Needless to say, Stephen accepted the pitch without hesitation.
The confidence in Jihoon's voice, the clarity of the vision—it was impossible to resist.
But while the greenlight was unofficially given, they both knew there was still a long road ahead.
The Ritualverse, as Jihoon had coined it, needed refining.
It wasn't just about stacking cool ideas together; it had to be grounded—anchored in history and plausible science.
The challenge was aligning ancient rituals with modern logic, ensuring the entire universe avoided drifting into typical mystical or fantasy tropes.
That work would come later.
For now, the most important thing was this: Stephen was on board.
The Ritualverse ship was ready to set sail, and that alone was a victory worth savoring.
Still, Jihoon had a packed schedule ahead.
Beyond pitching the Ritualverse, he was also in the middle of finalizing his upcoming film.
So, for the next few weeks, he buried himself in the editing room. Long days turned into longer nights, fueled by coffee, determination, and an ever-growing pile of notes.
By the time October ended, Jihoon had locked in his final cut.
The baton was now passed to the VFX team at Framestore, who would spend the next few months weaving their visual magic into the film.
With post-production now off his plate, Jihoon finally had some breathing room—and with it, the freedom to follow his own personal agenda.
He asked his assistant to take a break, suggesting he enjoy some downtime in LA before heading back to Korea.
Naturally, being the generous boss he was, Jihoon handed him a month's bonus—enough to explore, eat well, and live a little.
But Jihoon had his reasons for traveling solo.
What he was about to do next wasn't something he could easily explain, and it wasn't something meant to be shared with anyone not directly involved.
It was personal, both emotionally and professionally. He had plans beyond sightseeing.
He wanted to revisit places he had overlooked in his previous life while living in this city—corners of Los Angeles that once held meaning or curiosity but were lost to his old schedule.
And more importantly, after this short journey, he intended to meet someone—someone he hadn't known before, but whom he wanted to meet in this life.
Of course, after months of exhausting work, he wasn't about to dive headfirst into more mentally taxing business.
First, he wanted to unwind.
So with that he spent his days drifting through LA's iconic landmarks—the Hollywood Sign, Griffith Observatory, Venice Beach.
But one spot, in particular, held more meaning than the others: a house in Beverly Hills, located at 812 N Bedford Drive.
To most, it was just another luxury estate.
But to Jihoon, it was the house that had inspired Michael's mansion in Grand Theft Auto V—a game that, in his previous life, had offered rare moments of escape between long filming days.
It might sound silly to outsiders, but in those stolen hours of gameplay, Jihoon found a strange sense of peace.
Now, standing in front of the real-life counterpart, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.
The stone facade, the arched windows, the curvature of the driveway—it was all exactly as he remembered.
In his past life, that house had been reduced to ash during the California wildfires.
But here it was again, intact and standing.
There was something almost poetic about it.
In his previous life, the house was just pixels on a screen. A replica.
Now, in this timeline, he was standing before the original. He didn't know whether it would survive this time around—whether history would repeat itself.
But in that moment, as he stood quietly in the shade of the palm trees lining the street, Jihoon felt something rare: a kind of quiet peace, touched by remembrance.
There was something poetic in that. A reminder that maybe not everything had to burn.
Jihoon smiled faintly at the thought, soaking in the moment. But he also knew better than to loiter.
A Korean guy staring too long at a multimillion-dollar estate in Beverly Hills? Yeah, that had "unwanted police attention" written all over it.
He gave the house one last, respectful glance—like saying goodbye to an old friend—and quickly made his way toward the Santa Monica Pier.
Later that afternoon, he found himself at the end of the pier, standing beneath the seagull-streaked sky, breathing in the salty breeze.
The sound of waves crashed softly beneath him, mixing with the distant laughter of children and the rumble of skateboards.
It felt cinematic, almost scripted.
And then a figure stepped up beside him. Quiet. Unassuming.
For a split second, the moment felt like a spy film—two undercover agents meeting to exchange classified secrets under the cover of ocean air.
Jihoon chuckled quietly to himself at the thought.
But this wasn't espionage. This wasn't drama.
It was something far more interesting.
This was the man Jihoon had mentioned long ago, back when he took Jieun to Loen Entertainment.
And now, finally, their paths were about to cross.
"Mr. Kim," Jihoon said with a smile, turning toward him. "Didn't expect you to actually show. But I'm glad you did."
Brian glanced over, eyes calm but alert. "You sounded like someone worth listening to. I figured I'd take the risk."
Jihoon chuckled, a hint of genuine surprise in his tone. "That's generous of you. Especially considering… well, people like me don't exactly have the best track record in your story."
He meant it.
People like Jihoon—the so-called 'one percent,' the elite born into power and wealth—hadn't treated people like Brian kindly.
After all, Brian Kim was once on the inside too.
A rising star, a brilliant strategist at the helm of an ambitious company, until the chaebol powers crushed him like they did to so many others with ideas that didn't serve the status quo.
But instead of disappearing, Brian vanished in his own way—leaving Korea, starting over in LA, quietly rebuilding a life from scratch.
That kind of reinvention took a kind of strength Jihoon deeply respected.
Most people, when faced with a fall from grace, either broke or faded away.
But not Brian. He adapted. Endured.
Refused to surrender his vision just because a few powerful hands told him to stop dreaming.
Jihoon admired that.
Hell, it was the reason he'd reached out in the first place.
"I'm guessing you already know who I am," Jihoon said, watching the waves. "And not just the version the media talks about."
Brian gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable. "Enough to know why you're here. Enough to know you're not like the others."
Jihoon exhaled slowly. "I won't pretend I'm not part of the system. I was born into it. But I'm trying to find a way out of it…"
There was a beat of silence. Not awkward—just heavy with thought.
Then Jihoon continued, voice softer now, more vulnerable.
"I know what it's like to be watched, cornered, maneuvered like a pawn. And I think you and I… we might be standing on the same chessboard."
Brian looked at him, eyes sharp but not unkind. "So, what is it that you want?"
Jihoon turned to face him fully, locking eyes. "An alliance," he said plainly. "I know what you tried before. I know how close you came to breaking free from their grip. So why not give it another shot?"
Brian studied him for a moment, then let a faint smile tug at the corner of his lips. "And you think I can pull it off?"
Jihoon nodded. "I think we can. Together."
[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe, JiangXiu, Daoistadj and Daoist098135 for bestowing the power stone!]