Shattering the Frame

The Blue House press center was wrapped in tension thick enough to suffocate.

Tat-tat-tat-tat!

The moment I stepped up to the podium, hundreds of camera flashes erupted like machine-gun fire.

My eyes stung from the blinding light, but I didn't flinch.

Down below, in the front row, sat top government officials led by Chief of Staff for State Affairs Park Jin-su, their faces pale as ghosts.

Their eyes were pleading.

'Please, go easy on us.'

But I had no intention of granting that mercy.

I gripped the microphone and spoke calmly.

"Today, I stand here as a victim."

The room fell silent in an instant, like water dousing a fire.

"I'll show you how a massive state institution used taxpayer money to socially assassinate one individual."

I pressed the remote.

The giant screen behind me lit up with the first PPT slide.

Raw numbers. Brutal details of funds spent smearing and attacking me.

"A state agency targeted a specific individual. The pretext was women's rights, but the reality was departmental self-interest."

I pointed at the numbers on the screen.

"Look. Is this really support for victims?"

Each line was jaw-dropping.

"They didn't just hire lawyers for my ex-wife with public funds—they even funded styling for her victim cosplay."

The clatter of reporters' keyboards poured like rain.

I lowered my tone further, infusing it with cold, sunken rage.

"I want to ask the Ministry of Gender Equality: Did you empathize with Ji-su's pain, or did you just use her?"

"......"

"You're like parasites that can't exist without conflict. If men and women get along, you lose your budget justification—so you manufacture hatred where there was none."

I stared straight at the government officials.

"Like shamans performing rain rituals only when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it's dry, weren't you praying for someone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to suffer?"

Gasps erupted in the room.

The intensity was high.

But not a word was wrong.

"Protecting women's rights? No. You just fattened your own bellies by selling women's suffering."

Flashes exploded wildly.

The ministry's moral credibility was being shredded beyond repair.

Without giving them a breath, I hit the remote for the next target.

Her photo appeared alongside a chart summarizing our grudge.

"Judicial justice? What a joke."

I snapped coldly.

"The judge abused the power of the law for personal revenge because I challenged her ruling. She instigated a criminal complaint instead of civil, and issued an absurd arrest warrant."

I scanned the room.

"Was the verdict I got back then truly legitimate?"

I posed the fundamental question of the verdict's justice.

The screen changed.

Statistics on divorce rulings by Judge Choi Hyun-jin over the past five years.

The graph was grotesque.

No matter the at-fault spouse or the cause, it didn't matter.

She sliced it mechanically in half.

"Look. This is the reality of family courts in Korea."

I raised my voice.

"How is it justice when the at-fault spouse who destroyed the family walks away with equal assets from the victim?"

"Bad laws are still laws? I can't agree. No law anywhere lets the perpetrator profit more than the victim."

I gripped the mic and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyed the reporters.

"What is the core principle of the law?"

A brief silence fell.

"The perpetrator compensates the victim to restore their harm. That's justice, that's the principle."

I continued coldly.

"If you assault a stranger on the street, the attacker pays medical bills until recovery and compensation. That's common sense."

I pointed at the judge's face on the screen.

"But in divorce court alone, no one cares about the victim's pain and scars. Korea's consolation damages cap? A measly 30 million won."

The reporters' murmurs grew louder.

"Destroying a family and inflicting irremovable wounds on your spouse's heart—for the price of a mid-range car. Meanwhile, asset division?"

I let out a hollow laugh.

"The fault was theirs, yet assets are split precisely down the middle."

"That's why there's that saying: Five years for cost-performance, ten for half."

The raw internet slang made the officials' faces flush red.

But I didn't stop.

"Mocking phrases like 'Endure five years of marriage for good value, ten and you take half.' Is this the law of a normal country?"

I clenched my fist.

"This isn't treatment—it's like the puncher demanding the punched pay for their broken fist. Common sense: Would anyone accept a ruling giving half their money to their attacker? Of course they'd rebel."

I displayed Judge Choi Hyun-jin's rulings on screen.

Copied and pasted, identical down to the punctuation.

I declared firmly.

"Laws that don't wipe victims' tears but fill perpetrators' pockets. Judges hiding behind them, wielding power with biased ideology."

I drew a deep breath and drove in the final nail.

"They should vanish from Korean courts forever."

Flashes rained down like a storm.

My rage wasn't personal.

It was the cry of countless divorce victims in this land.

And the third screen.

"The police who illegally detained me at the airport."

I let out a scoff.

"The police chief promised severe punishment for those involved. But what was the reality?"

A new photo appeared on screen.

Jeju Island's blue sea.

A woman beaming innocently with a V-sign in a rapeseed flower field.

Officer Kim Min-ji's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠personal SNS post.

Timestamp: Three days ago.

While I was shedding tears at the funeral hall, sending off my grandmother.

"Vacation."

I spat the word.

"Discipline? Punishment? Not a chance. Chief Lee Cheol-su sent them on leave the moment the scandal broke. Dodge the storm, classic cover for their own."

I pointed at smiling Kim Min-ji on screen.

"Look. While I shivered on the detention floor, the abusers of public power collected taxpayer salaries and healed in Jeju."

I tightened my grip on the mic.

My rage cooled into a sharp dagger.

"Causing diplomatic issues with their ideology, then crying 'what do I do' without accountability before jetting off on vacation."

"That's why people call for abolishing female officers."

The officials' faces turned ashen, but I pressed on.

"Releasing criminals, jailing victims. An organization too busy covering for each other despite wrongdoing."

I snapped icily.

"That's why the public calls you not police, but 'watchdogs'."

Flashes went berserk.

A critique aimed at the entire Korean police force.

Police officials couldn't lift their heads; the briefing room boiled with shock and fury.

I brought up the final screen.

The ugliest truth.

Their affectionate photo side-by-side with the ministry's support document.

"My ex-wife Ji-su. And her affair partner, actor Kim Min-jun."

Reporters' eyes widened.

The room buzzed at the actor's name.

"Ji-su colluded with the ministry to paint me as the bad husband, appearing on broadcasts in victim cosplay."

I sneered.

"In return, the ministry slotted her lover into dramas. With your taxes."

The screen showed Kim Min-jun's upcoming dramas and ministry sponsorship details.

Ironclad evidence.

"A world where family-wreckers thrive with state support."

I gripped the mic harder.

"Is this the just Korea you want?"

Silence.

Not even breathing in the press center.

I slowly closed the laptop.

"I'll leave the judgment to you, the public."

I twisted my lips into a smirk and added one last line.

"That concludes the press conference. Questions?"

Hands shot up like a wave.

"Me!"

"Over here! Mr. Kim Ji-hoon!"

I leisurely scanned, then pointed at the man right in front.

"Yes, you there?"

He met my gaze as the moderator swiftly handed him a mic.

"Hello. SBC reporter Choi Ho-young."

He cleared his throat nervously.

"Due to the fallout from your illegal detention, many citizens and businesses are suffering. US visa restrictions and sanctions—when do you see them lifting?"

A solid question.

Students abroad and businessmen were desperate for resolution.

I smiled faintly.

"Immediately after this conference."

"......!"

"Me standing here means the agreement between Korea and the US is done. Visa services resume this afternoon."

"Woooaaah!"

The room flipped 180 degrees at my confirmation.

Business reps in the back cheered and hugged.

For them, it was like surviving a bolt from the blue.

I watched, then grabbed the mic again.

"Yes, next?"

This time, the opposite side.

A plump female reporter with a sharp glint shot her hand up.

"Hello. MCC News reporter Koo Bo-ra."

MCC?

I furrowed my brow for a split second.

I remembered.

The station that barged into my hospital room during the terror incident, filming without permission.

That hack was probably still in a US jail.

A colleague?

"Yes, your question."

With the mic, Koo Bo-ra fired aggressively, like she'd been waiting.

"Great conference. But one thing I'm curious about."

She adjusted her glasses.

"Could you explain why Kim Ji-hoon hates women?"

"......?"

The buzzing room went dead silent, like ice water poured over it.

I was stunned.

What? Hidden cam?

Until now, my PPTs exposed abuse of power and corrupt ties.

Out of nowhere, woman-hating?

What the hell? Mind blown. Such a low-level question has me losing it, fuck.

As I stared without answering, Koo Bo-ra pressed on.

"From what you've shown, you've often demeaned and hated women, especially Korean women. What's the reason?"

Ah.

She wants a fight.

Twisting the narrative, framing me.

Not an innocent victim, but a woman-hater who brought it on himself.

Classic tactic from their side.

I suppressed a scoff and raised the mic.

"I fucking love women, though?"