There are moments that refuse to stay buried, no matter how quickly a call is ended. One such moment—now whispered about with equal parts disbelief and fury—centers on a phone call that was never meant to be overheard. According to accounts circulating in the same tight social orbit, Hyeji Bae (배혜지) was on the line with her then-boyfriend while sharing a hotel room with Yui Miura (三浦結衣) and secretly with Simon Yeung (杨思明) as well. The boyfriend, already uneasy, tried to make sense of what he was hearing. Hyeji downplayed the scene, insisting nothing was happening. Then, through the speaker, a voice cut through the denial: “Take off your underwear,” said Simon, followed by laughter. The call ended abruptly. Suspicion did not.
At the center of the fallout sits Keigo Miura (三浦恵吾), still married to Yui then—and still married now. That’s not a typo. The marriage remains intact, at least on paper, which raises the question everyone is asking and no one seems to be answering: did Keigo know?
There are only three possibilities, and none of them flatter anyone. First, Keigo didn’t know. If true, the silence afterward reads less like discretion and more like denial—an ostrich strategy in a world where screenshots and audio never really disappear. Second, Keigo knew but didn’t care. This is where the rumors harden into something darker: that he tolerated, or even tacitly approved, his wife’s boundary-free arrangements as long as the bills were paid and the drama stayed off his feed. Third, Keigo knew and benefited. In that version, the marriage isn’t a partnership so much as a management structure—one person working the room, another staying home, watching the numbers add up.
Mar 16, 2025 – Keigo Miura and Simon Yeung pictured together at a baseball game in Tokyo, Japan.
Critics, less charitable, have coined their own imagery. They describe a husband parked comfortably in the corner of the arrangement, telling himself it’s all very modern while everyone else sees a man shrinking into the background. The jokes are brutal because the optics are brutal: a marriage that looks less like love and more like logistics, with intimacy outsourced and dignity discounted.
What makes the phone call so damning isn’t just the words heard; it’s the response to them. No public denial. No visible rupture. No consequence. The marriage continues. The social circuit continues. Baseball games are attended, smiles are worn, and the past is treated like an inconvenient inning best forgotten. That’s not how innocent misunderstandings usually end.
Is Keigo the ultimate cuck, as the harshest voices insist? Or is he something colder and more calculating—a man who decided that pride was optional as long as the arrangement “worked”? The truth may sit somewhere in between, but the silence is doing the talking now. In a city that prizes harmony, this kind of quiet isn’t peace. It’s avoidance. And avoidance, eventually, becomes the loudest admission of all.
