[Kei]
The lights were brighter than usual.
Or maybe it just felt that way.
Kei stood behind the curtain.
One step away from the stage.
One step away from the cameras.
One step away from millions of people waiting for answers.
The microphone felt unusually heavy in his hand.
Not because of its weight.
Because of what came with it.
Every word he said today would be analyzed.
Repeated.
Twisted.
Debated.
A single mistake could create another headline.
Another scandal.
Another disaster.
Yet strangely—
he felt calm.
Not completely.
But calmer than he should have been.
Across the room, managers watched nervously.
Public relations staff whispered among themselves.
Lawyers stood near the back.
Everyone looked tense.
Everyone except him.
Because somewhere between yesterday and today—
something had changed.
The fear had changed shape.
Before, he had been afraid of the scandal.
Now?
He was afraid of what would happen if he stayed silent.
A staff member approached.
"Thirty seconds."
Kei nodded.
The staff member left.
The room became quiet again.
He pulled out his phone one last time.
His thumb hovered over a familiar contact.
No-Ah
For a moment, he simply stared at her name.
Then typed.
Don't watch this video if you're nervous.
He paused.
Then added:
And please just stay away from the comments section.
A second later—
the message sent.
No reply.
Not yet.
Probably because she was asleep.
Or trying to convince Yun-Ra she wasn't worried.
The thought almost made him smile.
Almost.
"Ten seconds."
Kei locked his phone.
Slipped it into his pocket.
And looked forward.
The countdown began.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The curtain opened.
The lights hit immediately.
Cameras.
Reporters.
Journalists.
Rows of seats.
Dozens of faces.
Waiting.
Watching.
Judging.
Kei stepped onto the stage.
A wave of camera flashes exploded instantly.
He ignored them.
Walked to the podium.
Stopped.
Looked out across the room.
Then bowed.
A respectful bow.
Professional.
Steady.
When he straightened—
the room fell silent.
Everyone waiting.
Everyone listening.
Kei adjusted the microphone.
Then spoke.
"Thank you for coming today."
His voice echoed through the room.
Clear.
Controlled.
Different from the way he usually spoke during broadcasts.
Different from interviews.
Different from variety shows.
There was no playfulness today.
No teasing.
No smile.
Only honesty.
"I know many people have questions."
The flashes continued.
"I know many people are disappointed."
A pause.
"I also know many people are angry."
Silence.
Kei looked down briefly.
Then back up.
"I'm not here to argue with those feelings."
Several reporters exchanged glances.
Because that wasn't the response they expected.
Most celebrities denied.
Deflected.
Avoided.
Kei continued.
"What I'm here to do is take responsibility for my part in this situation."
The room became even quieter.
"If my actions have caused concern to fans, I sincerely apologize."
A pause.
"But there is something more important that needs to be said."
The words hung in the air.
Every camera remained fixed on him.
Every reporter listening carefully.
Kei's expression hardened slightly.
"The person being discussed online."
A pause.
"The person appearing in articles."
Another pause.
"The person receiving messages, comments, and unwanted attention."
His voice remained calm.
But firmer now.
"She is a private citizen."
Silence.
"She is not an idol."
Another pause.
"She is not a public figure."
The room remained completely still.
"And she did not choose this."
For the first time—
emotion slipped into his voice.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Enough for people to hear it.
Enough for people to notice.
"Many people have spoken about her without knowing her."
Kei's hands tightened around the podium.
"They've made assumptions."
A pause.
"Created stories."
Another pause.
"And shared personal information that never should have been public."
The flashes slowed.
The atmosphere shifted.
Because this was no longer a scandal statement.
This was something else.
Something personal.
Something genuine.
Kei continued.
"I understand that public figures receive criticism."
Silence.
"I understand that my choices can be questioned."
A pause.
"But targeting someone who has no connection to this industry is wrong."
The room was completely silent now.
No whispers.
No movement.
Nothing.
Because every person present knew exactly who he was talking about.
And every person present knew he was right.
Kei looked directly toward the cameras.
As though speaking to someone beyond them.
Someone who might be watching.
Or might refuse to watch.
Someone who had spent yesterday staring at hateful comments.
Someone who had found a sign hanging from her gate.
"Words matter."
His voice softened.
"But they leave marks."
Silence.
"Please remember that the person on the other side of your screen is still a person."
For a brief moment—
his thoughts drifted.
To a girl sitting on a swing.
To a café.
To ramen.
To a pinky promise.
To someone who always worried about other people before herself.
Then he looked back at the audience.
And finished.
"I am asking everyone respectfully."
A pause.
"Leave her alone."
The room went silent.
Completely silent.
No flashes.
No whispers.
Nothing.
Because suddenly—
this wasn't entertainment anymore.
This wasn't gossip anymore.
This wasn't an idol scandal anymore.
It was a young man standing in front of the entire country and asking them to stop hurting someone.
And everyone could feel it.
Kei stepped back from the podium.
Bowed once more.
Then left the stage.
Without answering questions.
Without elaborating.
Without changing a single word.
The curtain closed behind him.
And only then did he finally exhale.
☆ ☆ ☆
The backstage area exploded immediately.
Phones ringing.
Managers talking.
Reporters requesting follow-up interviews.
PR teams scrambling.
Everyone moving at once.
Yet none of it registered.
Because Kei had already pulled out his phone.
One notification.
A message.
From No-Ah.
His heart immediately skipped.
He opened it.
The message was short.
Very short.
Good job. You sounded scary.
Kei stared.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
A real laugh.
The first one all morning.
Another message appeared immediately after.
I've never heard you talk like that.
His shoulders shook slightly.
Kei leaned against the wall.
For the first time all day—
he smiled.
Then typed back.
That's the meanest thing you've ever said to me.
The reply arrived almost instantly.
I'm serious.
Pause.
Then:
You did well.
Kei stared at the screen.
The words were simple.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing complicated.
Yet somehow—
they meant more than every headline.
Every article.
Every public reaction.
Because there was only one opinion he'd been worried about.
And now he had it.
What's gotten into you today?
He typed back, his smile still plastered onto his face.
All the compliments... It's overwhelming.
A typing bubble appeared.
I just felt like it.
He smiled again.
For several moments, he simply looked at their chat.
Then something Mrs. Yoon had said in the meeting resurfaced in his mind.
Jae-Won.
The video.
The emails.
The threats.
A cold feeling settled in his stomach.
Without thinking, Kei typed another message.
No-Ah.
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
What?
Kei hesitated.
Then:
Has a weird number been contacting you?
Several seconds passed.
Long enough to make his chest tighten.
Then—
What kind of weird number?
Kei frowned.
His fingers moved quickly.
Aside from the criticism and all that.
Maybe someone asking strange questions.
Someone pretending to know me.
The typing bubble appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Stopped again.
Kei immediately sat up straighter.
Something about the hesitation bothered him.
Finally—
a message arrived.
Actually... yes.
His heartbeat slowed.
Then sped up.
Really?
He was expecting a no.
Why did he contact her?
The response took longer this time.
Much longer.
Then:
I thought it was just someone who got the wrong number at first.
Kei's stomach dropped.
Immediately.
What happened?
Several seconds passed.
His grip tightened around the phone.
The typing bubble returned.
A man came to the care one day.
Kei's expression darkened instantly.
Another pause.
Then:
He said his name was Jae-Won.
Everything inside Kei went cold.
The noise around him disappeared.
The conversations.
The phones.
The movement backstage.
Gone.
Only the screen remained.
Only those words.
He talked to me before the scandal happened.
Kei stared.
His pulse pounding.
Why didn't you tell me?
The reply appeared immediately.
... I don't know.
A pause.
Then:
But he said he was your close friend.
Kei shut his eyes briefly.
His jaw tightening.
Because that's exactly what Jae-Won had once been.
A friend.
Years ago.
Before everything went wrong.
Before jealousy.
Before resentment.
Before obsession.
His phone buzzed again.
He knew things about you. More than necessary.
The things only someone very close to you would know.
Another message.
He said you guys used to be friends before you debuted.
Kei felt sick.
Because it was true.
No-Ah continued.
I didn't know who he was.
But he seemed jealous.
A pause.
Or maybe I'm just delusional.
Kei stared at the screen.
Every piece suddenly clicking together.
The café.
The threats.
The video.
The emails.
The scandal.
Jae-Won hadn't suddenly appeared.
He'd been planning this.
Watching.
Waiting.
Long before anyone realized.
Another message arrived.
He asked a lot of questions about you.
Kei's expression hardened.
What kind of questions?
The typing bubble appeared.
Whether we were close.
How often we'd met.
If we had been spending time together.
Another pause.
I thought he was worried.
Then:
But then I kept thinking... How did he know you and I were close?
Kei let out a bitter laugh.
One without any amusement in it.
Worried.
That was one word nobody would ever use for Jae-Won.
Not anymore.
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
Because if Jae-Won had approached No-Ah before the scandal—
then this wasn't impulsive.
This wasn't revenge in the heat of the moment.
It was planned.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
And that made it far more dangerous.
His phone buzzed again.
A final message.
Kei?
He blinked.
Then typed back.
Yeah?
The response came almost instantly.
You look like you would kill someone when you're angry, don't you?
Despite everything—
a small laugh escaped him.
Because somehow—
somehow—
No-Ah had managed to sense his mood through a screen.
Again.
Kei shook his head.
Then replied:
Apparently, someone said I sounded scary today, too.
Three dots appeared immediately.
True.
For the first time since reading Jae-Won's name—
Kei smiled.
Small.
Brief.
But real.
Yet as the conversation faded and the noise of the backstage area returned—
one thought refused to leave him.
Jae-Won had spoken to No-Ah before the scandal.
Which meant he hadn't just wanted to destroy Kei.
He had specifically targeted No-Ah too.
And suddenly—
Kei realized this situation might be much bigger than he'd originally thought.
☆ ☆ ☆