Episode 4 – “The Trap That Snaps”

Three days later, Jun-ho’s name dominated every news site.

Not for his courtroom triumphs.

Not for his sharp suits and impeccable reputation as Seoul’s most untouchable defense lawyer.

But for scandal.

Grainy photos filled the gossip forums: Jun-ho entering a luxury hotel at midnight, a woman slipping inside after him. Headlines screamed of secret affairs, ethical corruption, a lawyer who “sold justice in the courtroom while indulging in sin outside of it.”

Jun-ho leaned back in his office chair, scrolling through the articles with a lazy smirk. His secretary, pale with panic, wrung her hands.

“Sir, this could destroy your credibility—”

“Relax.” Jun-ho cut her off, tossing his phone onto the desk. “A scandal without teeth is just gossip. And gossip,” he drawled, adjusting his cufflinks, “is for people who need something interesting in their dull little lives.”

But inside, Jun-ho already knew whose signature this mess bore.

Aleksandr Volkov.

The Russian didn’t fight with whispers. He fought with ruin. And this had his brand written all over it.

That evening, Jun-ho arrived at the city’s most exclusive charity gala. He wore black silk that clung to him like temptation, his smile sharper than glass. The moment he entered, whispers swirled. Eyes narrowed. Fans fluttered.

Exactly as planned.

Because at the far end of the hall stood Aleksandr Volkov, a storm wrapped in a tailored suit, a glass of vodka glinting in his hand. His hazel eyes tracked Jun-ho with lethal calm, as though measuring the damage.

Jun-ho’s lips curved. A trap was only fun if you sprung it in front of its maker.

He crossed the room with deliberate grace, stopping just close enough that the crowd could sense the tension. “Ah,” Jun-ho murmured, bowing faintly, mocking in its elegance, “the puppeteer himself. Do you enjoy watching your strings tangle, Aleksandr?”

Aleksandr’s smile was cold, cruel. “Scandals spread quickly in this city. One rumor can destroy a man’s career. I wonder, lawyer, how much more your reputation can take before it cracks.”

Jun-ho leaned in, his voice velvet over steel. “Reputation? Unlike you, I don’t need fear to hold power. People trust me. They want to believe me. That’s something you can’t buy, blackmail, or shoot your way into.”

The onlookers gasped softly at his audacity.

But Jun-ho wasn’t finished.

“Besides,” he whispered near Aleksandr’s ear, his smirk widening, “you should’ve chosen a better actress. That ‘mystery woman’ you hired? She’s already confessed. On camera. To me.”

Aleksandr stilled, hazel eyes flashing.

Jun-ho’s words cut like a scalpel. “Tomorrow morning, every news outlet will see her testimony. She’ll say she was threatened into staging the scandal. Dragged into the role by men who, funnily enough… didn’t speak Korean very well. I wonder which foreign wolves she could be hinting at?”

A crack split Aleksandr’s glass. Vodka and blood spilled together across his hand.

Jun-ho brushed past him, his silk shoulder grazing Aleksandr’s deliberately. “Better luck next time, Volkov. If you want to break me, you’ll need more than a tabloid headline.”

The crowd parted around him as he left, whispers following like shadows.

Aleksandr stood frozen, his jaw locked, blood dripping onto the marble. Rage roared in his chest, but tangled within it was something far more dangerous.

Fascination.

This lawyer—this infuriating, reckless man—was supposed to be prey.

So why did Aleksandr feel like he was the one caught in the trap?

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