Morning, February 2008 — Jihoon's Apartment, Seoul.
The pale winter light filtered through the curtains, but Jihoon hadn't slept a wink.
His desk, once neat and minimal, was now buried under stacks of papers—reports that Jaehyun hyung had dropped off the evening before.
Financial statements, strategic outlines, legal documents, and even hand-marked charts filled the surface like a battlefield of ink and worry.
Jihoon rubbed his temples, his tired eyes scanning yet another page, his mind running on nothing but caffeine and stress.
Most of the documents focused on the Mapo District land lease—arguably JH Corp's most critical deal at the moment.
According to Jaehyun's summary, the agreement with the local authorities had already been finalized.
The negotiations with the local authorities had been successful.
The land lease had been approved in principle, and the agreements were already signed.
But there was a catch.
The capital wasn't fully secured yet.
From the cash flow breakdown Jaehyun had compiled, they were still short—about 40% away from meeting the full payment.
That gap loomed large, especially with everything else on Jihoon's plate.
JH Corp had seen impressive growth over the past two years, but the reality was that most of its revenue still came from one reliable source: JH Pictures, their film production arm.
Thanks to Jihoon's creative vision and the studio's growing reputation, their films were drawing in both critical acclaim and solid box office returns.
The other branches of the company, however, were still finding their footing.
Take JH Digital Art, for example.
It functioned more like a support unit than an independent business.
To be fair, the current state of Korea's drama and film industry didn't offer much demand for the kind of high-end visual effects they specialized in.
Most of their potential clients would likely come from markets like China or Japan.
For now, they focused solely on Jihoon's own film projects, and hadn't begun taking on external work—leaving much of their revenue potential untapped.
Then there was Yogiyo, their ambitious food delivery venture.
The infrastructure was already in place.
Jaehyun and his team had spent years building relationships with local restaurant owners, setting up logistics networks, and mapping out delivery zones.
Everything was ready—except the app.
The technology just wasn't quite there yet.
Smartphones were expected to enter the Korean market later this year, and Jihoon was counting down the days.
He knew once the mobile boom began, things would move fast.
The industry would become a battlefield of capital. In this kind of tech-driven business, funding wasn't just important—it was the defining edge.
Whoever had deeper pockets could outpace their rivals by burning cash to grab market share early, absorbing losses in the short term for long-term dominance.
Jihoon understood this perfectly. That's why he didn't plan to grow slowly or wait around.
He was preparing for a blitzkrieg-style launch—a rapid, overwhelming rollout that would hit the market before competitors could even react.
While others were still drawing up business plans or seeking investors, Jihoon intended to already have the logistics running, the app live, and restaurant partnerships in place.
His goal wasn't just to enter the market—it was to own the first impression, dominate user mindshare, and make it nearly impossible for others to catch up.
By the time bigger players moved in with their larger budgets, it would be too late.
Funding would no longer be the only advantage.
Jihoon would already have control of the logistics, the tech, and the supply chain.
He had one big advantage: they were small enough to move fast, but smart enough to play big.
Of course, this required help.
That's where his partnership with Kakao came in.
He had met Brian Kim in Los Angeles the previous year, and the two had quickly connected over their shared interest in digital infrastructure and platform businesses.
Now, that connection was becoming a strategic alliance.
With Kakao's tech and user base, Naver's reach, and Yogiyo's infrastructure, Jihoon was setting up a digital triangle that could control the country's online advertising and order flow—just like Samseong, SK, and Lotte once carved up Korea's retail and manufacturing empires.
Meanwhile, over at JH Investment, something much bigger—and far riskier—was quietly taking shape.
Jihoon's trusted financial advisor, Jaehyun, had been tracking subtle shifts in the global markets.
He was convinced that the early tremors of a looming financial crisis were beginning to show—echoes of the 2008 crash Jihoon remembered all too well from his past life.
If their timing was right, and if they acted swiftly before the rest of the world caught on, there was a chance to turn chaos into opportunity.
While others would be scrambling to protect their assets, Jihoon and Jaehyun planned to move in the opposite direction—buying low, taking calculated risks, and positioning themselves ahead of the storm.
It was an audacious strategy, no doubt.
But Jihoon didn't hesitate to greenlight it.
He knew the kind of capital they could generate from a single, well-timed play might be enough to fund every vision he had for the company—tech expansion, film production, creative ventures, and more.
In his eyes, this wasn't just a gamble—it was the foundation of a future empire.
And then there was JH Real Estate, tied up in the massive Mapo development project.
They were in too deep to pull out now, but Jihoon still believed in the long-term value of the investment.
It could become their crown jewel—if they could hold on long enough to see it through.
JH Corp was expanding—and fast.
The vision behind it was bold, the ideas were innovative, and the foundation was solid.
But even so, Jihoon could feel the pressure mounting.
Growth was a double-edged sword: while they were gaining momentum, the pace was starting to outstrip their capacity.
The company was moving forward, yes—but dangerously close to stretching itself too thin.
After spending hours deep-diving into every report, every operational summary, and every projection, Jihoon leaned back in his chair with a heavy breath.
The situation wasn't yet critical—core operations were still stable—but if they continued at this speed without additional funding, their strategic goals would start to stall.
Everything they'd laid out—expanding their film division, pushing into tech, building infrastructure—it would take far too long without a financial boost.
In short, to move faster, they needed more fuel. Money.
Jihoon knew what that meant.
He turned his head slightly to the left, eyes landing on a neatly stacked pile of paper folders sitting on the edge of his desk.
His fingers tapped thoughtfully against the wood as he considered his next move.
Those folders weren't financial reports.
They were scripts.
Dozens of them.
Stories he had written during quiet nights—his personal archive of creative work.
All of them were registered and protected under the U.S. Copyright Office and the Writers Guild of America, a habit Jihoon had developed ever since his trip to Los Angeles the year before.
He wasn't just protecting his ideas—he was planting seeds.
Because Jihoon understood how Hollywood worked.
The industry didn't always follow clean rules or fair processes.
He believed the big studios—the so-called "Big Five" like Warner Bros, Disney, and Universal—had backdoor ways of accessing those copyright databases.
That's why he'd deliberately registered some of his best international scripts in the U.S. not just to claim authorship—but as bait.
A well-set trap for a very big fish.
And it was starting to work. Jim had been calling more frequently, showing growing interest—or rather, FOX's interest—in Jihoon's scripts. He had even begun asking for meetings.
Jihoon could sense the shift. The fish was circling.
It was time.
Not just to pitch a script, but to execute a broader plan.
A return to the States wasn't just about meetings or contracts.
It was about unlocking the next phase of JH's vision.
The scripts were only the beginning. Bigger moves were on the horizon—and Jihoon was ready to make them.
[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe, JiangXiu, BigBoobs and Daoistadj for bestowing the power stone!]