It was an hour past midnight, and Hana sat alone in her apartment, the silence heavy and cold. On the sleek glass table before her lay a single manila folder, containing all the materials she needed to make her next move.
The news about Concertmaster Kang Do-hyun's "volatile" conduct and the "unprofessional chaos" at the Seoul Philharmonic Symphony had dominated the entertainment and arts columns for days. Articles of what was now being referred to as The Bow Incident had been everywhere—a verifiable scandal that neither the SPS nor even Do-hyun's high-powered legal team had been able to fully suppress.
Hana had watched the public disintegration from afar. She hadn't bothered reading the comments; she had only been interested in the fallout. Kang Do-hyun was fighting the fire she started, exactly as planned, exhausting his resources and focusing all of his attention on the surface problems.
She imagined he must have enjoyed it, rallying all his contacts and resources to shore up and fortify the little bubble he'd constructed around himself and Seo Jaemin, showing what a big, powerful alpha he was.
So she'd tapped on to her own contacts from her time working at a communications agency, a sophisticated network of important people across the media, finance, real estate, and medical industries, even searching into charities and law enforcement, and gave him even more opportunities to deal with and prove himself to his poor little omega.
The funding scandal had been a good one. Soon after the Bow Incident had gone viral, an anonymous, highly detailed document had been leaked to a financial publication, alleging that the Kang family had used their immense wealth and influence to funnel SPS donation money into questionable high-risk investments managed by a Kang family foundation. The rumor had been intended to bring attention to the cover-up of the Bow Incident, or at least SPS's precarious financial health, but the Kang lawyers had been quick to catch it, and almost immediately submitted more than enough documentation and evidence to disprove the forged facts.
But the real failure lay in the timing.
She had calculated that freezing their funding would kill their season before it began. She had expected them to fold, to cancel their upcoming shows, to starve in the dark.
Instead, they had pivoted.
Even as Hana scaled different attacks, the SPS had somehow grown wise to it. They rallied an immaculate public image, becoming practised at issuing counter-statements, even publicly calling out the sabotage and laughing it off, although they had no way of concretely identifying who was behind it.
And then, yesterday, the final blow to her strategy had landed.
They had been invited to play for a special guest item at the Asan Foundation Charity Gala—a high-profile event filled with the very donors she had tried to scare away.
Hana had watched the livestream with a growing sense of dread. She had expected a broken, thin sound from a decimated orchestra. Instead, she saw Seo Jaemin and Kang Do-hyun perform a stripped-down, haunting arrangement of Brahms that had the audience weeping.
They hadn't just survived the funding cut; they had weaponized it into an underdog story. They were clearly gaining ground despite everything she was aiming at them.
Furthermore, Hana's own contacts in the media were starting to reject her stories.
"The SPS again?? I don't know, Hana… People are getting bored of seeing them dominate the headlines all the time. My editors too. Tabloid is sensational, yes, but there's only so many times you can scream 'Fire!' and get people to react. Especially after that Gala performance went viral. The public loves a comeback story. At this point, audiences are far more interested to know what Boa has for breakfast while she's on tour."
Undeterred, Hana had continued to dig, and had eventually unearthed a plot of gold: a lady known as Mrs. Gong, who had once been housekeeper for the Kang family estate.
But what was supposed to be an easy conversation for her to extract damning information had ended up chipping away at Hana's resolve, and shook something within her core. As Hana's gaze landed again on the envelope in front of her, she recalled the meeting, the retired lady's sorrowful eyes still fresh in her mind's eye.
"He is a good boy, Kang Do-hyun Doryeonnim," Mrs. Gong had sighed, her voice thin with age and regret. "But there's so much pressure on him… it's too much."
Having already introduced herself as Do-hyun's secret girlfriend who was concerned for his mental health, Hana had pressed gently. "The pressure of public life? Does that explain the... media control the family maintains?"
"The media control is for safety," Mrs. Gong had said, a touch of defensiveness for the family she had served edging into her tone. "It's not about being above the law, the family always pays their dues. It's about being left alone. When you have money, the public claims a right to your business, and all they want to do is just live their lives in peace. They use their money to buy normal, quiet lives for the ones they love. I'm sure you know that from Do-hyun-ssi."
The quiet resignation in the former housekeeper's voice had made Hana's resolve waver. But then Mrs. Gong had continued, "But even then, sometimes there's only so much money can do. Sometimes they have to pay with their health as well. Just like Kang Sajangnim."
Hana had blinked. "Do-hyun's father?"
Mrs. Gong had nodded, sighing heavily. "All those pills over the years… Of course they were going to take a toll on him. His health suffered so terribly from living that lie." She had turned to Hana, eyes mournful. "All to protect his family. But look how he suffered for it." She had shaken her head. "But I suppose sometimes love blinds us, makes us endure things we never should have to endure."
And just like that, she had given Hana the key. She stared at the envelope sitting in front of her now, holding printed copies of the deceased concertmaster's medical prescriptions that she had managed to unearth with Mrs. Gong's clues. If what she had found didn't bring Kang Do-hyun to his knees, and Seo Jaemin down with him, she didn't know what would.
But Hana didn't feel a single sense of celebration. The victorious rush that had surged through her upon discovery had evaporated, leaving behind a profound, aching loneliness.
The Kangs were just trying to live in peace. Kang Do-hyun was fighting to protect Seo Jaemin from vicious public scrutiny and criticism, and, all this while, Seo Jaemin himself had shown no indication of wanting to do anything but conduct music to the best of his abilities.
Why was she helping Choi Seungcheol to ruin these people's lives?
She remembered the state Seungcheol had been in when he'd returned to her from the Gala, could still feel his raw, possessive fury carving into her shoulder. Having this information, this ammunition, would only feed his toxic obsession.
She knew, logically, that hurting Seo Jaemin would never make him return to Seungcheol's side. How would that even work? Returning to someone who was intent on destroying your career, your reputation, your partner's family?
Why would anybody in their right mind ever do something like that?
Or maybe... maybe she was hoping it wouldn't work.
Maybe, deep down, she hoped that if she helped Seungcheol destroy Jaemin so thoroughly that there was nothing left to salvage, Seungcheol would finally look at the wreckage, realize Jaemin was gone forever, and settle for the woman standing right in front of him.
It was a desperate, pathetic gamble. But it was all she had.
She reached for the envelope, prepared to shred its contents and burn it at the kitchen stove, when a quiet, precise knock sounded on her door.
"Hana? Hana, are you in there?"