World - It’s Just Starting

It did not take long. The internet does not wait for truth. It waits for momentum.

By the next cycle of news refreshes, the images had already multiplied beyond control. Screenshots of screenshots, compressed and re-uploaded until the pixels blurred into suggestion. The angles were tighter this time. The lighting harsher. Faces still obstructed, but only just enough to allow imagination to do the rest.

The setting was unmistakable now.

A narrow path. Pale pavement. Night skies. A place that looked private without being secret. 

One image showed Caleb standing too close to a woman whose face was half-hidden by motion blur. Another caught her pulling away, hand slipping from his sleeve. A third froze the moment just after separation, his hand hovering uselessly in the air as if he had meant to say something and failed.

There was no kiss. No indecency, yet, the captions filled in what the photos did not.

‘PRIEST CAUGHT IN INTIMATE MOMENT WITH MYSTERY WOMAN’

‘SECOND INCIDENT RAISES SERIOUS QUESTIONS’

‘BREAKING: CLERGYMAN SEEN CONFRONTING WOMAN IN DARK ALLEYWAY’

The word “confronting” stuck, despite the lack of evidence.

Some kind comments are rare but existed.

‘We don’t know the context.’

‘This could be pastoral.’

‘Let’s not jump to conclusions.’

But those voices were drowned quickly.

Others softened their condemnation with pity.

‘He’s young.’

‘He was tempted.’

‘Loneliness does things to people.’

But even mercy had a direction.

‘She should have kept her distance.’

‘Why was she alone with him?’

‘Women need to respect boundaries.’

Forgiveness hovered around Caleb like a shield. Judgment sharpened around Aika.

The faithful arrived in force, cloaked in scripture and certainty.

‘This is spiritual warfare.’

‘The enemy often uses women.’

‘Jezebel spirits target righteous men.’

Someone quoted Proverbs out of context. Someone else explained confidently that female vulnerability was often performative. That repentance required removal. That holiness demanded separation.

A popular post read, ‘Men fall when women refuse to honor God’s order.’

‘This is just like the Adam and Eve debate.’

It gained traction fast.

Then came the fans. Caleb’s, not Aika’s. They had loved Caleb’s gentleness and the idea that he belonged to no one.

‘I feel deceived.’

‘He ruined what made him special.’

‘She took something that wasn’t hers.’

They demanded answers, names and consequences.

And then came the analysts. The ones who did not shout, but dissected.

They slowed the footage. Enhanced contrast. Noted proportions. Height against anything in the background. The way she held her shoulders. The way she stepped backward rather than shrinking inward.

‘She’s trained.’

‘Look at her balance.’

‘That’s not civilian movement.’

Someone overlaid stills beside old idol performance clips. Not identical but close enough.

‘Am I the only one seeing this?’

The comment disappeared. The screenshots didn’t.

Another account posted, ‘She moves like someone used to cameras.’

Replies piled up.

‘An idol?’

‘Former idol, maybe.’

‘That posture doesn’t go away.’

Someone dug deeper. Archived fan forums resurfaced. Old rumors. Unresolved scandals. Names long buried but never erased.

‘There was a girl who vanished after a fake scandal years ago.’

‘Never defended.’

‘Never cleared.’

No one said her name yet. Speculation grew teeth.

‘If it’s her, this makes sense.’

‘She’s always been trouble.’

‘These types don’t change.’

Women who looked vaguely similar were dragged into threads and torn apart until corrections arrived too late to matter. Apologies were always quiet. Damage spoke louder.

After not finding their woman, the cruelty escalated.

‘She’s a predator.’

‘You can tell by how she stands.’

‘Women like that always target men with status.’

One vicious comment rose higher than the rest.

‘She should disappear for good.’

Others followed.

‘He deserves protection.’

‘She deserves exposure.’

‘Find her.’

The word find replaced who. Media outlets adjusted accordingly. Panels stopped asking what happened. They asked why women like this were allowed near sacred spaces at all.

‘We still don’t know her identity,’ anchors said, carefully.

‘But the internet has theories.’

Theories did a lot of work.

Meanwhile, maps circulated. Schedules were shared. Familiar locations in Izu appeared with pins and timestamps.

‘If you see her, don’t engage.’

‘Just document.’

Document. As if she were evidence. As if she were prey.

And beneath the noise, something quieter moved. A journalist stopped posting and started saving. A lawyer read the threads without commenting. A woman with political reach looked at the trajectory and got ready in the shadows. 

The world, confident it would identify her, that she would crumble, felt triumphant. They never consider that silence can also mean gathering strength.