Inside the meeting room, four people sat quietly, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound cutting through the momentary stillness.
Christopher Nolan sat across from Jihoon, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp with curiosity.
The two men—separated by age, background, and aesthetic—seemed to understand one another without needing much explanation.
There was a kind of mutual respect hanging in the air, something unspoken but deeply felt.
Nolan leaned forward slightly, his voice calm and thoughtful.
"I have to say, when I watched your film," he began, "I could feel a kindred vision… something I've only seen in a few directors. Our styles differ, especially in how we handle light—but the essence, the intention? It's there."
Jihoon chuckled softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Yeah, I felt that too. It's like we're looking at the same picture, just through different lenses."
Nolan nodded appreciatively. "Your storytelling approach—it's more vivid than mine."
"Almost tactile. You don't just guide the audience; you pull them into the scene."
"It's a reinterpretation of visual language, and honestly… I respect that."
That earned a more bashful grin from Jihoon, who scratched the side of his neck, clearly flattered.
"Coming from someone like you? I'm honored, really. Thank you, Nolan."
Nolan leaned back slightly, relaxing more into the chair.
"When I heard you were in town prepping your next film, I had to come see for myself what you're cooking up."
Jihoon looked surprised. "Oh, wow—I didn't know. Aren't you still working on the sequel to The Dark Knight?"
"Yeah, still in the thick of it," Nolan replied with a light smile. "But this visit isn't just about that. I'm actually here because of him."
He paused, then turned slightly and gestured to the man sitting to his right.
"Let me introduce you—my good friend, Oren Peli. A fellow filmmaker… well, a wannabe filmmaker, as he likes to call himself that now."
The man Nolan pointed to looked nothing like the stereotypical Hollywood creative.
He had the air of a tech startup guy—slightly disheveled, thick-rimmed glasses, a polo shirt that had clearly seen a few years, and the kind of nervous smile that suggested he was more comfortable behind a computer screen than in a boardroom.
He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and gave Jihoon a small nod.
"Hey… it's nice to meet you," he mumbled.
Jihoon, however, immediately recognized the name. His eyes widened slightly—he knew exactly who this was.
Jihoon's eyes lit up in an instant. That name. That voice. That face.
The memory hit him like a flashback. Paranormal Activity. The legendary low-budget horror film that redefined the genre—and box office margins.
Jihoon look at him and smile and politely nod back and say, "Hi Peli, nice to meet you."
Nolan let the brief introduction land before clearing his throat.
"Actually," he said, folding his hands in front of him, "the reason we're here today... is because we're seeking an investment."
Jihoon blinked. His brow furrowed. "Wait, what do you mean, Nolan?" he asked, a bit too quickly, a bit too surprised.
"Aren't you partnered with Warner Bros for The Dark Knight series? Why would you be seeking investment from Fox?"
Nolan let out a small chuckle, raising a hand gently as if to say slow down. "No rush, Jihoon. I wasn't finished yet."
He gave a look to Peli—a subtle but encouraging nod.
Peli took a breath, visibly steeling himself, and slowly stood up.
There was still that introverted aura around him, like someone who was used to working in shadows rather than spotlights.
But there was something determined in his eyes too.
"It's not Nolan who's seeking the investment," Peli said, voice calm but quiet. "It's me."
For a second, the room fell silent.
Jihoon looked at him in surprise.
Jim Gianopulos, seated across from them, raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this turn.
He looked toward Nolan, trying to gauge if this was some kind of prank.
But Nolan was calm, serious.
Jihoon, on the other hand, wasn't just surprised. He was stunned. Peli… Peli… the name echoed in his head. Wait. Could it be? It clicked.
Of course. Oren Peli. The man behind Paranormal Activity.
In Jihoon's past life, that little indie horror film made on a shoestring budget of $15,000 had gone on to gross nearly $200 million. It had changed the rules of horror.
It was lightning in a bottle.
He felt a tingle run up his spine.
But… why would someone like him need investment?
If Jihoon remembered correctly, even without foreknowledge of future success, the budget was minimal.
Barely more than pocket change in Hollywood terms.
With that kind of cost, he could've self-funded. Or taken a personal loan. Even maxing out a few credit cards would've done the trick.
So why was they are here—at Fox, of all places—asking for money?
And more importantly… why was he involved in this at all?
It didn't add up. Not on paper. Not in any version of the industry flowchart that someone with a clear head would ever draw.
Sure, Jihoon had made a name for himself. His projects were sharp, his instincts lauded, and his name carried weight now, especially in creative circles.
But let's be honest—his realm was content creation.
Storytelling. Direction. Producing indie gems that turned heads.
He wasn't a distributor.
He didn't control theatrical rollouts, marketing pipelines, or the behind-the-scenes machinery of ticket sales.
That was someone else's arena—executives, studio veterans, suits who spoke in terms of territories and Q4 projections.
So why was he sitting in this room now, listening to Peli and Nolan pitch to Fox about money?
A sliver of suspicion crept into his thoughts.
Nolan noticed the look immediately.
"I know what you're thinking," Nolan said with a knowing smirk.
"Trust me, we tried Warner first. It made sense—they've been my home base for years. But they didn't bite. They weren't interested."
His gaze flickered briefly toward Peli, whose eyes briefly reflected disappointment before he quickly looked away.
"I don't have voting power there," Nolan added. "I may direct big films, but studio decisions—especially for unknowns—are out of my hands."
"So I thought I'd use my relationship with Jim here at Fox to try a different route."
Jim leaned back slightly in his chair, arms crossing. "No wonder," he said thoughtfully. "When I got your call, I thought you were looking to switch studios. Didn't expect you to be playing wingman for a friend."
Jihoon nodded, absorbing it all. Then he tilted his head and looked back at Nolan. "But still… with your influence, Nolan, couldn't you have helped him get some capital? You've got clout. A call or two could've done it, no?"
Peli, still standing, finally spoke again. "It's not the production cost," he said, shaking his head slightly.
"That's not the problem. I can manage that on my own. It's the distribution." His voice softened at the end, his disappointment showing through.
"Warner didn't think my film was worth their time."
Now it all made sense.
Jihoon's mind pieced it together like a puzzle. Of course. Capital wasn't the issue—distribution was.
Without a studio backing the release, the film would just sit on a hard drive somewhere, unseen.
And in Hollywood, there were only a few real contenders who could take a small film and blow it up nationwide. Fox. Warner.
Maybe Universal or Lionsgate—but those weren't Nolan's circles.
Jihoon glanced at Jim again. The man looked as sharp as ever, a calculating glint in his eye.
Jihoon knew people like him. Jim wasn't just listening—he was playing chess.
He probably understood the game from the moment Nolan stepped in.
This wasn't just about helping a friend.
It was about leverage.
Maybe Jim wanted to earn Nolan's favor. Or even tie him closer to Fox in the future. A small favor today, a big return tomorrow.
That's how the real adult world works. Jihoon had seen enough boardrooms and deals to recognize the layers.
Still, he smiled. This was getting interesting.
"Well," Jihoon said finally, turning to Peli with an encouraging grin. "Now that makes a lot more sense."
"So, tell us—what's this mysterious film about? You've already got Nolan vouching for you, and that alone is more than most first-time directors could ever dream of."
Peli's lips curled into a faint smile. He was nervous, yes—but Jihoon could see the spark.
That quiet, unwavering kind of confidence that only came from someone who truly believed in what they were creating.
And Jihoon? He already knew how this story would end.
The real question now was… would Fox see it too?
With that, Peli launched into his pitch.
For the next hour, Peli walked them through his concept—every beat, every intention, every scare. It was Paranormal Activity.
But even as the presentation wrapped, one question continued to gnaw at Jihoon.
Why was he here?
If this was just an investment pitch, surely Jim—sharp and seasoned as he was—would've known better than to involve someone like Jihoon in such a sensitive discussion.
Especially when it involved a project outside his own lane. Why not have him focus on 'Inception' instead, where his hands and name were already shaping the future?
Why invite him into this room, with this film, and this ask?
[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe, OS_PARCEIROS, Daoistadj, JiangXiu and Daoist098135 for bestowing the power stone!]