Chapter Eleven: The Night It Happened
March 18th, 2024
11:44 p.m.
Hannam-dong, Seoul.
Rain tapped against the windows of the hotel suite like impatient fingers.
The walls were thick, the floors marble. No one heard her cry.
Sae-jin sat curled in the corner, shaking.
She hadn't wanted to come to the party — but her manager said it was "necessary." A branding thing. Ji-hoon would be there. It would "rebuild the pairing."
But the room wasn't part of the plan.
She'd been told they'd only take photos in the lounge. That was the script.
Then the drinks came.
Then the subtle switch — her manager vanished, and in his place was Mr. Goh, the man behind three of the country's biggest entertainment lawsuits.
---
> "Just sit on the bed," he'd said calmly.
"Ji-hoon will be here soon. You two need to be close. More… convincing."
> "I thought we were done with the fake couple narrative."
> "It's not a narrative, sweetheart," he said. "It's survival."
---
12:07 a.m.
Ji-hoon arrived.
Eyes immediately narrowed. He saw the ring light, the placement of props, the barely hidden camera behind the curtain.
> "What the hell is this?"
> "Just act like you care," Mr. Goh said. "She'll do the same. Ten photos, clean. You both go home. Or I release your text history from 2019."
> "Get out."
> "Ji-hoon," Sae-jin whispered, voice trembling. "I—I didn't know they'd—"
But the camera clicked anyway.
One shot.
Sae-jin, sitting still, eyes glazed.
Ji-hoon mid-movement, reaching for her hand.
In the wrong light, it looked like coercion.
The photo would go viral twelve hours later with the caption:
> "Disturbing: Why is no one talking about this?"
---
Ji-hoon never posted a statement.
Because three days after that night, Sae-jin was gone.
---
Back to the present.
Eunha watched the clip she'd just decrypted from the second flash drive.
A hidden camera in Sae-jin's phone had recorded it all.
Her confession.
Ji-hoon's refusal.
The moment he said:
> "If this goes live, we're both finished. But I'd rather be hated than let them destroy you."