The next morning, the set of Moonlight Whispers was weighed down by a suffocating tension. News of the clip featuring Bonnie and Namtan had spread across social media since dawn, leaving no one in the crew able to feign ignorance.

The video had been edited with such precision that truth and fabrication blurred. Bonnie’s eyes glittered, her laughter ringing bright; compliments, ripped from their context, were spliced into images of Namtan listening intently. A few hazy camera angles completed the illusion—turning an innocent conversation into what looked like a secret love confession.

Hashtags exploded into the trending lists:
#BonnieCrushNamtan
#ScandalMoonlightWhispers
#DramaFilmCrew

And the comments cascaded like a waterfall:
“But Bonnie is Film’s little sister. How could this be?”
“I didn’t expect Namtan to get caught up in something like this.”
“With evidence this clear, how can they deny it?”

Fandom fractured into factions again, as it had during the casting switch months ago, but this storm was fiercer, crueler. Unlike then, Bonnie had never faced a scandal before.

---

Bonnie stared at her phone, her chest tightening as if weighed down by stone. Notifications pulsed without pause: messages, calls, social alerts. She curled up in her room, knees drawn close, her eyes fixed on the glowing screen filled with merciless words.

She had never felt this way before. In the past, criticism had circled her acting, her style, her appearance—but never her private life, never an attack on her as a person.

What… did I do wrong? The question beat endlessly in her mind. That clip—just a casual conversation—how had it transformed into the heart of a storm?

Fear seeped into her every breath, chilling her hands. Should she stay silent? Should she explain? Would anyone believe her either way?

But the wave did not stop with her. As Film’s younger sister, Bonnie dragged her along into the vortex.
“Both sisters… clearly something is going on.”
“Film knew and said nothing?”

From small fan pages to sprawling forums, Film’s name was entangled with Namtan and Bonnie’s.

---

In the break room, Namtan sat motionless. Light from the window fell across her shoulder, casting her face in stark relief. Her phone vibrated non-stop, management messages flooding in.

Finally, her manager called directly:
“Just like three years ago—stay silent to protect your image. Respond to nothing outside of the company statement.”

The words made Namtan pause. Silence—again. Once more letting someone else take the blow. Memories of the incident three years prior surged back, drowning her in helpless regret. If she stayed silent now, Bonnie would suffer the way Film had then. Yet if she spoke, would anyone believe?

That afternoon, Milk found her in the quiet prop room.

Arms crossed, eyes sharper than usual, she asked:
“Namtan, are you really going to stay silent again?”

Namtan drew a slow breath.
“The company insists. They say explaining will only fuel the fire.”

Milk frowned.
“You’ve seen it yourself—the quieter you are, the more people will believe whatever story they want. They’ll fill the silence with their own rumors.”

Namtan hesitated before answering.
“Last time, silence made everything worse. But this time… even if I speak the truth, who will believe?”

Milk tilted her head, voice steady:
“At least you’ll have tried. Do you still remember how it felt, three years ago?”

Namtan’s eyes lowered.
“Of course. And I don’t want Bonnie to go through what Film did.”

Milk sighed, stepping closer.
“Then don’t just sit still. Say something. Whether people believe or not, you’ll know you did the right thing.”

Namtan gave a faint, joyless smile.
“You make it sound so easy.”

Milk shrugged, lips quirking.
“That’s because I’m not the one standing in the storm. But maybe that’s why I can see it clearer.”

Something softened in Namtan’s gaze.
“… Thank you. For being honest.”

Milk patted her shoulder.
“Friends don’t let friends carry regret. Not this time.”

---

That evening, Namtan posted a statement on her personal page:
“Bonnie and I share no personal relationship beyond work. She merely admires me as an actress. Please, don’t over-interpret and harm those involved.”

The post was swallowed instantly by a flood of disbelief.
“Classic denial.”
“The evidence is clear—words mean nothing.”

No one listened. The fabricated video had been too convincing. People believed only what they wanted.

---

Meanwhile, Emi in the PR office worked without rest.
Her assistant reported:
“We can contact some major pages to slow the spread, but the rumors are already too strong.”

Emi nodded, her eyes hard with focus as she made calls and sent takedown requests. Yet when she reviewed the edited clips, doubt stirred inside her. Bonnie’s gaze, her words of admiration—was there truly nothing deeper? Could Bonnie actually harbor feelings for Namtan?

She shook the thought away. Not now. First, stop this from spiraling.

---

Late at night, Film went to Bonnie.

Bonnie sat curled in her chair, clutching her phone tight.

Film approached, voice soft:
“Are you alright?”

Bonnie shook her head, eyes red.

Film lowered herself beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t let them drag you down. Scandals pass, they always do. All you need to do is keep doing your work.”

Bonnie lifted her face, trembling.
“But they hate me… and now you’re caught in it too…”

Film smiled gently.
“I’ll be fine. What matters is that I believe in you. As long as we stand together, they can’t break us.”

Bonnie looked at her sister, sorrow flickering into fragile comfort. Film pulled her into a hug. Bonnie tensed at first, then slowly gave in, letting her sister’s warmth soothe her fear.

---

On the surface, the set carried on in the days that followed, but the air was thick with unease. Bonnie avoided the press. Film held fast in silence. Namtan kept working, outwardly calm yet shadowed in her eyes.

And in a quiet café, the mysterious woman sat in the corner. A laptop played the Bonnie–Namtan clip before her. Her finger froze on Bonnie’s face, lips curling into an ambiguous smile.

A soft laugh escaped her, tinged with both amusement and something far more dangerous.