Chapter 20: Whispers Beneath the Spotlight
The silence inside the penthouse was different now. Not the kind of quiet that followed sleep or solitude—but the tense, deliberate stillness that came after a bomb had dropped, and everyone was waiting to see who would survive the blast.
Eunha sat cross-legged on the couch, Ji-hoon's coat wrapped around her like armor. She could still smell the faint trace of cologne—clean, sharp, understated. Across from her, Ji-hoon stood with his arms crossed, pacing slowly between the coffee table and the massive window that overlooked Seoul's glittering skyline. Neither spoke for a while.
She finally broke the silence. "The leaked photos from the hotel... it wasn't just a tabloid move. That was timed. Someone wants you ruined, not just canceled."
Ji-hoon nodded slowly. "It's been this way since Sae-jin died. It's like someone's pulling strings, waiting for the final collapse."
Eunha took a breath. "The timeline still bothers me. Her death, the note, the video upload—all too clean, too perfect."
He paused mid-step, looking at her. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying maybe she didn't die that night. Maybe not the way they said. What if she's not dead at all?"
Ji-hoon's face drained of color. "You can't just say that."
"I'm not saying it without reason. I cross-referenced the autopsy leak and the EMT records. They don't match. The time of death, the blood alcohol level—it doesn't make sense. And her bank account was accessed two weeks after she supposedly died. A small transfer, to an untraceable crypto wallet."
He sank onto the couch beside her. "Why would she fake it? Or let someone fake it?"
"Because she was scared. Or because someone needed her gone, either metaphorically or literally. And you—"
"—were the perfect scapegoat," Ji-hoon finished. "A successful actor with a spotless record. One whisper and it all crumbles."
Eunha nodded. "I think she tried to tell someone. But she was silenced before it could reach the press. And that YouTuber—Yu Seul—she was paid off or manipulated too. I found a deleted blog of hers, from years ago. There's a photo of her and Sae-jin at a dance academy in Gangnam. They were friends."
Ji-hoon leaned back, rubbing his temples. "So this goes deeper than I thought."
"We need to talk to someone who knew Sae-jin before she disappeared. Someone not in the public eye, someone they wouldn't think to monitor."
Ji-hoon stood. "I know one person. Her vocal coach. She retired years ago. Moved to Busan."
Eunha raised a brow. "Can we trust her?"
"We don't have a choice."
By evening, they were on the train to Busan, disguised under hats and masks. Ji-hoon's fame made this risky, but it was a risk they had to take.
Eunha spent the ride scrolling through encrypted threads, messaging anonymous whistleblowers and deep-web bloggers. She had cultivated a small network of digital truth-seekers, and now, she sent out one chilling message:
"What if Kang Sae-jin isn't dead?"
Replies began trickling in.
"You're not the first to ask that. But be careful. The last girl who did ended up in a psych ward."
"Follow the sponsor money. It'll lead you to the puppet master."
_"There's a pattern: every three years, someone vanishes. Actress. Idol. Model. All linked to the same agency shell accounts."
Eunha's fingers trembled as she read the last one.
_"Your actor isn't the real target. He's just the last piece of the old contract."
The train rumbled on toward Busan, but Eunha no longer felt like a passenger. She felt like a piece on a chessboard—finally seeing the game for what it was.
And Ji-hoon? He wasn't the king or the knight.
He was the bait.
In a quiet office building in Seoul, someone else was reading too.
A man in a tailored suit, seated in a dim office with CCTV feeds flickering across multiple screens. His phone buzzed.
Message: "The girl knows too much. What should we do?"
He typed back quickly:
Reply: "Let her come. We'll handle her in Busan."
He leaned back in his chair, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
"Let the whisper war begin," he muttered.
End of Chapter 20