Y/n possesses the unique ability to hear lies, a gift she often considers more of a curse. This mysterious talent has been with her since birth, leaving her with a constant, sharp ringing in her ears whenever someone tells an untruth. Preferring a q...
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Taehyung dedicated a good portion of his life to finding the truth.
Journalism was something he took very seriously. When he had first entered the field, he was filled with excited wonder that he hadn't anticipated the dark side of journalism when corrupted individuals were pulling the strings. His boss had taken under-the-table payments to keep workers from digging into things that may have painted certain political names in a bad light. That was his first run-in with unethical journalism, shattering his naivete ideals on how he could change the world.
What made matters worse was the way his old boss would target the opposing politician and dig up dirt on them to incite a smear campaign of sorts. Tae didn't like that. He felt that every side of a story should be told—whether it's about a corrupt politician or a good samaritan doing something to uplift their community. Journalism, in essence, was meant to spread factual information and bring awareness about what's going on in the world.
Taehyung stood by that sentiment which is how he ended up here, starting his own publication to deliver the public the nitty-gritty news. All of the stories that come from his publication are thoroughly researched and, if needed, provides interviews from those directly involved in the matter. It's painted quite the target on his back from doing things his way.
"Mr. Kim, someone sent in a question to your excerpt about the Gwangalli incident." Saeko, an intern who works for Tae, announces from her desk.
Tae glances up with an arched brow. "Another false report, I'm assuming."
She shakes her head before bringing the laptop over to him, turning the screen to face him. Tae was skeptical about reading it. There's been many instances of people sharing their "insight" about the night that Ok So-hee disappeared, who later, was determined to have committed suicide. Tae had done his hardest to uncover as much information as he could, but like most journalists who don't have ties into the world of politics, he was met with a dead end. And then one fateful day, he was tossed a proverbial bone that had him gunning for the truth about this case again.
I know the boy in the picture. Did he really know Ok So-hee? Did they really date?
Tae re-reads the comment. It was an anonymous submission, so it's not like he could peek into what kind of account they ran. Tae reads over the question once more before his gaze slides over to Saeko, who stares at him with raised brows. "Reply back with mild intrigue." He instructs with a contemplative expression before adding, "If this is something worth looking into, we should at least give this person a chance."
Saeko nods. "If they want to meet up, should we schedule something?"
Tae considers his options. He wants the truth, and the possibility that someone knows the whereabouts of Jimin Park is intriguing enough that Tae is willing to halt the current story he's investigating if it means having a chance to speak with the guy. Jimin Park was the missing key to Ok So-hee's case. Despite Tae unearthing as much information about the case as he could, there were still holes in his investigative journalism. He knows why that is—-it all points to Assemblywoman Kwon.
