Chapter 31: A Voice in the Static
The woman's name was Park Hye-jin, a former compliance officer turned whistleblower. She had vanished from the industry five years ago after a scandal that had mysteriously gone nowhere. Eunha and Ji-hoon found her living in a rural town outside Gangneung, running a small bookstore by the sea.
She recognized Ji-hoon immediately when he walked in.
"I told myself if you ever showed up here," she said, pouring tea, "it would mean he crossed another line."
Ji-hoon sat across from her. Eunha stood near the doorway, alert, watchful.
"You worked with Kang Min-jae," Ji-hoon said quietly. "We need proof. Not rumors. Not smoke. Something real."
Park Hye-jin's face darkened.
"There was a ledger," she said. "Not digital. He kept it handwritten. Called it his 'insurance.' Every favor. Every bribe. Every ruined life. I made a copy."
Eunha's breath caught. "Where is it now?"
"Buried," Hye-jin said. "Literally."
---
That night, under a pitch-black sky and the whine of distant waves, the three of them trekked through the forest behind Hye-jin's home. She led them to a dead tree, hollowed at the base.
Inside was a weatherproof container.
She passed it to Ji-hoon.
"You'll need to decode it," she said. "He used codenames. But you'll see how deep it goes."
Ji-hoon opened the container carefully, revealing a thick journal bound in cracked leather. His hands shook as he flipped through the pages.
Dates. Names. Initials. Symbols beside each one: ₩, ✖, and a final one—◎—that repeated like a brand.
Eunha photographed every page before they left.
---
By dawn, they were back in Seoul.
Eunha worked from Ji-hoon's apartment, cross-referencing the symbols with her database. The ◎ mark appeared next to only a few names—but each of those had ended in suicide, sudden retirement, or disappearance.
"He marked them," she whispered. "People who tried to escape him."
Ji-hoon sat in silence. Then he stood.
"We go to the public."
"They'll bury it," Eunha replied. "We need more than facts. We need a voice people trust."
Ji-hoon turned toward her. "Then I'll be the voice."
---
Later that week, Ji-hoon walked into a live studio taping of a national talk show. He was booked as a guest under the guise of discussing a new film. But halfway through the interview, he paused.
"There's something I need to say," he told the host. "Not about acting. About truth."
The host, caught off guard, tried to redirect. But Ji-hoon pressed on.
He pulled a printed page from his jacket.
"This is from a ledger kept by a powerful man. A man who used fame like a cage. I've been part of that system. I stayed silent. But I won't anymore."
The producers cut the feed within ninety seconds.
But it was too late.
Clips had already gone viral.
The truth was out.
---
Somewhere in a tower overlooking the Han River, Kang Min-jae watched the fallout begin. He poured himself a drink, the ice clinking softly.
"You were my brightest star, Ji-hoon," he murmured. "You really want to burn it all down?"
But there was no one to answer.
Only the static of a television screen he no longer controlled.