The atmosphere in the LUNE executive office was suffocating. Harin sat behind her desk, her posture rigid, her eyes flashing with a cold, sharp anger. In front of her, several tablets and folders were spread across the mahogany surface, each one containing a report that felt like a slap in the face.

She had spent the last few weeks coordinating with the major distribution networks, expecting a seamless transition from production to release. The Fox Priestess was a masterpiece; the buzz was organic, the quality was undeniable, and the anticipation from the public was at a fever pitch. But as she began the final negotiations for the prime release slots, she hit a wall.

A wall built by the Baek family.

"This is absurd," Harin snapped, her voice cutting through the silence of the room. She slammed a tablet down on the desk. "They aren't even trying to hide it anymore. The distributors are practically trembling in their boots."

Across from her, the PR team looked on with a mixture of apprehension and frustration. They had seen the data. The Baek Group's AI-generated blockbusters were being marketed not just as movies, but as the future of the industry. More importantly, the Baeks were leveraging their massive corporate influence to "incentivize" distributors. The message was unspoken but clear: Give the AI project the prime slots, or risk being cut off from the Baek Group's vast investment fund.

"The distributors are playing it safe," the PR lead explained, his voice cautious. "They know the AI project has a massive budget and a guaranteed marketing push. They're afraid that if they prioritize LUNE, the Baeks will pull their funding or push their other business interests against them. They're not betting on the art; they're betting on the money."

"And the terms they're offering us?" Harin asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Outrageous," the lead admitted. "Some are asking for a higher percentage of the box office split than is standard for a film of this scale. Others are trying to push us into secondary slots—mid-week releases, smaller theaters—essentially trying to choke our momentum before we even hit the screen."

Harin leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. It was a classic corporate squeeze. The Baek family didn't need their AI movies to be better than The Fox Priestess; they just needed to control the pipes through which the movies reached the audience. If they could limit LUNE's visibility, they could manufacture a "failure" simply by restricting the supply of tickets.

"It's a game of scarcity," Harin murmured. "They want to make us look like a niche project while they position themselves as the global standard."

"There is one bright spot," the PR lead added. "The Cinema Grand chain. Because of Director Park's long-standing relationship with their board, they've agreed to support us. They're offering the regular procedure—standard slots, fair splits, and prime visibility. They've told us that they trust Park's eye for quality over the Baek's wallet."

Harin sighed, the tension in her shoulders relaxing slightly. "One major brand is a start, but it's not enough to counter the narrative. If the other major chains push us to the sidelines, the public will perceive it as a lack of confidence in the film. We can't let the Baeks dictate the terms of our success."

She spent the next hour in a heated strategy session with her team. They discussed the pros and cons of a "guerrilla" marketing approach—leaning heavily into social media to force the distributors' hands. If the demand became so overwhelming that the distributors lost money by not showing the film, the Baeks' influence would wane. But that was a risky gamble. They needed a structural win, something that bypassed the local gatekeepers entirely.

Just as the meeting was reaching a stalemate, the door to the conference room opened. A junior staff member entered, looking breathless and wide-eyed. He held a tablet in his hand, his expression a mixture of shock and excitement.

"Director Harin! I'm sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this immediately," the staffer exclaimed.

Harin frowned. "What is it? If it's another distributor complaining about their contract, tell them to wait."

"It's not a distributor," the staffer replied, stepping forward and sliding the tablet across the desk. "It's an email from Netflux. They've reached out to ask if LUNE has made a decision regarding international distribution. They're offering a global premiere deal."

The room went silent. Harin stared at the screen. The email was professional, direct, and carried the weight of a global giant. Netflux was expanding its reach aggressively, looking for high-quality, "human-centric" content to balance their growing library of algorithm-driven suggestions. They had seen the buzz. They had seen the raw chemistry of the posters. And they wanted in.

Harin felt a surge of adrenaline. This was the breakthrough they had been waiting for.

"A global premiere," Harin whispered, a predatory smile forming on her lips. "They aren't just asking for a license; they're asking for the distribution rights."

The strategic landscape shifted in an instant. The Baek family's influence was immense within South Korea, but they were still playing a local game. By securing a partnership with a platform like Netflux, LUNE would effectively leapfrog over the local distributors. They wouldn't need to beg for prime slots in Seoul if they had the entire world watching.

"This changes everything," Harin declared, her voice now filled with a cold, triumphant confidence. "The Baeks think they can choke us by controlling the theaters in this city. But why fight for a few screens in Gangnam when we can have millions of screens in every home across the globe?"

The PR team began brainstorming immediately. The narrative would shift from "LUNE is struggling for slots" to "LUNE is too big for local theaters." They could frame the move as a strategic choice—a global launch for a global masterpiece.

"If we play this right," Harin mused, "the local distributors will be the ones begging us for the rights. The moment the world sees what we've captured in The Fox Priestess, the Baek family's AI project will look like a toy in comparison. They're fighting for the crown of the local king, while we're preparing to take the empire."

She looked at the email one last time, the logo of the streaming giant staring back at her. The Baek family had tried to build a wall around LUNE, but they had forgotten that the digital world has no borders.

Harin stood up, her eyes glowing with ambition. "Prepare a response. Tell them we're interested, but let them know that our terms are non-negotiable. We aren't just another content provider; we are LUNE. And the world is about to find out exactly what that means."