Areum watched Joon-ha from across the room, her book forgotten in her lap. He was seated by the window, sketching something in his notebook, but his hand trembled slightly, and his posture sagged in a way it hadn't before.
She had noticed it earlier that morning, the way he winced when he stood, the way he pressed his hand to his side when he thought she wasn't looking. His smiles were slower now, his laughter shorter. And his eyes, once so full of quiet mischief, had begun to dim.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
He looked up, startled. "Yeah. Just tired."
She nodded, but didn't believe him.
Later, when he stepped into the kitchen and forgot what he was looking for, she felt something twist in her chest.
He was hiding something.
And she was starting to wonder if it was something he couldn't outrun.
_______________
Detective Choi sat in his office, the USB drive finally decrypted, the screen before him glowing with files that had been buried for years.
"Kang Industries Internal Archive"
He scrolled through folders labeled with cold precision:Trainee Compliance, Asset Management, Subject 11A.
He clicked.
Ji-woo's name appeared.
So did Soo-min's.
So did others.
But one name was missing.
He had removed it himself.
Joon-ha.
He had promised. And Choi didn't break promises, not even for justice.
He copied the files into a clean folder, carefully redacting every trace of Joon-ha's involvement. Then he printed the documents, slid them into a plain envelope, and sealed it.
He knew who needed to see them next.
____________
Areum sat in the library, Ji-woo's case file spread across the table. She had been combing through old interviews, court records, and archived blogs when she found it, a name.
Yoon Seol-ah, a former trainee who had filed a complaint against Hanuel Entertainment six years ago. The case had been dismissed quietly, but the timing aligned with Ji-woo's investigation.
She grabbed her coat and left the library, heart pounding.
___________________
Detective Choi opened the door to his office and blinked in surprise.
"Areum?"
She held up the file. "I found something. I think it's connected to Ji-woo."
He stepped aside, letting her in. "You're not wrong."
She sat, eyes scanning the room. "You knew him, didn't you?"
Choi hesitated. "I did."
"Then help me. Please."
He handed her the envelope.
"These are the files Ji-woo was working on. Everything I could recover."
She opened it, eyes widening as she flipped through the pages. Names. Timelines. Payments. Contracts.
_______________
Two days later, the media storm exploded again.
"Actor Lee Joon-ha and Journalist Han Areum in Beach Scandal!"
Photos everywhere, blurred yet unmistakable. His hand on hers. Her head resting against his shoulder.
The internet feasted on it.
And Kang Industries' PR division worked overnight to bury it.
At the press conference, Joon-ha stood under the harsh flash of cameras, his expression cold, detached.
Reporters shouted questions.
"Mr. Kang! Are the rumors true?"
"Are you dating Miss Han?"
"Is this related to the Kang Corporation deal?"
He looked into the cameras, every muscle in his face tight, and said,
"No. She's just a friend. The rumors are false."
The words cut like glass.
Areum watched the broadcast from her apartment, her fingers trembling.
Just a friend.
He hadn't even looked sorry.
But deep down, she knew why.
He was protecting something, or someone, bigger than both of them.
Still, it didn't hurt any less.
______________
Kim Ara moved through the Kang mansion like a shadow, her steps silent, her breath steady. She had waited until the staff had retired, until the halls were empty, until the house exhaled into stillness.
She reached the study door and slipped inside.
The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the tall windows. She moved quickly, scanning the shelves, the desk, the locked drawers.
Then she found it, a ledger, half-hidden beneath a stack of reports.
She opened it.
Names. Dates. Payments.
Her eyes narrowed.
Footsteps.
She froze.
The doorknob turned.
She slid behind the curtain, heart pounding.
The door opened.
A butler stepped in, glanced around, then left.
She waited a full minute before slipping out, the ledger still in her mind.
She hadn't been caught.
But she had come dangerously close.
_________________
In a private room, dimly lit and silent, President Kang sat with his assistant, a glass of whiskey in hand.
"They're getting too close," he said.
The assistant nodded. "We've traced the leak. It's internal."
Kang's eyes narrowed. "Then clean it up."
The assistant hesitated. "And the girl?"
Kang didn't answer.
He just stared into the fire.
Then, after a long pause, he said, "Get rid of them."
The assistant bowed. "Understood."
No names were spoken.
But the order had been given.
And someone's time was running out.