While the digital world burned in a fever of pointless arguments and fan wars, the atmosphere in the private lounge of the Baek family’s corporate headquarters was one of opulent, suffocating luxury. The room was a cathedral of excess—gold-leafed moldings, deep mahogany panels, and a view of Seoul that made the city look like a miniature model for their amusement. Here, the chaos of the internet was not a source of stress, but a form of entertainment.

Baek Ji-hwan sat in a high-backed leather chair, a glass of vintage cognac in his hand, watching the scrolling feeds of a large monitor that displayed the real-time data of the social media storm. Beside him, Baek Min-seok leaned against a marble table, his face lit by the cold glow of his tablet. Around them stood the Baek family’s inner circle of directors—men who had spent their lives navigating the currents of power and were now reveling in the calculated destruction of LUNE’s public image.

Joining them was Seo-yeon’s husband, the puppet CEO, who sat with a forced smile, trying his best to look as though he belonged in the room. He was the only one who seemed slightly uneasy, perhaps because he knew that the "old-fashioned" world the Baeks were mocking was the only place where he had ever felt a shred of actual authority.

"Look at them," Min-seok chuckled, a cold, mocking sound that echoed in the quiet room. He swiped through a series of posts, showing the visceral attacks on Mirae and Director Park. "The peasants are doing exactly what we expected. They don’t need logic; they just need a direction to point their anger. Once you tell them that something is ’outdated,’ they’ll tear it down just to feel like they’re part of the future."

Min-seok looked up at Ji-hwan with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "I’ve already authorized the next phase. I’ve paid a fleet of professional trolls—the best in the business—to flame the LUNE fan pages even further. We aren’t just reacting; we’re orchestrating. They’re pushing the AI narrative, spinning every criticism of Min-ho’s departure as a ’bold move’ for the sake of innovation. The more the LUNE fans fight back, the more they look like desperate luddites clinging to a dead world."

The directors around them laughed in agreement. To them, the netizens were not people; they were a malleable mass of predictable reactions to be manipulated. They viewed the internet as a laboratory, and the public as the test subjects.

"It’s almost too easy," one of the directors remarked, swirling his drink. "They’re so easily swayed by a bit of gold plating and a few buzzwords. They think they’re making a choice, but we’re the ones choosing for them."

Baek Ji-hwan didn’t laugh. He remained focused on the larger picture, his eyes cold and calculating. He enjoyed the victory, but he was a man of strategy, not just ego. To him, the social media war was a useful distraction, but it wasn’t the ultimate goal.

"The noise is fine, Min-seok," Ji-hwan said, his voice a low, resonant drone. "But noise doesn’t build empires. Have we heard anything from the overseas investors? The Italians, the Russians, the French? Their capital is what will truly cement this AI venture. The social media buzz is just the bait; the investors are the catch."

Min-seok’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He checked his tablet again. "No official word yet. They haven’t replied to the latest briefing. I suspect they’re just busy with their own portfolios. These people are high-level; they don’t move at the speed of a press conference. They’ll come around once they see the first demo of the AI integration."

As he spoke, Min-seok’s mind wandered. He thought of Camille, the French investor he had encountered previously. He recalled the way she carried herself, the effortless elegance of her movements, and the provocative curve of her body that had lingered in his mind like a persistent fever. He imagined her reaction to the AI project—how her sophistication would clash with the sterile precision of the technology, and how he might use that friction to draw her closer.

Ji-hwan noticed the distant look in Min-seok’s eyes and let out a short, impatient sigh. "Stop daydreaming about the French and focus on the bottom line. We are burning a staggering amount of money on this aggressive marketing campaign. The infrastructure costs alone are astronomical. We’ve already broken ground on the new data centers; we can’t afford a delay in funding."

"Of course, Uncle," Min-seok replied, snapping back to attention. "The investors will fold. They’ve seen the market trends. They know that whoever controls the AI narrative controls the future. They aren’t ignoring us; they’re just waiting for the perfect moment to enter. We just need to keep the pressure on."

Ji-hwan nodded slowly, though his expression remained grim. He knew the risk of overextending. He had staked a massive portion of the family’s liquidity on this venture, believing that the "human element" of the entertainment industry was a weakness that could be engineered away.

"Push them," Ji-hwan commanded. "Ensure they know that if they don’t commit now, they’ll be left behind in the dust. I want those funds secured before the month is out. I don’t care if you have to woo the entire European investment board—just get it done."

The group returned to their celebratory mood, the sound of clinking glass and arrogant laughter filling the room. They felt invincible, convinced that they had outsmarted the "old-fashioned" creators and captured the public’s loyalty. In their minds, LUNE was already a ghost, and the Fox Priestess was nothing more than a footnote in the history of their ascent.

They continued to watch the screen, observing the digital warfare with the detachment of gods watching ants. They didn’t see the quiet resilience of the people they were attacking, nor did they realize that by dismissing the human soul of artistry, they were creating a vacuum that someone far more capable than Min-ho was preparing to fill. To the Baeks, the world was a game of numbers and prestige, and they were certain they had already won.