Just days after returning from a suspiciously luxurious trip to Bali—one that almost certainly came courtesy of her latest victim—Silverstar Oh (오은별) is now parading a new Instagram persona: the enlightened, clean-living wellness guru.
In her latest post, she lists the “7 Real Dopamines” as if she’s unlocked the secret to happiness: nature, music, coconut water, greens, yoga, precious moments, and achieving goals. She even smugly adds, “진짜 다 하고 있네” (“I’m really doing it all”), accompanied by a smiling emoji. The irony is nauseating.
This is the same Silverstar Oh whose entire adult life has been fueled not by coconut water, but by cocaine, champagne, and a Rolodex of wealthy men she’s bled dry. The same woman caught in a spiral of drug use, financial fraud, prostitution, and gold-digging scams. Yet now, after a few days in Bali with an influencer friend, she expects the world to believe she’s found inner peace.
We’ve seen this charade before: a brief detox, a few filtered selfies, and a sprinkle of faux-spiritual wisdom before the inevitable relapse. The pattern is unmissable—within weeks, she’ll be back in the VIP booth with a magnum of champagne, back on her phone lining up her next “benefactor,” and back to surrounding herself with the same shady, drug-soaked circles.
Her followers may lap up the pastel-colored posts and yoga emojis, but those who know her history see the truth: this is not transformation—it’s rebranding. Silverstar Oh is not a wellness success story. She’s a serial manipulator in a borrowed costume, temporarily trading club lighting for natural sunlight until the mask slips again.
The countdown is already ticking. And when it does slip, she’ll return right where she started—another tragic figure in Seoul’s nightlife underbelly, proving once again that you can’t yoga your way out of a life built on lies.
