The bright screen of Dae-heon’s phone illuminated his face in the dim studio, the faint light catching the sudden, stark lines of tension around his mouth. The nascent warmth that had begun to bloom between them in the quiet space, thick with the scent of clay and oil paint, withered instantly. "She knows," he repeated, his voice devoid of all inflection, a flat pronouncement of doom. "Chief Min. My manager. She knows we’re investigating. She’s releasing round two." Nari felt a chill that had nothing to do with the studio’s temperature. The vulnerability she’d glimpsed in Dae-heon, the raw edge of a confession he’d almost made, evaporated as completely as morning mist. He was the Stone Prince again, his gaze fixed on something distant and dangerous. The air grew heavy, pressing down on her. The phantom touch of his hand on her cheek felt like a cruel trick of memory. "The press conference for 'The Crimson Sleeve' is in an hour," he stated, already moving, the urgency in his stride a stark contrast to his measured tone. "This is her play. She’ll hit us where it hurts, publicly. We need to be there." The ride to the Grand Elysian Hotel’s main ballroom was a blur of silence, broken only by Chief Min’s frantic calls to Dae-heon, which he answered with clipped, noncommittal responses. Nari’s own manager, Ms. Jihye, met them at the entrance, her face pale. "It’s a zoo in there, Nari," she murmured, attempting to smooth a stray strand of Nari’s hair. "Just stick to the talking points. Smile. Don't react, no matter what." But Nari knew. Chae-ri wouldn't be content with mere talking points. This wasn't about the drama; it was about Nari’s destruction. The moment they stepped onto the elevated stage, a blinding constellation of camera flashes erupted, each burst a tiny explosion against her vision. The hum of hundreds of whispered conversations ceased, replaced by the collective click of shutters and the low growl of the crowd. The banner above them, proclaiming the show's title across silk banners, felt like an ironic taunt. Nari took her seat between Dae-heon and the director, forcing her face into the familiar, bright smile that had fooled millions. Next to her, Dae-heon sat rigid, his presence a fortress of composed calm. Across the stage, Yoon Chae-ri sat poised, a vision of demure elegance in a flowing ivory gown. Her eyes, however, held a glint of something cold and sharp when they met Nari’s for a fleeting second, a triumphant challenge Nari understood all too well. Chae-ri had moved first. The initial questions were benign, praising the drama’s cinematography, the intricate costumes, the historical research. Nari delivered her practiced responses, a string of effervescent clichés about teamwork and artistic passion. Dae-heon spoke in his usual measured tones, his answers intellectual and insightful, giving nothing away. Then came the shift. A correspondent from ‘Scandal Echo,’ a lean man in a rumpled suit, raised his hand. "Baek Jin-ho, Scandal Echo," he announced, his voice carrying clearly through the microphone. "Mr. Kang, Ms. So, with the drama poised to be a national phenomenon, there's been renewed interest in the rumors that plagued your initial coupling. Specifically, Ms. So, could you clarify the rumors surrounding your alleged relationship with Assemblyman Jeong, and perhaps explain the significance of the scarlet-thread bracelet you were seen wearing in the leaked images?" The air left Nari’s lungs in a silent whoosh. The scarlet-thread bracelet. That detail had never been released to the media. Not a single outlet, not a single blog, had mentioned it. It was a private mark, a specific, intimate element of the original raw files that only the person who had orchestrated the leak would know. Ice crept through Nari's veins, not from fear for herself, but from the searing confirmation that Chae-ri had indeed been behind it all, holding the uncropped, unedited versions of the snapshots, ready to wield them. The room erupted, a chaotic symphony of frantic questions and camera clicks. Ms. Jihye’s panicked voice, muffled by the din, reached Nari’s ears, urging her to remain calm, to defer. But Nari couldn’t move. Her smile faltered, replaced by a raw, naked shock that threatened to shatter her composure. Her carefully constructed mask was cracking, visible for the entire nation to see. Then, Dae-heon moved. Before Nari could even form a coherent thought, he had taken the microphone from its stand, his movements fluid and decisive. He stepped slightly in front of Nari, subtly shielding her from the most aggressive camera angles. His gaze, usually so impenetrable, now swept across the room, piercing through the clamor. A strange, almost predatory calm settled over the space as he began to speak, his voice low, resonant, and utterly controlled. "Mr. Baek," Dae-heon began, his voice cutting through the remaining whispers. "It seems you've brought up a rather specific piece of information. A scarlet cord, you say? An interesting detail. One that, to my knowledge, has never been made public. It raises a pertinent question: how exactly did you come by such a private, unverified detail? Are we to understand that your outlet now actively traffics in stolen, unverified personal material, rather than verified facts?" His words were a masterstroke. He hadn't denied the images; he had shifted the focus entirely, turning the weapon back on the wielder. The press pack, momentarily stunned, began to murmur amongst themselves, not about Nari’s scandal, but about the ethics of their own colleague. The narrative was reframed in an instant. This wasn't about Nari's guilt; it was about a malicious smear campaign, a violation of privacy, and the complicity of the media in such tactics. Nari felt a surge of relief so profound it nearly buckled her knees. He was fighting for her, in the cruelest arena imaginable, and he was winning. But Chae-ri, watching her carefully laid trap backfire, would not be outmaneuvered. Her eyes, wide and glistening, suddenly fixed on Nari. She rose from her seat, her elegant gown rustling, drawing all attention to her. Her voice, choked with what sounded like genuine distress, echoed through the microphone she now held. "I… I’m so worried," she started, her lower lip trembling. "Nari… my dear friend. I just wish… I truly hope she isn’t being manipulated. It breaks my heart to see her caught in all this, pressured by… by her agency, by… by certain people. She’s so sweet, so innocent. I just want her to be safe, to make her own choices, free from all this… influence."

The Press Conference Ambush