chapter 23

Chapter 23: The Leak

The morning air in Seoul was thick with tension, though the city itself remained unaware—just another weekday bustle of traffic and hurried footsteps. But inside Eunha's apartment, the atmosphere was electric.

Ji-hoon paced the floor while Eunha prepared the files. The drive was nearly full—video evidence, confidential documents, names, financial trails, and the raw footage of Baek Do-jin's threats.

"All set," Eunha said, uploading everything to a secure cloud folder. "The video goes out first. We'll time the rest to release in waves—like pressure points. They won't be able to suppress all of it."

Ji-hoon nodded. "Where are we sending it?"

"To Haneul," she said. "And a few independent journalists I trust. If anything happens to us, they'll know what to do."

She hit send.

Just like that, the story was out of their hands—and into the world's.

---

The video dropped that afternoon.

A grainy clip. A producer's voice threatening an actress. A tearful confrontation. The words "You don't just walk away" looping on every social media feed.

Within hours, hashtags trended. #JusticeForSaejin was at the top. News outlets scrambled to verify the footage. YouTubers dissected every frame. Fans of Moonlit Lies flooded comment sections with outrage.

Inside Luma Entertainment, chaos erupted.

Chairman Park's secretary burst into his office. "It's everywhere, sir."

Park remained calm, scrolling through his phone. "Expected."

"Do we release a statement?"

"No," he said. "We discredit the source. Make her unstable. Paint them both as bitter, washed-up—"

His words stopped short.

There, on the screen, was a second leak: financial documents. Fake names. Off-the-book payouts.

Tied directly to him.

---

Eunha and Ji-hoon watched the storm unfold from a café across the river. Their names were spreading too—Ji-hoon's more so, as a once-loved actor turned whistleblower.

"You okay?" Eunha asked, sliding him a hot coffee.

Ji-hoon nodded, though his hands trembled. "I knew it would be bad. I just didn't expect to feel this exposed."

"You're brave, Ji-hoon."

He gave her a look. "You did all the digging."

"But you made it real," she said softly. "You gave it a face."

Before he could reply, his phone buzzed.

A message from Haneul.

> "Be careful. They're going to fight back."

---

She was right.

That evening, a smear campaign launched online. Edited videos, old photos taken out of context, fabricated stories. Eunha was accused of manipulating Ji-hoon for revenge. Ji-hoon was painted as an unstable has-been looking for relevance.

But the public wasn't buying it. Not entirely.

And by midnight, another video surfaced—this one leaked by a former idol trainee.

It confirmed everything.

The manipulation. The silence. The pressure to conform or vanish.

The floodgates burst open.

---

Meanwhile, in a quiet underground parking garage, Baek Do-jin sat alone in his car, drenched in sweat. His phone rang.

Chairman Park.

He answered. "They're not stopping."

Park's voice was calm. "Then you know what to do."

Baek Do-jin looked at the pill bottle on his dashboard.

And said nothing.

---

Back at the café, Eunha checked her phone again. Her inbox was filling with messages—other victims, other sources, reaching out.

Ji-hoon looked at her, voice steady. "This isn't the end, is it?"

"No," she said. "It's just the beginning."

And somewhere in Seoul, the truth—long buried under glitter and shadows—was finally clawing its way into the light.