Masterpiece (4)
The animated film Natdaljib had finally opened in theaters. It was showing nationwide now, and Kang Jaeha was in a screening room for the early-morning showing.
Natdaljib was already in its final stretch.
“......”
Jaeha had long since finished the popcorn he’d bought on the way in, and he was fixed on the screen with unusual focus. The audience around him, gathered in decent numbers, was the same.
At last.
The ending theme flowed through the whole theater, and the animated film Natdaljib came to a close. A few lines in the end credits caught Jaeha’s eye.
Investment: MEG
The name of the investment company had appeared in both the opening and the closing credits. The audience might not have felt much for MEG, but Jaeha, with a faint smile on his face, felt a strange thrill run through him.
Not bad.
He’d seen MEG listed as an investor at the Busan International Film Festival too, but seeing it here in the official release of Natdaljib felt different. Either way, Jaeha looked at the screen as the end credits rolled and applauded inwardly.
The characters came out well, the quality’s top-notch, and it’s entertaining as hell too.
Then director Hong Manseop’s thick-browed face floated through his mind.
As expected, he’s on a different level.
Jaeha’s impression of Natdaljib was unmistakably that it was excellent. The fun, the tension, the quality, the music, the story, everything. Nothing felt lacking. It might have been a little like his arm bending inward, but it wasn’t only because he’d invested in it.
The reactions of the people filing out of the theater were proof enough.
“Oppa, how was it?”
“An absolute masterpiece. I didn’t expect much, but it was insane.”
“Right?! I was completely sucked in!”
“For a movie with this kind of quality, it was way more fun than the latest Japanese animated film I saw.”
“Seriously?? Wait, oppa, who did you see that Japanese animated film with?”
“...Huh?”
Their reactions were no different from Jaeha’s. Quite a few people were praising Natdaljib to the skies.
“What even was that? Why was it so fun?”
“Exactly.”
“Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much, but I had a hell of a good time.”
“Same. They didn’t half-ass the 3D or anything; they leaned all the way into a Korean flavor, and it hit hard.”
“That gagok-like music near the end, when the lead went wild? I almost lost it.”
“I just went because it was a morning showing to kill time, but this was a straight-up masterpiece.”
“Korean animation’s gotten good, huh? Seems like they’ve really pulled the tech up.”
Listening to the passing comments, Jaeha answered silently in his head.
The tech was always good. Money just wasn’t flowing.
In any case, the audience response was overwhelmingly favorable, and once he reached the theater lobby, Jaeha stepped into the elevator. Then he recalled the déjà vu connected to Natdaljib.
For now, the déjà vu says over three million viewers. And I got rid of the troublesome Chinese capital too.
Natdaljib had Chinese capital behind it. In other words, it had still been expected to post industry-first numbers even after force-feeding Chinese characters into the story. But Jaeha had already cleared that capital away, and now Natdaljib had no obstacles left in its way.
When Jaeha stepped out of the elevator, he let out a small laugh and muttered, “Now that’s a result I can look forward to.”
Meanwhile.
Director Yu Giltae sat alone in a conference room, his expression grave. The reason was the representative from MEG, Lee Chanhoo, who had just finished speaking with him and left.
“Hoo...”
Letting out a small sigh, Yu Giltae replayed the conversation with Lee Chanhoo in his head. It had begun at the point where Chanhoo had asked to be included in the investment.
When he heard the proposal, Yu Giltae couldn’t help but be shocked.
“You want me to... make room for you in the investment?”
His expression grew even more serious after hearing the condition Chanhoo had put forward.
“So let me get this straight. You want to come in as an investor in exchange for telling me about something that could ruin my new film?”
At the question, Lee Chanhoo gave a faint smile and nodded.
“That’s right. All you need to do is let me invest in your new film, The Murder of the Mask. That’s my condition.”
“......”
After looking at Chanhoo for a moment, Yu Giltae muttered inwardly.
He already knows the title of my film.
It wasn’t exactly a secret, but Yu Giltae’s upcoming film, The Murder of the Mask, hadn’t been publicly announced yet. So only a small number of people knew the title. And yet the man sitting across from him, from MEG, already knew it.
Yu Giltae felt that the investment company called MEG was no ordinary outfit.
They’re well informed. They may even know some of the internal details.
Even as he let out a low sound, Lee Chanhoo was measuring Yu Giltae in return.
Did he flinch? Good. He needs to. Chairman said a decent amount of shock would work better. Anyway, move straight ahead first.
Lee Chanhoo looked at Yu Giltae and went on.
“Hmm. Director Yu Giltae, you’re a master in the film world, so you’ve probably already had investment offers pouring in. You’d be the one choosing among them. I’m sure the investment slots are already spoken for.”
“......”
“But they may be chosen already without contracts being signed yet, at least not by now. Not quite yet, anyway. I’m saying you should make room for MEG in one of those full investor slots. If my information interests you.”
In other words, whether it was a set decision or just a shortlist, he wanted MEG inserted into a full house of investors. That was the move Kang Jaeha was aiming for: bringing Yoon Dayeon in and slipping MEG into the arrangement as well.
For a film by someone of Yu Giltae’s stature, it was usually hard to get in as an investor.
Everyone rushed in with money.
Especially a new investment company like MEG, which had almost no chance of entering a master director’s carefully built board. But the story changed if that master director ended up owing them a favor.
Yu Giltae gave a short nod.
“Fine. If the information you give me is top-tier, I’ll honor that condition. I promise.”
Until then, Yu Giltae had thought whatever Lee Chanhoo was going to tell him probably wouldn’t be that serious. That was what he believed. At most, it was a cautious backup plan.
But the moment he heard Chanhoo’s next words.
“Your upcoming film, The Murder of the Mask. I’ve confirmed the lead casting is already done, and you picked Woo Jeongcheol among the actors, right?”
“......”
“Good choice. He’s a top actor. But there’s a problem with him.”
“...A problem?”
“Yes. Drugs.”
“!!!”
Yu Giltae’s face twisted.
“Wh-what did you say? Drugs?!”
“You’re loud.”
“Ah.”
“It’s only natural you’d be thrown off. What do you think? Woo Jeongcheol’s drug issue. Isn’t that more than enough to ruin your new film?”
Ruin it? No, it was worse than that. It was close to blowing the whole thing sky-high. An actor cast as the lead has a drug scandal break out during filming, or after release? Just imagining it made Yu Giltae feel sick.
If it happened during filming, there would be the immense loss of scrapping that actor’s scenes, recasting, and the time and money burned in the process.
And if the movie had already been released, the situation would spiral into something even worse.
If it happened during the theatrical run, the work would have to be pulled immediately, and from that moment on distribution would be shut down across the board. The losses would be several times worse than if it had happened during production. Naturally, the staff and actors involved would be hurt too.
On top of that, Yu Giltae’s own filmography would take a serious hit.
As Yu Giltae’s mind tangled itself up, Lee Chanhoo spoke again.
“If I hadn’t told you, it would’ve likely blown up during filming or after release. I’m giving you a heads-up because I care about your work.”
“...Are you sure?”
“Don’t believe me? That’s fine. But Woo Jeongcheol’s drug issue will definitely break soon enough. It’s only a matter of time.”
“......”
“And I wouldn’t recommend asking Woo Jeongcheol about it directly or telling the people around him. It’s easier to avoid shit than to wipe it off.”
Keeping his faint smile, Lee Chanhoo never lost his ease.
“Woo Jeongcheol’s contract should already be done, so for now, it’d be better to leave him alone without pushing anything further. If you had an announced promotion schedule planned, stop it.”
“W-wait a moment.”
“That’s all the information I’m giving you. Whether you use it or not is your choice, Director. If you do use it, you’ll need to honor the condition I mentioned. And if you don’t and decide to carry Woo Jeongcheol along anyway...”
Lee Chanhoo trailed off briefly before rising from his seat.
“Then MEG will step away from investing in your film.”
That was where it ended.
Back in reality, Yu Giltae sat alone in the conference room again, muttering inwardly.
...Woo Jeongcheol, on drugs?
He wasn’t even a supporting actor. He was one of the leads. And his contract as a lead had already been signed. But now Chanhoo was saying a drug scandal was coming. Of course, the Lee Chanhoo he’d just seen hadn’t produced any evidence.
Just words.
But Yu Giltae couldn’t dismiss them lightly.
“This is insane.”
The world he worked in was the entertainment industry, a jungle, and in a jungle like that, smoke never rose without fire. Drug scandals had been breaking out with some regularity too. In a sense, drug issues were a chronic disease of the entertainment industry, and only recently a female actress had run into trouble over one.
So it couldn’t help but bother him.
On top of that, Lee Chanhoo, the man from MEG, was no ordinary presence. MEG had made a name for itself at this Busan International Film Festival. The condition that they be allowed to invest also felt sincere.
Why would a company like MEG pull a prank like this?
And beyond that...
It feels like Lee Chanhoo is the one handling Woo Jeongcheol’s drug issue.
Maybe the evidence was in his hands. In other words, maybe he was the one deciding when the bomb went off.
Giving me a chance before he sets off the explosion.
He couldn’t be sure, but Yu Giltae eventually made his decision.
“...Right. There’s no harm in being careful.”
For now, he’d take the information Lee Chanhoo had given him. He wasn’t about to believe it one hundred percent. Just enough to stay on guard. That was how easily a tiny rumor could snowball in the film world, and that wave would directly affect a movie’s performance.
Soon after, Yu Giltae picked up his phone to make a call. The person on the other end was the head of the film company working with him on the new film, The Murder of the Mask.
“Yeah, it’s me. Let’s put a hold on the confirmed actor articles we were going to start circulating tomorrow. Clamp down so nothing leaks out about the casting.”
He stopped quite a few things.
“For now, just act like nothing’s been decided at all on the actor side. That’s our position.”
Then, at night, Kang Jaeha stepped into the MEG office. Waiting for him were all of his subordinates: Lee Chanhoo, Ha Yeonji, Go Chunseok, and Cha Chunghyun. Having spent their day in their own ways, they began reporting to their commander.
Lee Chanhoo started.
“Met with Director Yu Giltae. He nearly fell over from shock.”
Chanhoo gave a careful briefing on his conversation with Yu Giltae. Jaeha nodded, looking satisfied that the setup had worked as planned, and let out a small laugh.
“A drug scandal involving an actor cast as a lead. For a director, that’s enough to make his skin crawl.”
“Yu Giltae will probably make his own moves.”
“Probably? He’ll move one hundred percent. A director’s got more than his own neck on the line. He’s got the necks of a hundred people, staff included.”
“In a field where even small noise can make things wobble, a drug case is something you can’t ignore.”
Jaeha, legs crossed, muttered softly.
“Now we’ve tossed the burden onto a master director.”
He turned his eyes to Ha Yeonji, who was waiting her turn.
“It’d be a waste to let an exclusive like that go, right? Yeonji, package it well and set it off. I’ll tell you the timing.”
“Oh? Of course. I was already plating it nicely anyway. Just hit the button and I can fire immediately.”
“Since the exclusive is this big, even if we just toss out the bait, everything else will move on its own. Public opinion, the police, all of it.”
Jaeha also handed Go Chunseok an assignment.
“That club Woo Jeongcheol went to. Keep watch on it separately for about a week.”
“Understood, Commander.”
Once the drug issue broke, the police would surely start digging through that club first. Then the household fixer, Cha Chunghyun, reported the numbers he’d organized back to Jaeha, from taxes to the stock plays Jaeha had recently tossed his way.
On top of that.
“Uh, the financial status check on the three entertainment companies you mentioned is done too. Here.”
The capital situation of the entertainment companies that would become MEG subsidiaries was also handed over to Jaeha. As he studied the materials closely, he murmured, “Set up meetings with each of them as fast as you can.”
The next day, a meeting was held with one of the entertainment companies Jaeha had selected for acquisition. The first was Lumia Entertainment, before LX Entertainment and ZER Entertainment.
Lumia Entertainment’s office was in Bundang.
Jaeha wore thick-rimmed glasses and a mask, and the subordinates he brought were Lee Chanhoo and Go Chunseok. Chanhoo led the conversation for the most part. Naturally, Jaeha had already told him in advance which lines he needed to hit.
Lumia Entertainment, the first company they met, was in much worse shape on site than the investigation had suggested.
So the representative changed too, huh.
They were one step away from collapse. The Lumia side saw MEG as a kind of last hope and threw themselves into the meeting with desperate energy, but after it was over, Jaeha shook his head.
“Out.”
“Why? They were practically burning their eyes out trying to cling to us.”
“The new representative isn’t capable. Their debt got worse after he took over.”
For one reason and another, Jaeha erased Lumia Entertainment from the list of companies to acquire. That was fine. There were plenty of entertainment companies in Korea.
And that night, Cha Chunghyun stared at his phone and flinched.
“Holy shit. It really did blow up??!”
The stock Jaeha had pointed him toward on the American market had started to surge sharply. What the hell was this? Cha Chunghyun found himself once again feeling the full weight of Jaeha’s authority.
“As expected... he’s the commander? How the hell do you pull off magic like this?”
He jumped up in the middle of trying to sleep and started punching numbers in his head. If he wanted to minimize taxes as much as possible, he’d have to earn praise from the commander.
“Gotta get a bonus.”
That was how MEG’s money, Jaeha’s money, began to swell rapidly. In truth, Jaeha had already received his sixth seven-hundred-million-won pension payout. Then came the release of Natdaljib. Now that Cha Chunghyun had joined them, his funds would only grow more steadily.
Two days passed like that.
On the 31st, in the afternoon, Ha Yeonji was spotted working late at the major news outlet Prime Patch rather than at MEG. Her hair was rolled up with a pair of wooden chopsticks, and her face looked thoroughly exhausted. Her phone rang while she was grinding through overtime as a reporter.
Buzz.
A short vibration. A text message. The sender was Commander Kang Jaeha. The content was concise.
Drop it now. Woo Jeongcheol.
Ha Yeonji grinned, then muttered softly, “Yes, yes, commander.”
Before long, the sound of clicking keys spread through the otherwise empty office. It was the sound of her prepped article going out into the world.
Soon, the world received a scorching fresh exclusive.
[Exclusive] Top Actor Woo Jeongcheol’s Life Soaked in Drugs... For Him, the Club Was a Place for Getting High, Not Dancing / Prime Patch, Reporter Ha Yeonji
It was a disaster-level scoop that would send the entertainment industry into chaos.