“I felt like you were being murdered inside that theater!” Doha exclaimed as they entered the cab, allowing Zeno to finally breathe in relief.
“You were so good that everyone hated your character,” Eli chuckled. “But I agree to an extent. Those behind the barriers never helped you, so why would you? It’s cruel, of course, since the people inside the mansion were inherently innocent. Still, all of you were victims of the system.”
“This is why Eli is the smartest among us,” Doha nodded, proud of his friend’s analysis.
Eli scratched the back of his neck. “That was true before,” he muttered to himself before glancing at Zeno. “I don’t know about now, though.”
Minji, on the other hand, was silent—in contrast to her usual nature. She stared out of the window with a thoughtful expression, her hand resting under her chin. Eli nudged her, snapping her back to reality.
“You alright?” he asked.
Minji nodded. “Hmm. It was very good. If there’s one thing I learned from it, it’s that Zeno is truly a great actor,” she smiled, turning to him.
Zeno pursed his lips from the front seat. “Thanks,” he muttered.
“It’s going to hit 10 million viewers in the first week,” she continued, sounding more serious than the others expected. “Moonrise has done it. I believe they’re trying to propel Ian to the Imperial Class. Moonrise does not have many actors in that class.”
Zeno turned to her, noting the serious look on her face. Minji seemed particularly knowledgeable about the industry. Zeno couldn’t agree more, though. He glanced at his phone, and ‘Code Black’ was already trending first in their entire country, even though it hadn’t been released to the public yet.
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
***
Of course, everyone expected Code Black to become a hit, but not to hit like that. Especially not against another movie determined to make waves. Theaters were packed to the brim from the moment tickets went live—long lines building outside box offices, websites crashing under demand, and sold-out signs plastered on screens nationwide. It was chaos in the best way. Within a week, the film smashed past the ten-million ticket mark, breaking records and turning the heads of even the most indifferent industry insiders.
The controversy over actor safety had left a bitter taste. For months, the movie sat under a cloud of doubt. But it exceeded all expectations, and when the screen lit up, it seemed none of that mattered.
The pacing was described as flawless, and the actors matched each other’s performances perfectly. Zeno benefited from this to some extent, of course. He played a deeply unlikable character, but it sparked debates online about how his character was perhaps the most rational of them all.
– The movie was really great. We needed a good disaster movie for the century.
– I watched both films released in the same week, but I prefer Code Black so much more. The other felt quite pretentious.
– Well, both still reached ten million viewers in a single week, but Code Black is making more noise. I’ve rarely seen reviews for the other movie, except for sponsored ones. Did they pay for those tickets?
– Code Black on top! Zeno Han surprised me with his acting.
– Yeah, he surprised me as well. I thought he would be a cringy antagonist, but by the end, I found myself resenting and rooting for him at the same time.
– I honestly can’t wait for The Forsaken Prince.
– Oh, he’s the guy being criticized for taking the main role in that adaptation? Not bad. I might watch the drama when it airs.
– When does it air?
– Next week! The date has been confirmed. It’s going to air every Thursday and Friday.
***
Somewhere high up in a steel tower veiled in smog, behind thick tinted windows that kept out both the skyline and the noise, sat a room that reeked of cigarette smoke and burnt coffee. A handful of sharply dressed executives lined the long obsidian conference table, their backs stiff and expressions strained. Phones were silenced, and breathing felt optional.
At the head of the table sat Mr. Kim. He was an odd sight in such a modern place. His suit had long since been forgotten, and he was wearing very comfortable clothes. His pen tapped against the table—one tap every few seconds, worming its way into their ears. He hated overtime, and this meeting had surpassed the threshold fifteen minutes ago. It had been hours.
Adjacent to him was a young man in a designer varsity jacket, his wrists cluttered with gold and watches that cost more than someone’s rent. He was playing ‘GEAR OF GUARDIANS’, one of the leading MOBA games of the year. He muttered curses from time to time when his character died.
Between them, the employees were sweating. No one dared to speak—until the young man finally did. “So, I’m part of the Rookie Class now, huh?” he asked. “I honestly don’t know why we have to be here this late, but we should celebrate, right?”
Everyone turned to him. The young man finally placed his phone down. The words ‘VICTORY’ reflected on the screen. He tilted his chin upward, smiling faintly. “It only took a year. The fastest in the industry, right?”
His movie, Backstreet Fighters, a gritty tale about a boxer clawing his way out of poverty into the limelight, released at the same time as Code Black. It surpassed ten million viewers like they expected, but the room was still filled with tension.
Silence returned until Phoenix spoke again. “Five million of my movie’s views were for me,” he said. “You know that. I know that. The fans made that happen.”
A few executives looked down, knowing he wasn’t wrong. Mr. Kim stopped tapping. He looked up, exhaled, and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Five million,” he repeated softly, then smirked. “Half of them were paid… by me. We both know that.”
Phoenix continued smiling. “Daebak has a lot of money, don’t they? Your reputation comes at a cost these days. You wouldn’t want others to find out that a movie predominantly produced by Daebak didn’t surpass five million views.”
Mr. Kim shrugged. “No one else in the industry will ever find out anyway. It just hurts my pride seeing something from Moonrise trample over ours.”
The employees nodded silently. Then Mr. Kim’s eyes snapped to a woman near the corner. He pointed with the pen. “Fire the writer,” he said flatly.
The woman blinked. “Sir?”
“It’s her fault.”
The employee pursed her lips, knowing the writer had done nothing wrong. She nodded anyway. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Kim stood. “The hype for Code Black will die down soon. What’s important is that you’re now in the Rookie Class. Once your drama airs next week, you’ll be closer to Regency.”
“Of course,” Phoenix smiled, glancing at the screen still displaying the word ‘VICTORY.’ “At the end of the day, I will always win.”
Just then, Assistant Byun entered briskly, a tablet in hand.
“Sir,” he whispered, patting Mr. Kim’s shoulder. “The teaser is here.”
Phoenix’s brows rose. “For my drama?”
Assistant Byun shook his head.
“No, sir,” he said, turning the tablet around. “It’s for The Forsaken Prince.”