Top Star by Luck

Chapter 47

The latest film by renowned domestic thriller director, Director Yeom Gwang Ho, [Forever Green] has been released.

“I killed them because the state wouldn’t.”

Detective Hwang In Beom.

In order to change the world, he begins to personally punish criminals.

However, the scales of justice are fair.

No country in the world allows private punishment.

As the trail of an unprecedented serial killing of criminals in South Korea starts to unravel, the question arises:

Can the murderer Hwang In Beom remain a police officer until the end?

A rare picaresque film with a serial killer as the protagonist.

Looking at the critics’ reviews, the consensus was that it was a typical well-made thriller from Director Yeom Gwang Ho.

[Yeom Gwang Ho is predictable]

[A commercial film disguised as art, like Icarus flying toward the sun]

[Predictable, but its predictability works as an advantage]

The reviews from the media who attended the preview were along these lines.

At previews, it was customary to say something positive out of courtesy, so unless it was high praise, the promotional effect wasn’t significant.

What did stand out, however, was the fact that esteemed actors Kang Do Won and Choi Yoo Chang starred as dual leads.

And…

“Wasn’t it that guy Lee Min Ki who looked handsome?”

“When I saw the teaser, his visuals really stood out.”

The visuals of the rookie actor were nothing to scoff at.

But that was it.

Few expected the film to be a major success.

Its release coincided with that of a blockbuster, and as an R-rated film, it inherently carried a risk in terms of audience numbers.

Moreover, due to the picaresque genre, even a decent success was predicted to only slightly exceed the break-even point.

[“Forever Green” production cost approximately 6 billion won, with a break-even point at 1.3 million viewers]

The average production cost for a Korean film, including marketing expenses, was 3.5 billion won, but due to the high paychecks of the two lead actors, the total production cost had skyrocketed.

Even considering the secondary markets, the film needed to surpass at least 1 million viewers.

However…

[“It’s fun though?”]

That evaluation quickly turned the tide.

“It’s actually quite enjoyable.”

“I wasn’t expecting much since they said it was predictable, but this kind of predictability is good.”

“A thriller packed with clichés, but clichés are clichés for a reason—they sell well.”

The film was receiving good reviews.

Why did such a result arise despite critics’ lukewarm reviews?

The answer was simple.

Because critics tend to be stingy with their praise for predictable films—they’re the saltiest critics in the business.

[“You can always trust a Yeom Gwang Ho movie ㅋㅋㅋㅋ”]

[“I liked how it stayed on course without any cheap melodrama.”]

The film itself was receiving positive feedback.

Despite the picaresque genre, the film was so well-made that it didn’t divide audiences much.

On top of that, the performances of the two stellar actors were undeniable.

And behind those three assessments, there was a growing sentiment about one more element.

“Was it Lee Min Ki? The actor who played Detective Goo Hak Jin did a great job.”

They were talking about Lee Min Ki.

[“For real.”]

“At first, I thought they cast him just because of his looks, but his acting was surprisingly good.”

“He had quite a lot of screen time. I thought he was one of the leads.”

“Not just his lines, but his action scenes were really realistic.”

“True, his movements were unexpectedly sharp.”

His acting was highly praised.

Since he was a rookie and his visuals stood out, many didn’t expect much from his acting. Because of that, the reversal effect was even stronger.

[“If he keeps growing, he’ll become a major actor in the future.”]

[“For real, every scene he was in, he stole the spotlight.”]

There was even a particular scene that sent his stock soaring.

“Did you see the torture scene?”

It was the scene towards the end where Detective Goo Hak Jin is tortured and eventually killed by Hwang In Beom.

Even while being tortured, he leaves behind clues that lead to Hwang In Beom’s arrest, while simultaneously revealing that he too was nothing more than a mere murderer.

It was the climax of the film.

In that scene, beyond the acting itself…

“His body was really something.”

“His abs looked like they were sculpted.”

His physique was impressive.

It was a scene that highlighted how much time he had spent on physical training, not just acting.

Strictly speaking, Lee Min Ki’s body wasn’t that of a hardcore bodybuilder.

His muscle definition was good, but he lacked volume (skeletal muscle mass).

However, that level could easily be handled with good direction and makeup.

[“I acknowledge him as a physical actor.”]

“I heard he used to model, and he built his body at the same time.”

“Come to think of it, during Campus Story, there was a scene where he wore a sweater, and his shoulders looked massive.”

“I thought it was the coat, but it was really his physique ㅋㅋㅋㅋ.”

Actors with striking visuals, both now and then, tend to receive enthusiastic praise from female audiences.

Lee Min Ki’s physique was now becoming something everyone needed to see at least once.

***

There’s a common saying when it comes to a movie’s success:

“A movie’s fate is decided in its first week.”

The first week of release is crucial.

They even say that the number of viewers in that period makes up more than 50% of the total audience, so no further explanation is needed.

Unless the movie is a long-running hit, this rule is common knowledge.

However…

[“Forever Green”] was a rare exception.

“It’s holding on for a long time.”

It had legs.

“Why?”

He was someone who usually memorized and tracked movie scores.

Naturally, he had a rough recollection of the performance of [“Forever Green”], but the trajectory was somewhat different from what he remembered.

[“Yeom Gwang Ho’s latest film Forever Green surpasses 800,000 viewers in its first week.”]

The first week followed almost exactly what Lee Min Ki had remembered.

He had vaguely recalled around 900,000, so it was within the margin of error.

At this point, Lee Min Ki already felt relieved.

“At least the score didn’t drop because of my appearance.”

He had been secretly anxious.

He worried that, unlike the original, the film’s performance might dip because of his involvement.

Even though he had resolved not to let the results affect him, was it that easy to control one’s emotions?

He had lingering concerns in the back of his mind.

“I survived…”

With a sigh of relief, he was able to shake off his nervousness.

Trainer Kim Ah Sung nodded cheerfully after seeing the first week’s results.

“This is pretty decent.”

“Right?”

Even Kim Tak agreed, surprisingly.

“It’s not a massive hit, but it’s doing well enough to be called a success. Not bad for a rookie actor’s film.”

“Tak, you haven’t even debuted yet, and you’re already talking like that. So annoying.”

“Ack.”

“Seon Ah’s right.”

“Even you, sir…”

And just like that, he shrank down.

At this point, Lee Min Ki had no more regrets about the film’s performance.

However…

The second week brought a reversal.

[Going for a second watch]

[Heard it’s fun]

[The rookie actor is pretty good at acting]

Was it due to the power of word-of-mouth?

Or was it for some other reason that the number of theaters showing the film didn’t decrease?

[Forever Green (#3)]

Even after the first week of release, the movie’s ranking didn’t plummet but instead settled in a certain position.

It was the start of a long run.

‘Was this how the movie originally performed?’

Lee Min Ki felt dizzy. He remembered the general performance of the film, but memories aren’t perfect.

However…

“Min Ki, the ranking didn’t drop again today.”

It kept going.

“Oh, it’s the same as yesterday.”

It kept going.

[Actor Joo Ha Na: Did you see the rankings, sir?]

It kept going.

“What does our director think about this?”

“Hmm, it’s doing well. I’d say this is a success.”

It kept going.

[Manager Park Han Mo: Didn’t I tell you? This kind of role suits you better, sir.]

It continued, maintaining its rank without falling, as if it had firmly anchored itself, like the tide following the moon’s pull.

At this point, there was no room for doubt, memories or not.

It was the unmistakable start of a long run.

‘What’s going on?’

When the third week arrived—by which point 95% of a movie’s success is usually determined—Lee Min Ki could only let out a faint laugh at the situation unfolding before him.

[“Forever Green” surpasses 2 million viewers, overcoming the R-rating risk and joining the ranks of box-office hits.]

The fact that his appearance hadn’t just maintained the status quo, but had actually led to better results…

‘An extra 200,000 viewers?’

The original figure he remembered was 1.8 million.

To be precise, 1.86 million.

The new numbers were significantly higher than what he recalled.

Lee Min Ki’s role as Detective Goo Hak Jin had increased by about 30%, and his face appeared more prominently in promotional materials.

This change had reflected in the film’s improved performance.

In the form of doubling its break-even point.

“…”

At some point, Lee Min Ki began to feel a fiery sensation deep in his chest.

Like a burning flame he wanted to shout out loud with a roar.

At first, he didn’t know what this flame meant.

It felt strange.

After all, it had been a long time since he last felt something like this.

That’s right.

Lee Min Ki had finally reached the point where he could clearly feel a sense of accomplishment.

“I did it!”

He shouted alone in his tiny one-room apartment.

As if squeezing every single cell in his body, as if holding the greatest joy of his life, he shouted.

Because shouting at night would be a nuisance, he did it in the daytime.

When no one was around.

Lee Min Ki stretched and enjoyed the sweet taste of success freely in his one-room apartment.

For seconds, for minutes, for tens of minutes.

‘To commemorate, I should crush my leg workout today.’

…in a slightly twisted way.

—

At a pharmaceutical company in Incheon, Han Gye Pharm, the executives were troubled by the poor performance of a recently released product.

“How about increasing the amount of whey protein?”

“Consumers surprisingly don’t care much about the ingredients.”

“Then how about improving the design or branding?”

“I don’t think anything better than what we already have will come out.”

Indeed…

“There’s no particular problem with the product itself.”

It was a protein supplement.

In recent years, Han Gye Pharm had been trying to enter the rapidly growing fitness industry, and after years of research, they had successfully developed a high-quality protein supplement.

They were confident in its quality.

‘Other pharmaceutical companies just buy stock products and rebrand them, but we at Han Gye Pharm manufacture ours ourselves.’

From the very planning stages, they had focused on quality.

They thought that if they made a good product, consumers would naturally recognize it.

But it just wasn’t selling.

‘We’ve made every adjustment we can think of, but to still see no results…’

The company had made significant investments, so the lack of sales was driving them up the wall.

What was the reason?

In fact, the reason was quite simple.

‘Could it really be a marketing problem?’

Exactly.

It was a marketing problem.

The idea that a good product would sell well was nothing more than the naive belief of a pharmaceutical company.

Protein supplements are the type of product where marketing matters far more than product quality.

That’s why you see viral marketing everywhere on internet communities, with companies promoting their supplements at every corner.

[“Struggling to find a good protein supplement? Click here for a really well-made one. Manufactured by Bentos Pharmaceuticals in the U.S. and made with Ethiopian whey protein, so the ingredients are trustworthy. It’s a bit pricey, but if you enter my referral code, you can get 30% off. I’m only sharing this with you guys. You don’t need to thank me, but if you feel grateful, let your friends know too. Happy gains!”]

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that marketing is 90% of the business.

After all, why else would bodybuilders constantly advertise supplements as if they were walking billboards?

This marketing-driven ecosystem was unfamiliar to Han Gye Pharm, which had prioritized product quality.

“Should we increase our advertising?”

“We actually hired a model and shot an ad last quarter.”

“He doesn’t even use our product.”

“Then how about Beom Gi, the Muscle Korea champion from last time…”

“He signed an exclusive contract with a competitor for three years.”

“It’s not easy. It’s really not. I guess it’s tough because we’re latecomers—it’s hard to establish a foothold.”

And so, the unproductive meeting dragged on for quite some time.

If things didn’t improve soon, the company might be forced to withdraw from the market altogether.

“It’s too early to give up.”

Manager Han stood up abruptly, speaking loudly with confidence.

“I have an idea.”

His voice was full of conviction.

The directors, who had been engaged in fruitless debates, now turned their sharp gazes towards him.

‘Showoff.’

‘Let’s see what this one has to boast about now.’

‘Another one trying to grandstand.’

Their eyes were filled with unspoken messages: ‘If it’s nothing, you’re dead.’

“Go ahead.”

One of the directors gave him the signal.

Despite sweating nervously, Manager Han knew there was no turning back. He had to speak up, do or die.

“I have a question. Have any of you seen a recent movie?”

“A movie?”

The president, intrigued, opened his mouth to speak.

‘Now I’m really dead.’

Manager Han felt the pressure squeezing his chest, but forced a bright, confident smile as he continued.

“The movie’s called Forever Green.”