Chapter Eight: The Letter
The press conference was held at the Lotte Hotel in Seoul.
Journalists packed the room, cameras flashing like gunfire.
Ji-hoon had not spoken in 91 days — not since the scandal began.
Behind the podium, he looked pale, leaner than before, and dressed in a simple black suit.
Not the celebrity version of him. Not the actor.
Just a man holding a torn envelope in his trembling hands.
> "Thank you all for coming," he said quietly.
"Today, I won't be defending myself. I'll let her speak."
He unfolded the letter.
The paper was wrinkled and water-stained — possibly from tears.
Across the top, in hurried handwriting:
"For Ji-hoon, in case they try to erase me."
He began reading.
---
> "You once asked me why I always disappear when things get serious.
The truth is, disappearing was the only thing I was ever taught to do.
When I was 16, I had no say. My mother chose the agency.
She chose the scripts, the clothes, the boyfriends, the articles. Even the rumors."
"I was 22 when I met you. You saw through the image. And it scared me.
But I was also addicted to it — your silence, your patience, your unwillingness to touch me until I said yes, even when others would have."
A ripple moved through the audience.
Ji-hoon's fingers trembled.
> "They're going to say I died. They'll use my past to justify it.
But you know I wasn't suicidal.
You saw me when I was raw — messy, loud, sarcastic.
I was alive.
_So if this letter ends up in your hands… please don't blame yourself.
And don't stay quiet. Because silence is what they're counting on.
Don't let them bury me twice._"
---
By the time Ji-hoon finished, the room was still.
No coughs. No whispers.
Even the tabloid reporters held their breath.
Then he stepped back and spoke again.
> "I did not groom her. I did not abuse her.
I loved her in the only way I knew how — by keeping a distance when she needed space, and stepping in when she asked for help."
> "And I'm done staying silent."
He walked offstage, leaving the letter behind — now immortalized by every live camera in Korea.
---
Within hours, the internet was on fire.
#Don'tLetThemBuryHerTwice trended worldwide.
YouTubers who accused Ji-hoon deleted their videos.
Even former critics admitted the letter felt too intimate, too unpolished to be a PR stunt.
And somewhere on Jeju Island, a girl in a hoodie watched the livestream on a cracked phone screen.
Tears ran down her cheeks.
She remembered writing that letter.
But she never meant for the world to hear it.
Now they had.
And now... she had a choice:
Stay hidden, or come back and burn the whole lie to the ground.