The interrogation room smelled like bleach and cheap coffee.
Yoo-jin sat handcuffed to a steel table. The mirror on the wall was one-way glass, but he knew who was behind it. Not the police.
The door opened. A man in a sharp gray suit walked in. He wasn't a detective. He was a lawyer from Zenith Global.
"Mr. Han," the lawyer smiled, placing a file on the table. "Or should I call you Subject 734? The cloning records are fascinating."
"Call me the plaintiff," Yoo-jin said calmly. "I'm suing for wrongful arrest."
"On what grounds? You don't exist," the lawyer opened the file. "Fingerprints match a corpse. DNA matches a corpse. Legally, you are a ghost. And ghosts don't have rights."
He slid a photo across the table. It was Sae-ri, sitting in the adjacent cell. She looked tired, but her chin was up.
"Ms. Jung, however, is very real," the lawyer tapped the photo. "And very much in trouble. Aiding and abetting an identity thief. Obstruction of justice. We can make all of that go away."
"Let me guess," Yoo-jin leaned forward, the cuffs rattling. "If I sign Starforce over to Mason."
"Starforce is worthless," the lawyer laughed. "No, Mr. Gold wants a public confession. You admit you brainwashed her. You admit the 'Resistance' was a scam to steal investor money. You plead guilty to fraud."
"And Sae-ri?"
"She goes to rehab. We release a statement saying she was suffering from 'Stockholm Syndrome.' Her career survives. She becomes the face of our new Mental Health awareness campaign."
It was a perfect trap. Destroy Yoo-jin's legacy to save Sae-ri's future.
Yoo-jin looked at the mirror. He imagined Sae-ri on the other side.
"Can I make a phone call?" Yoo-jin asked.
"To who? Your lawyer is hiding in a basement."
"To the public," Yoo-jin said. "I want to confess live."
The lawyer's eyes lit up. This was better than a signature. A live stream confession from the police station? It would break the internet.
"I'll arrange it," the lawyer stood up. "Five minutes."
Five minutes later, a webcam was set up on the table. The Zenith lawyer stood behind the camera, nodding encouragingly.
"We're live," the lawyer mouthed.
Yoo-jin looked into the lens. He saw the view count ticking up. 2 million. 5 million. The world wanted to see the monster apologize.
"My name is Han Yoo-jin," he began. His voice was steady.
"I am a clone. I was created in a lab called the Incubator. My serial number is 734."
The lawyer nodded. Good. Keep going.
"But the man who died five years ago... the original Han Yoo-jin... he didn't die in an accident. He was murdered because he found out the government was using idols to control you."
The lawyer's smile vanished. He lunged for the camera.
Yoo-jin leaned back, kicking the table. It slammed into the lawyer's shins.
"The police report is fake!" Yoo-jin shouted, speaking fast. "Mason Gold is using the Muse Engine to rewrite news articles in real-time! Check the timestamps! The articles appeared three seconds before the police were dispatched!"
The feed cut to black.
The lawyer tackled Yoo-jin, slamming his head against the table.
"You idiot!" the lawyer screamed. "You just buried yourself!"
"Did I?" Yoo-jin spat blood. "Or did I just give them a plot twist?"
In the adjacent cell, Sae-ri heard the commotion.
She was huddled on the bench, her dress torn from the arrest. A female officer stood guard outside the bars.
"He's crazy," the officer muttered, checking her phone. "He just confessed to being a clone on live TV."
Sae-ri stood up. She walked to the bars.
"What are the comments saying?" she asked.
The officer looked at her, surprised. She hesitated, then turned the phone screen.
The internet detectives were waking up. The scandal was too perfect. The evidence was too clean.
"Officer," Sae-ri said softly. "Do you watch Starlight Destiny?"
The officer blinked. "Yeah. I love River."
"River is an AI," Sae-ri said. "He doesn't have a heartbeat. But I do. And the man in the next room does."
She reached through the bars.
"Please. Let me see him."
The officer looked at the phone. She looked at the article about the "Predator." Then she looked at Sae-ri's eyes. They weren't the eyes of a victim. They were the eyes of a woman in love.
"I can't open the door," the officer whispered. "But I can leave the room for coffee."
She walked away.
Sae-ri stretched her arm through the bars as far as she could.
"Yoo-jin!" she yelled.
"I'm here!" his voice came through the vent.
"The comments!" Sae-ri shouted. "They're fact-checking! You started a fire!"
"Good!" Yoo-jin yelled back. "Now we burn the script!"
Outside the station, the crowd was growing.
It wasn't just press anymore. It was the fans. The "Glitches." Kids with dyed hair, holding signs that said #WeAreNotOptimized and #FreeTheGhost.
Min-ji stood in the crowd, wearing a hoodie. She had her guitar case.
"The perimeter is tight," Eden whispered beside her. "They are moving them to a secure facility in an hour."
"We can't let them get on that transport," David Kim said, sweating in his disguise. "Once they're in the Zenith black site, they vanish."
"So we block the road?" Sol asked.
"No," Min-ji unzipped her case. "We hold a concert."
"Here?" Luna asked. "It's a police station!"
"It's a captive audience," Min-ji grinned.
She plugged her guitar into a battery-powered amp. She climbed onto the roof of a parked news van.
STRUM.
The chord cut through the siren noise. The crowd turned.
"This is for the prisoners!" Min-ji screamed.
She started playing "Riot," the song that had started it all. But she played it acoustic, raw, and angry.
Sol and Luna climbed up next to her. They didn't have mics. They just sang at the top of their lungs.
The crowd joined in. Five thousand voices screaming the chorus.
Inside the station, the walls vibrated.
Yoo-jin heard it. He smiled through his bloody lip.
The lawyer was pacing, furious, on the phone with Mason.
"Sir, the situation is degrading. The public sentiment is shifting. They're treating him like a martyr."
Click.
The door opened.
A police captain walked in. He looked tired. He held a piece of paper.
"Release him," the captain said.
The Zenith lawyer dropped his phone. "What?"
"The DA refused to press charges," the captain said. "He said the evidence is 'algorithmically suspect'. And he doesn't want a riot on his steps."
"You can't do this!" the lawyer shrieked. "He's a clone!"
"Show me the law that says clones can't walk free," the captain shrugged. "Get out of my station."
He unlocked Yoo-jin's cuffs.
"Get your girlfriend and go," the captain muttered. "Before I change my mind."
Yoo-jin rubbed his wrists. He stood up.
"Thank you, Captain."
"Don't thank me," the captain pointed to the window. "Thank them."
Outside, the crowd was chanting.
Yoo-jin walked out of the room. Sae-ri was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
She looked at him. At the blood on his lip.
She didn't ask if he was okay. She just grabbed his tie and pulled him into a hug.
"Next time," she whispered into his ear, "I write the press release."
They walked out of the front doors hand in hand.
The roar was deafening. Flashbulbs blinded them. Min-ji stopped playing.
Yoo-jin raised his hand. The crowd went silent.
He didn't give a speech. He didn't defend himself.
He just pointed at the Zenith Tower looming in the distance across the city.
"We're coming for the rest of the story," Yoo-jin said.
That night, back at the basement, the mood was somber.
The victory felt fragile. They were free, but they were branded. The "Clone" label would follow Yoo-jin forever. The "Victim" label would haunt Sae-ri.
"We need to pivot," Yoo-jin said, pacing the room. "The scandal arc is over. Now we enter the redemption arc."
"How?" David Kim asked. "No investor will touch us. We're too toxic."
"We don't need investors," Yoo-jin said. "We need distribution."
He turned to the server rack.
"So-young, is the Pirate App ready?"
"It's beta," So-young said. "But it works. A decentralized streaming platform. Hosted on the phones of the users. Uncensorable."
"Launch it," Yoo-jin ordered.
"What do we put on it?" Sae-ri asked. "We haven't filmed the movie yet."
"We put the truth on it," Yoo-jin said.
He looked at Eden.
"Eden, sit in the chair."
Eden sat in front of the camera.
"Tell them," Yoo-jin said. "Tell them about the Leviathan. About the Siblings. About the factory."
Eden looked into the lens.
"My name is Subject One," Eden began. "And I have 11 brothers and sisters who are slaves."
The stream went live.
Within minutes, the app downloads crashed the app store.
Yoo-jin watched the numbers climb. He felt Sae-ri's hand on his back.
"You're not a ghost anymore," she said.
"No," Yoo-jin agreed. "I'm a glitch."
He looked at the screen. The war wasn't over. But for the first time, he wasn't fighting to be perfect. He was fighting to be real.
And real was winning.