Chapter 27: Beneath the Noise
The newsroom was louder than usual, but Eunha had trained herself to hear past the clutter. Somewhere between the hurried typing and the clink of coffee mugs, she found the silence she needed.
She scrolled through the newest set of leaked emails on her laptop, her eyes narrowing. Every document, every message, built a clearer trail—connecting Baek Do-jin to more than just Sae-jin. There were other names now. Other victims. Other scandals swept beneath gold-plated rugs.
Her phone buzzed.
Ji-hoon: "He's moving. They're trying to push Baek Do-jin out quietly. Damage control."
Eunha replied instantly.
Eunha: "That's our proof. If they're cutting him loose, they're hiding something bigger. Follow him. I'm heading to the station."
She slammed her laptop shut and grabbed her coat, weaving through the sea of reporters. Her feet moved fast, but her mind raced faster.
---
Meanwhile, Ji-hoon crouched behind a concrete pillar in an underground parking garage, watching Baek Do-jin from a distance. A black sedan idled nearby, engine humming like a quiet threat. Two men—clean-cut, expressionless—stood beside it. Not police. Not bodyguards either.
Handlers.
Baek Do-jin looked nervous for the first time in weeks. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt, and his phone trembled slightly in his hand. Ji-hoon snapped photos from behind the pillar. When one of the men took Baek's phone and crushed it under his heel, Ji-hoon knew—this wasn't a warning. This was erasure.
He backed away, slowly. Quietly. And just as he turned to leave, one of the men looked directly at him.
Ji-hoon ran.
---
At the train station, Eunha met with a former Luma intern. The girl wore oversized glasses and a face mask, her voice barely audible.
"He made us sign NDAs, even for late-night deliveries. But there was one night—I heard her crying. Sae-jin. He yelled at her, told her to 'fix her attitude' or she'd end up like 'the others.' I didn't know what he meant… until now."
Eunha recorded every word. Not just for evidence, but for memory. Sae-jin's truth couldn't be buried beneath contracts and threats anymore.
---
That night, Eunha and Ji-hoon met on a rooftop overlooking the city. He was limping, his jacket torn, but alive.
"I got photos. And a partial recording," he said breathlessly. "But they know we're close."
"They've known for a while," Eunha whispered.
They stood in silence as the city lights blinked below—so many people, so many secrets.
"Do we go public?" Ji-hoon asked.
"Not yet," Eunha replied. "Not until we find the others. Not until we expose everything."
From behind her back, she pulled out a hard drive. "This came from the intern. Hidden archives. Internal Luma files. We need to crack it."
Ji-hoon looked at her, the corners of his mouth lifting despite the exhaustion. "We're closer than ever."
And as the wind howled past the rooftop, somewhere between fear and determination, they both understood:
The noise was growing louder.
But the truth was finally rising above it.