"Tsk, it still depends on luck," Jihoon muttered under his breath, a helpless smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he walked down the quiet hallway of the Palais des Festivals.
It was already late in the evening.
The cheers from the crowd, the flashing lights from earlier—everything had faded into the distant hum of Cannes nightlife.
Jihoon loosened his tie, his mind still replaying Sean Penn's words from earlier that night.
To say he had no thoughts about the Palme d'Or would've been a lie.
Anyone who made it this far—any director standing under the glaring lights of Cannes—would dream of holding that golden palm branch trophy in their hands.
And now, hearing that the head of the jury himself might be supporting him?
It was impossible not to think about it.
But this year's Cannes… it was different.
Politics ran thicker than artistry, invisible alliances shaping every conversation behind the scenes.
There was a kind of haze around the festival—an unspoken tension between factions, critics, and studios aligned with different sides of the global tug-of-war for influence.
Jihoon knew that one wrong step, one careless word, could easily trip him over someone's toes.
"Who wouldn't want another Palme d'Or sitting in their cabinet?" he murmured softly, glancing up at the moonlit Riviera.
Still, he knew this wasn't something you could force. Awards like that came not only from talent, but from timing—luck, connections, and sometimes, politics that ran far deeper than film.
He shook his head and sighed. "Forget it. Whatever happens, happens."
Just as he was about to enter the hotel room, a familiar voice called out from behind him.
"Boss! There's a reporter who wants to interview you again!"
Jihoon stopped mid-step and turned, eyebrows furrowing. "Again? Didn't we just finish one not even an hour ago?"
The young production assistant scratched his neck awkwardly. "I know, right? But he said… he knows you."
Jihoon blinked, slightly curious. "Knows me, huh? Alright then. I'll go see who it is. You guys go ahead and rest."
The staff nodded, yawning in relief. "Okay, boss. See you in the morning."
As they disappeared into the elevator, Jihoon made his way to the lobby. The place was quieter now—only a few journalists still lingering, typing away on their laptops or chatting over late-night coffee.
He scanned the room, looking for the so called reporter.
Then he saw him.
A familiar figure waving enthusiastically near the bar area.
Jihoon let out a soft groan but couldn't hide his smile. "Oh, for god's sake…"
The man grinned from ear to ear, notebook in hand.
"Hey! Don't you ever book an appointment like normal people? Must you always ambush me like this?" Jihoon said with mock annoyance, extending his hand for a shake.
"Heheh! Interviewing people is an art, you know. The key to it is surprise!" the man said proudly.
Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. "Kimbum, you cheeky bastard."
Indeed—it was Kimbum, a reporter from MBC, the same one who'd ambushed him back at the 'Saw' premiere for a spontaneous interview.
He worked under Jung Soonjae, MBC's deputy director, and over the past few months, he'd become one of the few reporters Jihoon could tolerate.
"Still pulling that stunt, huh?" Jihoon said, arms crossed. "You really think ambushing me helps your journalism?"
Kimbum shrugged with an exaggerated grin. "Hey, it's for work! You know I wouldn't interrupt you otherwise."
"Yeah, right," Jihoon said, rolling his eyes. "So tell me—MBC's gotten that rich now? Flying you all the way to Cannes just to chase me down?"
"Ah, don't tease me," Kimbum replied, laughing. "Director's orders. You're basically Korea's hottest topic right now. If we land an exclusive with you, it'll boost our ratings like crazy."
Jihoon sighed, rubbing his temple.
He could already feel the incoming migraine.
Behind Kimbum stood a small crew—two cameramen, a sound technician, and a script assistant, all waiting eagerly.
The flashing lights, the mics shoved into his face—it was all starting to give him mild PTSD.
The last few days at Cannes had been a non-stop blur of photo calls, press conferences, and interviews.
He barely had time to breathe.
"Alright, alright," he finally said, waving his hand in resignation. "Let's get it over with."
"Perfect!" Kimbum said, motioning for his crew to set up.
Within minutes, they had a camera rolling, the microphone clipped, and the recorder ready.
Kimbum adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and began, "Jihoon-ssi, you've achieved remarkable success in Hollywood. Many Korean filmmakers look up to you. Could you share some of your experiences working there? Also…"
He paused, glancing at his notes before continuing carefully. "Director Hong Sangsoo faced some setbacks this year at Cannes."
"Only you and Director Lee Changdong managed to enter the main competition. Do you think Hong's creative style is less appealing to the global film market? And… do you believe Korean cinema has a real chance in Hollywood?"
Jihoon froze.
For a moment, the air between them turned still.
He stared at Kimbum, speechless, blinking slowly as he processed the question.
Oh, come on… really?
He could instantly tell where that question came from—it was bait.
The way it was phrased, it could easily make Hong Sangsoo sound irrelevant, like an outdated filmmaker who couldn't compete internationally.
And if Jihoon wasn't careful, his answer could be twisted into something that looked arrogant or disrespectful.
If Hong himself had heard that question, Jihoon was sure the director would've stood up and slapped Kimbum right across the face.
Jihoon let out a long breath and gave the reporter a pointed look. "You're really trying to get me in trouble, huh?"
Kimbum smiled awkwardly, scratching his cheek.
He knew what Jihoon was thinking.
This wasn't his question—it came straight from the MBC headquarters.
Orders were orders, and he couldn't dodge them even if he wanted to.
"I know, I know…" he said sheepishly. "I'll buy you a drink later to apologize."
Jihoon snorted but decided to play along. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.
He thought for a moment before speaking slowly. "Well… first of all, I think it's not really about creative style. It's about understanding."
Kimbum tilted his head, pen ready.
Jihoon continued, "A lot of Korean directors overestimate Hollywood. They see it as the ultimate goal—the holy land of cinema."
"But in reality, Hollywood isn't a sacred temple; it's a massive machine. It's business, not a church."
He paused for effect. "You could say that to Korean artists, Hollywood is like Jesus to Christians—something to worship, something to chase after with blind faith."
Kimbum blinked, both amused and fascinated, scribbling down the metaphor.
"But here's the truth," Jihoon went on. "Hollywood is brutal. It doesn't care who you are or how talented you think you are."
"You can throw millions into a project and still make zero impact. It's like tossing a pebble into the ocean—no ripple at all."
He leaned forward, his tone calm but firm. "You want to survive there? You need three things: talent, protection, and money."
Kimbum looked intrigued. "Protection?"
"Yeah," Jihoon said. "You need a studio that believes in you. In my case, Fox had my back. They let me keep creative control, they guarded my work, and they made sure my profits weren't eaten alive by middlemen. Without that protection, you're nothing but prey."
He smiled faintly. "And the money part—well, that speaks for itself. In today's industry, money talks louder than vision. You can have the best script in the world, but if you don't have the funds to back it up, you're invisible."
He took a sip of water and continued, "I was lucky. I had those three things. Talent, protection, and money. Most Korean filmmakers don't. They're creative, yes—but they're entering a heavyweight ring with no armor."
Kimbum nodded silently, clearly impressed.
"So, to be blunt," Jihoon added with a wry grin, "expecting Korean films to dominate Hollywood right now is… well, a sweet dream. Something you can only achieve past midnight while you're asleep."
The crew laughed quietly behind the camera, easing the tension in the room.
Kimbum smiled and said, "That's quite a quote."
Jihoon chuckled. "Yeah, well, quote it properly, alright? Don't twist my words and make me sound like I hate Korean cinema."
"Of course, of course," Kimbum said quickly, raising both hands.