The internet burned that morning.
#KangIndustriesLeak trended across every platform, headlines flickering like wildfire:
"Corporate Scandal Tied to Entertainment Trainee Program."
"Anonymous Sources Expose Decade-Long Cover-Up."
The PR department was in chaos. The stock had fallen seven percent in less than an hour. Reporters were swarming the gates of Kang Tower. And inside the building, silence moved like a sickness.
Joon-ha sat in the boardroom, surrounded by polished glass and trembling executives. His father sat at the head of the table, perfectly composed, too composed.
"Damage control is already underway," President Kang said, voice steady as a blade. "Legal is drafting statements. We'll deny all involvement until further notice."
Joon-ha's hand tightened around his pen. "But the ledger—"
"Will not see daylight," his father cut in. "You're not to speak of this. To anyone."
The air thickened. Joon-ha looked around. The board members avoided his gaze. His father's assistant stood behind him, eyes fixed on the floor.
Something inside Joon-ha's chest twisted.
He thought of Areum. Of the truth she was chasing. Of Detective Choi's warning echoing in his mind "Once this starts, there's no stopping it."
For the first time, he wondered what side his father was really on.
Across town, Kim Ara leaned over her laptop, decoding the final columns in the ledger she'd stolen. Every entry led to a web of shell companies and offshore accounts, all tied back to Kang Industries' entertainment branch, but one name stood out, circled in red ink.
Yoon Eun-woo.
Her pulse skipped. She knew that name. Everyone did. The rising doctor which is also a psychiatrist, Ji-woo's closest friend before his death.
She whispered, "Eun-woo… what did you do?"
The realization sank cold into her bones. Eun-woo wasn't just involved, he was protected. Every transaction that traced to his name had been rerouted under an alias, sealed with corporate clearance codes Ara had seen only in the president's files.
Before she could process further, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She hesitated, then answered.
"Stop digging," a man's voice said, low, calm, dangerous. "You don't know what you're opening."
The line went dead.
Ara sat still, the hum of fear settling beneath her ribs. She looked out the window, half-expecting to see someone watching.
____________
Detective Choi wasn't paranoid, not anymore. The shadows trailing him had become more deliberate. Every time he left his office, there was a car parked a few meters down, the same one.
That night, as he crossed the street to his apartment, headlights flared, too close, too fast.
He jumped aside as a black sedan screeched past, the mirror grazing his arm. The car didn't stop.
Choi exhaled, steadying himself. "So that's how it is."
He climbed the stairs slowly, every creak of the railing like a heartbeat counting down.
In his living room, he poured himself a drink and looked at the old photo on his desk.
His sister, Choi Ha-rin. Smiling, bright, wearing her trainee badge like it was the start of a dream.
But her name was one of the first that appeared in Ji-woo's files. "Subject 09C."
They said she took her own life after she run away.
But he had seen the bruises.
He whispered, "I'm not stopping. Not now. Not after you."
And somewhere in the shadows outside his window, a camera clicked.
Two days later, Ara met Choi in a quiet coffee shop on the outskirts of Seoul. No names, no greetings. Just tension thick enough to taste.
She slid a USB across the table. "The ledger's real. And it mentions someone unexpected."
He raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Yoon Eun-woo and also two entertainment agencies name."
Choi froze. "That can't be."
"It can," she said. "And I think Ji-woo knew. The records match the same months Ji-woo stopped publishing his columns."
For a moment, silence pressed between them, only broken by the hum of a coffee machine.
Choi leaned forward. "You realize what this means? Kang Industries didn't just fund the entertainment programs. They bought silence."
Ara met his gaze. "And now that silence is cracking."
He studied her for a long moment, her eyes sharp, her hands trembling slightly, though she hid it well.
"You're brave," he said quietly. "But bravery gets you killed in this game."
Ara smirked faintly. "Then let's make sure we win before it does."
Their eyes locked, no romance, just the electricity of shared danger.
_______________
That night, Ara slipped into her apartment and opened her burner phone.
She typed a message, encrypted it, and sent it to a private journalist channel:
Anonymous Tip: Check Kang Industries. Entertainment Division. Search for Yoon Eun-woo. Follow the money trail.
She turned off the phone, removed the SIM card, and flushed it down the sink.
Then she leaned against the counter, heart pounding. "Ji-woo," she whispered. "You wanted the truth out. I'm doing it. For you."
Her eyes burned as memory unfolded
Ji-woo laughing on a rainy afternoon, holding two paper cups of coffee.
"Promise me, Ara," he said, "if something happens, don't let the story die."
"I promise."
Now the promise was catching fire.
At that same hour, Eun-woo slammed the door to Ara's penthouse open.
She froze.
He was pale, eyes bloodshot, phone in his hand. "My name," he hissed. "It's out there."
"I didn't leak it," she said, though her pulse betrayed her.
"You're lying."
"I leaked the system," she said. "Not you."
"You think they'll care about that difference?" He stepped closer, trembling. "They'll come for both of us."
"Then tell me the truth, Eun-woo!" Ara shouted. "What happened to Ji-woo?"
Silence.
He looked away, jaw tight. "You don't want to know."
"I need to know."
He exhaled, eyes glistening. "He found out what I'd done, what we'd all done. He wasn't supposed to go that far. I tried to stop him."
The room felt smaller.
Ara whispered, "You didn't stop him, did you?"
Eun-woo's silence said enough.
Meanwhile, inside his penthouse, Joon-ha's world tilted.
He'd just finished a call with his father when the dizziness hit again, a flash of pain behind his eyes, his hand gripping the counter.
"Sir, you should sit," his manager urged.
"I'm fine."
But the world spun. The floor came up too fast. The sound of breaking glass. The thud.
His manager shouted his name. No response.
The only sound was the hum of the city far below, and the piano across the room, the one he hadn't touched since the scandal began, standing silent in the dark.
Flashback
Eun-woo and Ji-woo sat on the rooftop of an old building, the night heavy with city lights. Ji-woo tossed him a beer can.
"Do you think we'll ever make it out clean?" Ji-woo asked.
Eun-woo laughed. "No one does. We just pretend better than the rest."
Ji-woo stared at the sky. "I want to write something that can't be erased. Something that makes them remember."
"You will."
"Then promise me something."
"What?"
"If I fall, don't follow."
Eun-woo smiled faintly, but the words stayed with him.
And years later, as the scandal reignited, he realized he had broken that promise by surviving.
Present
That night, Ara stood by her window, watching the city lights flicker like fireflies. Her reflection looked older, sharper.
She whispered, almost to herself,
"Maybe the truth isn't light at all. Maybe it's just a fire that burns everything it touches."
And somewhere across the skyline, in a hospital room with sterile lights, Joon-ha lay unconscious, his pulse steady, but his dreams fractured, full of voices calling from the past.
The truth was no longer hiding, it was watching, waiting, and deciding who would survive its return.