will get busy sooner or later. I’ll make sure of that.
Thinking of Yoon Dayeon and An Jihee, Kang Jaeha opened one of the files on his laptop. It contained the various washed-up people assigned to Team 4. No, the celebrities. As Jaeha was going through them one by one,
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
His phone vibrated for a long time. A call. Looking at the caller ID, he saw it was his number one subordinate, Lee Chanhoo.
He said he was going to meet the Condensation director this morning. Looks like he’s done.
This was work being done behind the company’s back, so of course Jaeha stepped quietly out into the hallway to answer.
“Yeah.”
Even with Jaeha’s low voice, Lee Chanhoo on the other end replied at once, as if it were no big deal.
“Commander, I met Director Kwon Seongmin of Condensation. He says he’s going to try for the Busan International Film Festival.”
The corner of Jaeha’s mouth lifted, but he received the news with complete calm.
“Good.”
Why no big reaction? Simple.
“But is that really okay? The Busan International Film Festival all of a sudden? I was surprised, but Director Kwon Seongmin looked like his eyeballs were about to pop out.”
The Busan International Film Festival had been Jaeha’s instruction. MEG would gradually expand its investment territory, and when it did, it would make serious money. With Déjà vu, there would be no failed investments. MEG was Kang Jaeha’s wallet, or rather, a means to grow his pension.
But MEG also needed to build recognition, and name value.
Condensation, which would hit big somewhere down the line.
In other words, the Busan International Film Festival was part of Jaeha’s design, or rather, the flow he had already set in motion.
A giant hit is better than just a hit.
Meanwhile, at the same time.
The place was the main conference room on the top floor of Leon Entertainment. Inside, the section chiefs and directors were gathered around a U-shaped table. It looked like they were in the middle of an executive-level meeting.
At the center of everyone’s gaze sat CEO Han Taeseong.
He had hung his suit jacket over the back of his chair and was wearing only his dress shirt, but his solid build gave him an intense presence.
Then.
“CEO.”
One of the directors spoke up. He was a man with a slightly long chin and thick eyebrows, and his gaze was full of appetite and greed. For money, or whatever else, it didn’t matter.
“As I already reported, the Short Story Contest supervised by the New Business Team has wrapped up smoothly.”
The director bringing up the recently concluded contest was none other than Kim Cheoljung, the New Business Team director whom Kang Jaeha had taken an interest in as the man taking bribes, and whose back Lee Chanhoo was quietly shadowing.
“I’ve already finished discussions with the directors who placed first, second, and third in the short-film competition. Once the investment funds are distributed, all three works will move into production.”
Han Taeseong, slowly crossing one leg over the other, smiled faintly.
“Good work, Director Kim.”
“Not at all! This is just the beginning, so I’ll push harder.”
“So, after producing three works, where do you plan to throw them?”
Han Taeseong’s eyes seemed to say, The money’s being invested, so the final result had better be good, don’t you think? Kim Cheoljung already seemed to have a destination in mind.
“If we’re doing it, it makes sense to aim for the biggest stage.”
He put real force into his voice.
“I’m looking at the Busan International Film Festival. What do you think?”
The sheer size of the target caused several directors to murmur among themselves. Han Taeseong’s mouth curved slightly, unaffected.
“Right. It should be that size.”