Following Chairman Lee Jeong-ho’s words, Jun-seong returned to his family’s home.
My parents were sad to see him go, but considering I’d still be seeing him more often than my own family at the office, I wasn’t really bothered.
Soon enough, Sang-hyeon would be discharged from the military, so it was time for Jun-seong to leave, I suppose.
“Is Jun-seong doing well?” my mother asked.
“It’s only been a day since he left, Mom.”
“Even so…”
“You’re not secretly treating him like your own son, are you?”
Because of a promise I made to Jun-seong—keeping the fact that he’s from the KMD family a secret—my parents were surprised when they heard he’d suddenly returned to his parents’ home.
“I wouldn’t mind having a son like him, he’s such a good kid.”
“I’m still your son, you know?”
“Tell him to come over now and then. I’ll cook for him.”
“I already see him all day at the office, so why would we need to hang out here too?”
Feigning jealousy, I made a playful pout. My mom laughed and smacked me lightly on the back.
“Oh, you grown man, acting all jealous.”
“You know how the older we get, the more we need affection, Mother.”
“Oh, enough, you rascal.”
My dad stood nearby, watching the scene with a fond expression.
“Dad, actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” I said.
“Yeah? What is it?”
“The theater.”
“Huh?”
He looked taken aback.
“These days, premium theaters are the trend. Agape Theater should keep up with the times, don’t you think?”
“Hmm… Might cost more than it’s worth, right? Renovating that place would be expensive… Even though I made a fair bit thanks to Night…”
He paused, as if working out figures in his head.
“That’s all right. I’ll chip in. We can replace the seats, the projector, the screen—let’s replace everything we can, similar to those multi-plex cinemas.”
“Hmm…”
My father doesn’t see movies purely as a way to make money. Even if competition with the multiplexes caused him losses, he still kept the projectors rolling for as long as he could, just so people could watch films—right up until the finances were nearly gone.
“Of course the money’s important, but I believe providing a great experience for moviegoers is part of what they pay for.”
“A great experience?”
“Yes. Like the comfortable seating you see in multiplexes, plus kiosks for popcorn and other concessions. We can give it a classy, department-store vibe.”
“And what about the indie filmmakers, the short-film directors? Little by little, they’ll lose the space to show their work. It takes a long time to recoup the costs for smaller films…”
Even now, he’s just like he was before my regression: passionate about preserving screens for short and indie films.
Back then, I’d thrown a fit, yelling,
“Why do you bother helping them, Dad?! Put the family first! Do those people even appreciate you? Are they helping us now? Not one of them!”
But things are different now. I’ve got plenty of money, and with Jun-seong around, KMD is backing me too.
“Yeah. I feel exactly the same, Dad. We need to protect short and indie films. It’s important for diversity.”
He looked at me, clearly proud.
“My kid’s all grown up, huh? Thinking about that sort of stuff now.”
“Come on, I majored in film, remember? I know at least that much.”
Maybe feeling both impressed and a bit self-conscious, Dad hooked an arm around my neck in a playful headlock.
“You little punk…”
“Ack! I surrender! Mercy!”
“You’re a young man, but you’ve got no strength!”
“I’m nearly thirty, y’know?”
“I’m over fifty, you brat!”
I started reaching out to construction companies, researching the costs of expanding and upgrading the theater. Everything needed replacing: seats, projector, screen… There was no shortage of ways to spend money.
One afternoon, I was at the office looking into all this. Meanwhile, Jun-seong was clacking away at his keyboard, busy with some other task.
“How’s life at home?” I asked.
“I can’t sleep well. Sang-hyeon’s room was so much nicer.”
“Seriously? That huge bedroom you have can’t compare?”
He shot me a glance, then pushed off with his feet, rolling his office chair right up to my desk in one move.
“How’s the theater prep?”
“…”
When I tried to handle it, I realized the costs were formidable: construction, seats, lighting, screen, projector. The prices were way beyond my comfort zone—enough to make me tremble if I had to pay out of pocket.
“Money’s the problem, huh?”
“…More than I expected.”
“You dummy, what do you know about cash? Did you think starting a theater business—something even major companies do—would be easy?”
“Well, no…”
“That’s why I had a word with someone. About investing in the theater business.”
“KMD?”
He tried to look cool, giving me a light smack on the back of my head.
“Ow!”
“Who else would it be? Why even ask?”
“But if KMD invests, won’t that keep us from showing short and indie films? Dad’s not going to accept that.”
His face grew serious.
“True. KMD is all about turning a profit, not warm-and-fuzzy ideals. So your dad insists on keeping the screen open for those smaller movies?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm… Tough. Anyway, my dad wants to see you. He said we should talk about the theater.”
“Gah… That’s great and all, but…”
“Use your brain, man. That’s what you’re good at—sweet-talking people.”
“All right, guess I’d better prep for another ‘interview’…”
“You alone, buddy. Not me.”
He kicked off again, rolling back to his desk.
“Come on, help me!”
“With what?”
“C’mon, we’re friends—help a guy out?”
“Sorry, man. You think I have three bodies? I’m swamped.”
“Then what’s the point of even having employees? Just help me come up with a plan.”
“Whatever. You already know what to say, so do it yourself. Why spin your wheels?”
“Dude, ever heard the saying, ‘A sheet of paper is lighter if two people lift it’?”
In the end, we both ended up brainstorming a plan to persuade Chairman Lee Jeong-ho. After hours of debate, we came up with something decent.
“Think it’ll work?”
“It’s the best we got. We don’t have a Plan B.”
“Ugh, that’s half a day gone. I’ve got so much to do. Probably won’t make it home tonight either.”
He groaned and stretched.
“How about a beer? I’m buying. Tonight, I’ll pay for everything—even if we go two, three rounds.”
“You just said you’re busy!”
“Crisp beer and fried chicken—can’t beat that. Guess I’ll head out by myself, then?”
Sighing, I started packing up. He shot me a pitiful look, then jumped to his feet.
“All right, screw it. I’ll let future me deal with work. Let’s go. I get to pick where we go after, right?”
“Suit yourself.”
A few days later, I went to the KMD HQ alone—Jun-seong was tied up with something else. Repeating my strategy in my head, I felt a bit nervous, but if I pulled this off, my family wouldn’t have to worry.
Again, a secretary waited in the lobby and escorted me to the chairman’s office. He disappeared, leaving me alone at the door.
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
Inside, Chairman Lee Jeong-ho sat behind a spacious desk.
“Have a seat.”
“Yes, sir!”
That same plush sofa embraced me just as comfortably as before. Even so, my nerves weren’t exactly soothed.
“So, from what I hear, you want me to invest in a theater?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“No need to be so formal. I owe your family a lot, so relax.”
He gave me a warm smile, his eyes telling me he found me dependable.
“We’re busy people, so let’s skip the small talk. Spare me the long-winded details.”
“Yes, sir.”
I opened the folder containing all my notes. I’d placed all the introductory stuff aside, deciding to get straight to the point.
“What I’d like to ask for is the ‘premium upgrade’ of Agape Theater.”
“So I’ve heard. But large corporations have been dabbling in theaters for a while, haven’t they? ‘Luxury cinemas’ or whatever.”
“Yes, but it’s still not too late. There are only three corporate-owned theater franchises, and they haven’t spread nationwide. If we invest now, we can outpace them.”
He didn’t seem particularly intrigued yet.
“Of course, it’ll be tough to make big profits right away, especially since Night is only just now hitting 2.5 million. Koreans are only beginning to get close to the idea of going to the cinema frequently.”
“They’re ‘closer’ to it?”
“Yes. People will start visiting theaters more and more, and within five years, we’ll see a film here that hits ten million admissions.”
“Five years? Isn’t that too soon?”
“Did anyone think 2.5 million was possible right now?”
“Hmm… True, but still…”
He propped an elbow on the desk and lit a cigarette, the flick of his Zippo echoing slightly.
“I asked around a bit. Some folks say a big corporation moving into film is bound to ‘pollute’ the market with capital. They say KMD shouldn’t do it.”
“I’ve got a plan to deal with those critics, too.”
I’d anticipated this question—this was today’s key point. I organized my thoughts quickly, discreetly wiped my sweaty hands on my trousers, then spoke.
“At Agape Theater, there’s a separate screen for independent and short films. I plan to use that as part of a unique structure—something that benefits the broader film scene.”
“So you’ll devote one screen to movies that few people want to see?”
“It’s a small sacrifice for a bigger gain. In the long run, it’ll give us bigger returns.”
“How?”
“Our public image.”
I saw his lips twitch into a smile. Was it working?
“What do you mean?”
“Films—whether feature-length or shorts—are an expensive art form. That means there aren’t many theaters willing to show them because they don’t bring in profit.”
“Sure. Big corporate theaters don’t bother with that stuff.”
“And KMD would be different. That’s what we’d show the world.”
He closed his eyes, silent.
“People will remember KMD’s entrance into the film industry as something focused on growing Korean cinema, not just making money.”
One day, the major chain CGB wouldn’t launch its indie screens until 2004, and that move ended up boosting their corporate image. I’m basically pitching the same thing but doing it now.
“A company that prioritizes growth of the film industry… That does sound appealing.”
“Yes. You’d have money and prestige both. It’s a golden opportunity.”
He burst out laughing, slapping me on the shoulder.
“Ha! Jun-seong told me this would happen.”
After mashing his cigarette into the ashtray, he stood up from behind his desk.
“You got me to invest in Night by playing on my fears of the IMF; now you’re appealing to my heartstrings by making me a ‘righteous businessman.’”
“Haha…”
He grinned, then continued.
“All right, let’s go have a look at Agape Theater. I’ll fund it—just do what you want with it.”
“Th… Thank you, sir!”
“Thank that kid. He’s been on about ‘Agape Theater’ all day, just like his mother.”
That rascal Jun-seong…
He’s a real pain, but God, I’m grateful.
Leave a Reply