The situation was clearly more complicated than it looked, and the crowd seemed to sense something boiling under the surface. Rumors had been circulating online that the famous model Dao was entangled with Jinsung. They had been seen together countless times, from small web projects to casting sessions for an upcoming Korea–Vietnam film collaboration.
Truth be told, Jinsung wasn't anyone big in Korea. He'd come to Vietnam mostly by luck, selling himself as a model. His acting? Terrible—plain and simple. The only reasons he'd gotten this far were Dao's favoritism as his girlfriend and that shiny "Made in Korea" label. Behind the scenes, he was just a hollow name with no substance.
Yet today, Jinsung stumbled onto the set right after the commercial shoot had wrapped—sloppy, drunk, and ridiculous. Phones shot up instantly; people livestreamed and filmed on Xaiber like crazy. The director panicked, waving staff members over to stop the crowd, but it was hopeless.
"Good lord, Jinsung!"
The director hissed, dragging him aside.
"Do you have any idea what time it is!? You're late! Don't make a scene—just go home!"
But Jinsung only laughed, shaking him off. Still reeking of alcohol, his face tightened with irritation.
"What are you talking about? I came here to film. Why are you chasing me off?" He staggered toward Dao.
Dao—platinum hair gleaming under the lights—shot him a withering glare. Whatever affection she once had for him had burned out hours ago. She was a decisive woman, and though she'd already broken up with him over the phone, he clearly hadn't accepted it. The stench of liquor said he'd been drinking even more. Suddenly, he lunged to grab her.
"My love—"
"What...the HELL!?"
Caught off guard, Dao struggled as Jinsung wrapped his arms around her—tightening them deliberately in front of the gawking crowd.
"Help! Someone—help!" Dao cried, helpless.
Seeing things spiral, Yaochi studio staff rushed in—along with Duyen. Several crew members wrestled Jinsung back while Dao stumbled straight into Duyen's arms, trembling.
Dao flushed with embarrassment when she realized who was holding her. Yet something in her gut told her she was safe with Duyen…
Shana, arms folded, watched with interest. Not angry, not intervening—just waiting for the drama to unfold, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"What the hell are you doing!?"
Jinsung roared, thrashing like a rabid bear.
"I'm the lead actor! Why are you holding me back!?" His drunken rage only made his true colors clearer. Spotting Dao in Duyen's arms, he exploded.
"Who the hell are you!? Why are you holding my girlfriend!?"
Duyen's eyes narrowed as Jinsung lashed out, kicking wildly. She shielded Dao and pulled her away. But Dao knew she couldn't hide forever—this drunken bastard had to be dealt with.
She pushed herself free from Duyen, turning on Jinsung with cold fury.
"Yes. We're over, Jinsung. Who I'm with is none of your business anymore."
"Don't say that, Dao," he pleaded. "We're not finished until I say so…"
He couldn't let her go. Without her, his cushy life in Vietnam was finished. Back in Korea, he'd drowned in debt after botched stock investments, chased by loan sharks until he fled here. Dao—daughter of a high-ranking general, heiress of a powerful family—was his golden ticket. She had money, power, and beauty. To a man like him, clinging to her was like striking gold.
"Please forgive me," he begged. "Are you really dumping me just because I had one drink too many?"
Dao burst out laughing—mocking, cruel.
"Are you stupid, or just... blind? You think I'm so desperate I'd settle for a washed-up Korean drunk?"
"Huh?" He froze, stunned.
"Listen carefully. It's not because you're a drunk. It's not because you're broke—walking around with ten thousand won and begging for free bies on Bui Vien Street. It's not even the flirty messages you thought I wouldn't notice with those wannabe influencers betchs. Or the fact that the bank laughed in your face when you begged for another loan. No, Jinsung. The truth is simple. I, Dao, am bored of you. That's it."
"Bored…? What the hell are you saying?" His face twisted in disbelief.
"WHAT GIVES A WOMAN LIKE YOU THE RIGHT TO LOOK DOWN ON ME?!" he suddenly roared, startling the crowd.
"Please, Jinsung!" the director begged. "Just go home!"
But Dao's temper snapped.
"Go on then! Shout louder! LOUDER! You think I'm scared? Hit me if you dare!"
"Don't think I won't!"
His pride shredded, his drunken fury surged. Towering over everyone, he shook free from the crew. With shocking strength, he hurled four staffers aside and grabbed a chair, throwing it at Dao.
"Ah!"
She ducked, narrowly avoiding it.
But he wasn't done. Storming forward, he raised his hand to strike her—hard. Dao froze; she couldn't dodge.
Smack!
The slap rang out—but it wasn't Dao who took it.
"DUYEN!?"
Blood trickled from Duyen's lip as she shoved Dao behind her.
"Stay back," she ordered, shielding her.
Jinsung snarled. He hadn't even realized Duyen was a woman—and didn't care. Male or female, he would crush anyone in his way. He swung a heavy hook. Duyen blocked, but his reach was too long; the blow to her head dropped her. She was strong, taller than most—but against a foreign man trained in the military, she was outmatched.
"You weak piece of trash," he sneered.
"DUYEN!" Dao broke free from the staff, desperate. She couldn't let him hurt Duyen again—she owed her too much.
But before Jinsung could land a vicious kick, a voice sliced through the chaos.
"Hey…"
It was soft—so soft no one else heard it. Only Jinsung froze, dazed. A woman approached: flowing red-brown hair that seemed to burn brighter with each step, beauty dripping from every curve. A strange, intoxicating fragrance wrapped around her like a spell.
Shana.
"Looks like your muscles grew faster than your brain," she purred.
Jinsung's mind clouded, intoxicated by her presence. He could barely register her words. Shana smirked, circling him like a predator.
"Normally, I'd just hand a guy like you to the cops. But you…? Hmmm."
She leaned close, whispering into his ear. The crowd craned their necks, dying to know.
"…Go to the nearest intersection, drop your pants, raise your hands, and yell 'I'm Spider-Man and I'm high on drugs.'"
To everyone's shock, Jinsung nodded obediently and stumbled away, vanishing into the crowd.
Dao blinked in confusion, then rushed to cradle Duyen.
"Are you okay?"
She asked softly, guilt heavy in her voice.
Duyen forced a smile, blood on her lip. "It's nothing. Barely stings."
"Barely!? You're bleeding! Let me see—"
Shana's heels clicked as she stepped up.
"Move," she ordered, pushing Dao aside.
"What the—!?"
Her hand cupped Duyen's cheek, voice tender. "Does it hurt?"
Her sapphire eyes softened. She was so close that Duyen's face flushed red.
"A little," she admitted.
Shana suddenly pinched her cheeks, making her yelp.
"Ow! Easy!"
"You idiot!" Shana snapped, though her hands lingered gently. "Why always throw yourself in harm's way like that!?"
Dao bristled. "Hey! Go easy on her!"
Shana shot her a side-eye. "And whose fault is this in the first place, huh?"
Dao froze, ashamed. She couldn't deny it. Twice now, Duyen had gotten hurt saving her. Now Dao doesn't know what to say to Mina after this.
Shana sighed, both hands cupping Duyen's face now, softer.
"Foolish girl… Take better care of yourself. Stop sacrificing everything for others."
Duyen chuckled through the pain. "I know. Just this once."
But Shana knew better. Duyen would always throw herself into danger. That reckless kindness… was exactly why she loved her.
The chaotic shoot ended there.
---
After that evening, social media blew up. Rumors swirled about Dao and Jinsung—and the mysterious gorgeous tomboy who had stepped in. Some even claimed Jinsung had been seen at an intersection with his pants down, screaming like a lunatic. Police had detained him, but the official report chalked it all up to alcohol.
Videos and photos vanished within hours—scrubbed clean by Dao's PR team. But rumors lingered. Now netizens are calling Jinsung with all sorts of different perverted names. Many people are also asking for information about Duyen, but they can't find much information about her other than the pictures they took of her before the commercial shoot. And inevitably, they reached Mina.
In her luxury penthouse, Mina sat before her MacBook, listening calmly to Dao's voice over the phone.
"…That's how it went. Duyen saved me again. It was all such a mess, but… she really is a good person."
"Mm,"
Mina replied evenly, her face unreadable. But something in her tone made Dao panic.
"Wait—Mina! Don't get the wrong idea! I swear, it's not like that with me and Duyen! She's nice, but she's not my type! Don't misunderstand, okay?"
Dao flushed red as the words spilled out, not even sure why she felt the need to explain.
Mina was silent for a beat, then suddenly burst into laughter.
"My my, Dao… why are you explaining yourself to me? I know you're not into her. You're straight. I know"
Relief flooded Dao. "Uh...Yes! Of course I'm straight! No way I'd like her."
Though, oddly, her voice wavered.
"It's fine," Mina said, still laughing, she opening a new file on her laptop.
"You've just had a rough day, that's all. Anyway, sorry—I've got a work call. Talk later?"
"Yeah, later, Mina."
Mina smiled as she ended the call. Even afterward, her smile lingered—tinged with something darker.
"Of course, Dao… because you'd never betray me. You're far too loyal friend..."
On her screen, a video played: Duyen shielding Dao, taking a slap in her place. The footage had been wiped from the internet—but Mina somehow had it.
"I trust you, my dear. By the way…"
Her eyes flicked to her phone. A message glowed on the screen:
[We dealt with her. The video's gone.]
In a dark alley in Starfall, a girl in a pink cute dress lay face-down in a pool of blood. Her pigtails were matted with dirt, footprints, and bloodstains.
Beside her, a crushed phone lay silent. It was trampled to pieces like its owner.