The trailer launch event of Webbed to Be Mine was supposed to dominate the headlines.
A high-stakes, intense romance drama—
starring Yamada Yuki and Furukawa Etsuko—
already the center of massive anticipation online.
Yamada Yuki—
the nation's most beloved actor.
Admired not just for his performances, but for the image he carried so effortlessly.
The perfect man.
The perfect husband.
A love story everyone believed in—
married to his childhood best friend, just like the media always portrayed.
Untouchable.
Unshakable.
…
Until it wasn't.
The event had barely begun—
cameras flashing, fans cheering—
when everything changed.
Out of nowhere—
the video leaked.
One clip.
That's all it took.
Within seconds, it spread across every platform, every screen—
too fast to contain.
The media erupted.
Fans froze.
And just like that—
the man who was once adored…
became a headline.
A cheater.
Speculations exploded.
Accusations followed.
The internet turned ruthless.
And the trailer launch—
meant to celebrate a story of love—
was forced to halt.
Because now—
everyone was watching a different kind of drama unfold.
Takahashi Ren—PR manager to one of the biggest stars in the country—sits across from his blind date.
Tall, composed, and quietly captivating.
The kind of man who doesn't ask for attention—
but naturally commands it.
Across from him, the woman is effortlessly beautiful, her smile polite, her posture perfect.
On paper, it should work.
But something feels… off.
A subtle stiffness lingers between them.
Not quite uncomfortable—
just unfamiliar.
Like two people trying to follow a script neither of them truly believes in.
Ren listens, nodding at the right moments—
calm, attentive.
Professional, even here.
But distant.
Because even in this moment—
his mind is never far from work.
The phone rings.
Again.
And again.
Vibrating relentlessly against the table.
He glances down at the screen—
and for the first time that evening, his expression shifts.
Yamada Yuki's PR manager.
Of course.
Across from him, his date is mid-sentence, smiling, unaware.
He exhales quietly, already knowing—
this isn't something he can ignore.
"Excuse me," he says, his tone polite, controlled.
He stands, stepping away as he answers the call.
"Yes?"
A pause.
Then—
his jaw tightens.
The ease disappears.
Because whatever's being said on the other end—
it's bad.
Very bad.
"Ren, are you hearing me?"
The voice on the other end is frantic, barely holding together.
"The footage got leaked—everywhere. It's blowing up, we can't contain it!"
A sharp breath.
"Everyone's turning on Yuki… it's getting out of hand."
"I—I can't even think straight…"
A pause, shaky, desperate—
"Is this the end?"
…
In the background, another voice cuts in—quieter, trembling.
"What do we do now…?"
"My job is on the line… Yuki's career…"
"It's all falling apart."
…
Silence.
For a moment, it feels like everything is collapsing through the phone.
And then—
Ren speaks.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"Stop panicking."
One line.
That's all it takes.
"Tell me exactly when the video was uploaded."
His tone is steady, precise.
Already working.
Already in control.
Because while everyone else is losing their heads—
Takahashi Ren is just getting started.
"It dropped during the trailer launch," the voice says, still shaking.
Ren's eyes narrow slightly.
Of course it did.
Perfect timing.
Deliberate.
"This isn't random," he says, voice calm but edged with certainty.
"Someone planned this."
A brief pause—
then his tone hardens.
"I want a complete list."
"Every woman Yuki's been seen with this past month."
"No delays."
The person on the other end hesitates.
"Ren, that's going to be—"
"Do it."
One word.
Final.
"And listen carefully—"
his voice lowers, precise, controlled,
"restrict Yuki from making any statements."
"No interviews. No posts. Nothing."
A beat.
"I'll handle this."
The call ends—
and with it, so does the date.
Ren exhales quietly, already detached from the moment.
He turns back to the woman across the table.
"My apologies," he says, calm and courteous.
"Something urgent came up."
She looks confused, maybe a little disappointed—
but he doesn't stay long enough to explain.
Because his mind is already elsewhere.
On the damage.
On the solution.
…
By the time he steps into his car—
the files start coming in.
One by one.
Names.
Photos.
Timelines.
Every woman Yuki has been linked to over the past month.
Ren scrolls through them, expression unreadable.
Focused.
Calculating.
And then—
he pauses.
A pattern.
Subtle.
But there.
His gaze sharpens slightly.
Because this—
this isn't random anymore.
It's leading somewhere .
Ren's eyes move across the reports, scanning each detail with quiet focus.
Patterns.
Timelines.
Movements.
And then—
he sees it.
Yuki had been frequenting the same bar.
Not once.
Not twice.
Repeatedly.
His visits weren't random.
And the woman—
she worked there.
Ren's gaze sharpens as he flips to the next file.
A timestamp.
A location.
She had been at Yuki's house.
Just last night.
…
There it is.
The connection.
Clear.
Direct.
He doesn't hesitate.
"Yumi," he says, already dialing.
His voice is calm, but firm.
"Get me her address."
A brief pause.
"And I want her current location."
No room for delay.
"I'll have it in fifteen minutes," she replies.
Ren ends the call without another word.
Because now—
he knows exactly where this is leading.
Ren exhales quietly, irritation flickering beneath his otherwise composed exterior.
One decision.
That's all it takes to ruin everything.
"Yuki… you idiot," he mutters under his breath.
Right before a major release—
and he chooses this?
Reckless.
Uncontrolled.
A one-night mistake—
and now it's everywhere.
Ren's jaw tightens.
"If it was nothing," he thinks, cold and precise,
"it should have stayed nothing."
No attachments.
No complications.
No aftermath.
His gaze hardens as he looks over the reports again.
Years of carefully crafted image—
polished, perfected, protected—
now cracking under public scrutiny.
"All of it…"
he exhales sharply,
"hanging by a thread."
A pause.
Then, quieter—
but far more dangerous—
"This isn't just damage."
"It's collapse waiting to happen."
At the bar, Ren exchanges a few quiet words with the manager—
calm, brief, enough to avoid attention.
And then he moves.
Straight toward her.
Before Erika can react, his arm slips around her waist, pulling her close as if it's natural.
"Honey," he says smoothly, voice laced with casual warmth.
"It's late. Stop being mad."
Erika stiffens, anger rising instantly—
ready to push him away—
but then—
his voice drops.
Low.
Cold.
Right against her ear.
"You're the one in that video… aren't you?"
Her breath catches.
"If you don't want this turning into a public scene," he continues, unhurried,
"you'll come with me."
A pause.
Just enough for it to sink in.
"Otherwise… I won't be so considerate."
The words aren't loud.
But they don't need to be.
They land.
Heavy.
Final.
Erika doesn't respond.
Can't.
And before anyone notices anything unusual—
he guides her out.
Firm. Controlled.
Like she belongs there.
…
The next moment—
she's sitting in his car.
The door shuts.
And the world outside feels very far away.
"Who the hell are you?" she snaps, jerking away from him.
"And how dare you touch me like that—and threaten me?"
Her voice cuts through the silence of the car, raw and unfiltered.
This—
this is nothing like the image Yuki had painted of her.
Not soft.
Not compliant.
Fierce.
Unyielding.
For a brief second, Ren just looks at her.
Almost… caught off guard.
Not by the words—
but by the fire behind them.
"I'm in that video," she continues, her voice trembling but steady enough.
"So what now?"
Her eyes lock onto his.
"You're going to blackmail me for it?"
A bitter laugh escapes her.
"Or what—"
she leans back slightly, crossing her arms like a shield,
"you want something from me too?"
A pause.
Then, sharper—
"You're all the same."
The words come out harsher than she intends.
But she doesn't take them back.
Because breaking down right now—
in front of him—
is the one thing she refuses to do.
"Look—this isn't what you think. I'm Yuki's PR—"
The words don't even finish.
The slap lands hard.
The sound echoes inside the car.
For a second—
silence.
Ren's head turns slightly with the impact.
He doesn't react immediately.
Just stills.
Then slowly looks back at her.
Erika's breathing is uneven, her hands trembling despite the anger in her eyes.
"You know what?" she snaps.
"I don't care who you are—or who your precious star is."
"Just leave me alone."
She turns, reaching for the door—
ready to get out.
But—
his hand catches her wrist.
Firm.
Unyielding.
"Not so fast… Ms. Erika."
His voice is low now.
Controlled.
Dangerously calm.
He pulls her back into the seat.
"You're going to clean up the mess you created."
Her eyes widen slightly.
"What are you even—"
"The video," he cuts in, gaze sharp.
"Leaked at the perfect moment."
"Yuki painted as a cheater—while you conveniently remain hidden."
A pause.
Heavy.
Calculated.
"And I'm supposed to believe that's a coincidence?"
His grip tightens just enough to make a point—
not enough to hurt.
"I didn't think people would go this far for money."
His voice drops further.
Cold.
"Selling their dignity without a second thought."
Erika freezes.
Shock mixing with anger.
Before she can speak—
he continues.
"If you wanted money," he says, almost dismissively,
"you should have come to me first."
A beat.
"I could've given you more than enough."
Silence settles between them—
thick, suffocating.
Because now—
this isn't just anger anymore.
It's accusation.
Without another word—
Ren pulls out his chequebook.
Signs it.
And throws the blank cheque onto her lap.
"Fill it."
His voice is flat. Unmoved.
"Whatever amount you want."
Erika stares at it, stunned.
"Get that video taken down," he continues,
each word measured, deliberate.
"Immediately."
A pause.
Then, colder—
"And make a statement."
His gaze locks onto hers.
"You'll say it was a deliberate attempt to damage Yuki's image."
"That you've been obsessed with him—"
his tone sharpens slightly,
"that you saw him drunk one night and created that clip using whatever you could get."
The words hit harder than any slap.
Calculated.
Cruel.
Ren leans back slightly, as if the matter is already settled.
"This ends today."
A beat.
"Take the money. Fix the mess."
Silence fills the car—
heavy, suffocating.
Because what he's offering isn't help.
It's control.
And what he's asking—
is far worse than the truth.
It feels like something sharp drives straight through my chest—
again and again.
The pain is unbearable.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… constant.
Suffocating.
"For God's sake…"
My breath trembles as I try to steady myself.
"Why is everything trying to break me all at once?"
My thoughts spiral—
too fast to hold onto.
The heartbreak.
The humiliation.
Seeing him… with his new life. His family.
Wasn't that enough?
Wasn't that already more than I could take?
And now this—
Being accused.
Painted as some desperate girl—
obsessed.
Manipulative.
Like I planned all of this.
"What kind of nonsense is that…?"
A bitter laugh escapes me, hollow and broken.
Because none of it—
none of it was ever what they think.
And yet—
I'm the one standing here,
taking the blame for everything.
"I'm not doing anything!"
The words tear out of me before I can stop them.
Before he can say another word—
I grab my phone and hurl it at him.
Not at him—
but at everything.
At the accusation.
At the humiliation.
At myself.
It hits him and falls, the sound sharp in the confined space.
"Why would I do this?" I demand, my voice cracking under the weight of everything.
"Why would I ruin someone's life when mine is already falling apart?"
My chest heaves, breaths uneven, uncontrollable.
"I didn't leak that video."
The words come out quieter this time—
but firmer.
More real than anything else I've said.
"I'm not the one who did this."
Her voice cracks, the weight of everything finally breaking through.
"I'm not someone who sells their dignity," she says, each word trembling but firm.
"Not for money. Not for anyone."
A shaky breath escapes her.
"And don't twist it into something ugly."
Her eyes glisten, but she doesn't look away.
"I don't think I did anything wrong by being there last night."
Silence hangs between them—
heavy, unresolved.
Before it can swallow her whole—
she reaches for the door.
It opens.
Cold air rushes in.
And then she's out.
Tears stream down her face, unstoppable now,
as she walks away—
not looking back.
Ren stays still for a moment after she leaves.
The silence in the car feels heavier than before.
"If she's not the one…"
he murmurs under his breath, brows tightening slightly.
"Then who leaked it?"
His jaw clenches.
This just got complicated.
Far more than he anticipated.
"Damn it…"
A quiet exhale escapes him, frustration finally slipping through the cracks of his composure.
His gaze drifts toward the door she walked out of—
lingering.
Thinking.
Recalculating.
"Yuki… you idiot," he mutters.
Because now—
this isn't just a scandal.
It's a problem he doesn't fully understand yet.