The police car smelled of stale coffee and cheap vinyl.
Yoo-jin sat in the back, handcuffed. He watched the BK Building recede into the distance through the rain-streaked window. Sae-ri was still standing on the curb, screaming at the officers, her silhouette shrinking until it was just a smudge of defiance against the gray city.
"You're quiet," Detective Choi said from the front seat. He adjusted the rearview mirror to glare at Yoo-jin. "Usually guys like you are screaming about lawyers."
"I'm saving my voice," Yoo-jin leaned his head against the glass.
He wasn't worried about jail. Jail was just a room with bad acoustics. He was worried about the glitch.
Not the song. The literal glitch he saw in Mason's eyes right before the paramedics took him.
It wasn't defeat. It was relief.
Why would a megalomaniac smile when his empire burned?
"Turn on the radio," Yoo-jin said.
"This ain't a taxi service."
"I want to hear the news," Yoo-jin pressed. "About the tower."
The detective grunted but flipped the dial.
...breaking news. Zenith Chairman Mason Gold has been declared catatonic following the server incident... stock prices are in freefall... but sources say the Board of Directors has already appointed an interim CEO...
"Interim CEO?" Yoo-jin sat up. The cuffs dug into his wrists.
Mason had purged the board months ago. There was no one left. Who had the clearance to take over Zenith Global in the middle of a meltdown?
...the new leadership has announced a partnership with the Ministry of National Defense to secure the unstable Violet Signal technology...
"Stop the car," Yoo-jin said.
"Yeah, right."
"Stop the car!" Yoo-jin kicked the partition. "It's a trap! The police aren't taking me to the station, are they?"
Detective Choi didn't answer. He just locked the doors.
Yoo-jin looked out the window. They weren't heading toward the Gangnam Precinct. They were heading toward the highway. North. toward the DMZ.
"Who paid you?" Yoo-jin asked, his voice cold.
"Zenith pays better than a pension," Choi muttered. He pulled out a radio. "Package secured. ETA twenty minutes to the Black Site."
Yoo-jin looked at his hands. Handcuffed. No phone. No Eden. No Min-ji.
He closed his eyes.
Think. You're a producer. You're in a bad contract. How do you void it?
He looked at the partition. It was reinforced plexiglass. But the seats were fabric.
Yoo-jin slid his hands under his legs, bringing his cuffed hands to the front. He reached into his pocket.
Empty. They had confiscated everything.
Except one thing.
In his jacket breast pocket, a single guitar pick. Min-ji had shoved it in there for good luck before the raid.
It was a heavy gauge. Plastic. Sharp.
Yoo-jin wedged the pick into the keyhole of the handcuffs. It wasn't a key, but these were old cuffs. The tumblers were loose.
Click.
One hand free.
"Hey," Yoo-jin knocked on the glass. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Puke on the floor, you clean it up," Choi didn't look back.
Yoo-jin waited until the car hit a curve. He lunged.
He didn't attack the detective. He attacked the steering wheel.
He reached through the small gap in the partition and jerked the wheel hard to the right.
"What the hell!"
The car swerved. It slammed into the guardrail.
CRUNCH.
Airbags deployed. Dust and smoke filled the cabin.
Yoo-jin didn't wait. He kicked the door open. He rolled out onto the wet asphalt of the highway.
His head was spinning. Blood trickled down his forehead.
He stood up. The police car was smoking, the front end crumpled. Detective Choi was groaning inside.
Yoo-jin ran.
He jumped the guardrail and slid down the muddy embankment into the forest below. He needed to get off the grid.
He needed a phone.
Two Hours Later. A Gas Station in Gyeonggi-do.
Yoo-jin stood by the payphone, shivering in his ruined suit. He had stolen 500 won from a vending machine change slot.
He dialed the only number that was safe.
"Pizza Heaven, we deliver in 30 minutes or it's free."
"I'd like to order a topping," Yoo-jin whispered. "Extra Glitch."
Silence on the line. Then, a familiar robotic voice.
"Boss?" N3KO asked. "You're supposed to be in jail."
"I escaped," Yoo-jin said. "Listen to me. Mason wasn't the final boss. He was the scapegoat."
"What do you mean?"
"The Ministry took over Zenith. They have the Violet Signal source code. They're going to weaponize it for the military."
"That's bad," N3KO typed furiously in the background. "Wait. I'm seeing movement on the Zenith servers. Someone is initiating a 'Recall'."
"Recall of what? The signal is down."
"Not the signal," N3KO's voice dropped. "The hardware."
"Hardware?"
"The clones, Yoo-jin. They're activating the dormant clones."
Yoo-jin froze. The cold rain felt like ice.
"Where?"
"Everywhere. The warehouse in Incheon was just one site. There are storage facilities in Busan, Daegu... Seoul."
"How many?"
"Thousands," N3KO said. "And they just received a wake-up command."
Yoo-jin hung up the phone.
He looked at his reflection in the phone booth glass. The scar on his neck throbbed.
Thousands of hims. Thousands of perfect, obedient idols waiting for a command.
Mason wanted to control the audience. The Ministry wanted an army.
A black SUV pulled into the gas station. Tinted windows. Government plates.
They had tracked the call.
Yoo-jin pulled his hood up. He walked around the back of the station.
He saw a delivery scooter parked by the dumpster. The key was in the ignition.
"Sorry," Yoo-jin muttered to the universe.
He jumped on the scooter. He kicked the engine to life.
As he sped onto the highway, he didn't head back to Seoul. He headed toward the BK Building.
If the Ministry was activating the clones, the first place they would hit was the defectors.
Sae-ri. The trainees.
"Don't die," Yoo-jin twisted the throttle. "Don't you dare die before I get there."
The BK Building. Gangnam.
The celebration pizza was cold.
The lobby was quiet. The trainees were sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor, exhausted from the adrenaline crash.
Sae-ri sat on the reception desk, keeping watch. She held a baseball bat.
"You should sleep," Kai said, walking down the stairs. "I'll take the shift."
"I can't," Sae-ri stared at the glass doors. "Why haven't they called? If he was booked, he gets a phone call."
"Maybe he's sleeping," Kai lied. "It's been a long day."
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
The music system in the lobby turned on by itself.
Buzz. Click.
A song started playing.
It wasn't ERROR 404. It wasn't K-Pop.
It was a military march. Synthesized. Cold.
"Who turned that on?" Sae-ri jumped off the desk.
"I didn't touch anything!" David yelled from the command center. "The system is locked out! External override!"
Outside, on the street.
A truck pulled up. Not a police van. A heavy, armored transport.
The back doors opened.
Figures stepped out.
They wore black tactical gear. Face masks. But they didn't move like soldiers. They moved with the eerie grace of dancers.
They lined up in perfect formation. Twelve of them.
"Are those... Zenith trainees?" Kai squinted through the glass.
The figures removed their masks.
Sae-ri gasped. The bat slipped from her hand.
They all had the same face.
Han Yoo-jin.
Twelve copies of Han Yoo-jin. But their eyes were blank. Dead.
"Clones," Kai whispered. "Combat models."
The lead Clone stepped forward. He raised a hand. He didn't hold a weapon. He held a microphone.
"Attention," the Clone spoke. His voice was Yoo-jin's, but stripped of all warmth. "This facility is now under the jurisdiction of the Department of Defense. Surrender the assets."
"Assets?" Sae-ri stepped back. "He means the girls."
"Breach," the Clone commanded.
The twelve Yoo-jins moved in unison. They ran at the glass doors.
CRASH.
They shattered the glass with synchronized kicks.
"Wake up!" Sae-ri screamed. "Attack!"
Min-ji slid down the bannister. She saw the intruders. She froze.
"Hyung?" Min-ji blinked. "Why are there twelve of you?"
"They're not him!" Sae-ri yelled. "Hit them!"
Min-ji swung her bat at the lead Clone.
He caught it. With one hand.
He looked at Min-ji with Yoo-jin's face.
"Inefficient technique," the Clone said.
He twisted the bat. He threw Min-ji across the room. She crashed into the vending machine.
"Min-ji!"
The trainees woke up screaming. Chaos erupted.
The Clones moved through the lobby like water. They didn't kill. They subdued. A touch to the neck, a joint lock, a tranquilizer dart.
They were capturing the girls.
"Get them to the basement!" Kai shouted, fighting two Clones at once. He was good, but they were better. They knew his moves before he made them.
"They have his memories!" Kai realized, blocking a punch. "They know our training! They know our weaknesses!"
Sae-ri ran to the fire alarm. She pulled it.
WHEEP-WHEEP.
Water sprayed down.
But the Clones didn't glitch like the holograms. They were flesh and blood. They just kept coming.
One Clone grabbed Ha-eun.
"No!" Ha-eun kicked and screamed. "Let go!"
The Clone injected her neck. She went limp. He threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
"We have to retreat!" David screamed, hiding behind the desk. "They're taking everyone!"
Sae-ri looked around. They were losing. The lobby was full of smoke and screams.
Suddenly, a motorcycle engine roared.
VROOOOM.
A scooter crashed through the already broken front window. It flew over the reception desk.
The rider skidded to a halt in the center of the lobby. He was soaked, bleeding, and wearing a ruined suit.
Yoo-jin took off his helmet.
He looked at the twelve copies of himself.
The Clones stopped. They stared at him.
"Target identified," the lead Clone said. "Subject 734. The Defector."
Yoo-jin stood up. He wiped blood from his lip.
He looked at Sae-ri. She was safe. For now.
He looked at the Clones. It was like looking into a funhouse mirror of his own worst nightmares.
"You want my face?" Yoo-jin pulled a microphone from his pocket (he had stolen it from the studio before leaving).
He turned it on.
"Then come get it."
He didn't fight. He started to beatbox.
Boots-cats-boots-cats.
The Clones hesitated. Their programming was confused. Combat protocol vs. Musical trigger.
"Min-ji! Rhythm!" Yoo-jin shouted.
Min-ji groaned, pulling herself out of the vending machine wreckage. She grabbed a metal tray. She slammed it on the floor.
CLANG.
"Kai! Harmony!"
Kai wiped blood from his nose. He started humming a low bass note.
The Clones twitched. Their synchronized movement faltered.
"They're linked!" Yoo-jin realized. "They're running on a shared network! If we disrupt the rhythm, we break the formation!"
He looked at the terrified trainees huddled on the stairs.
"Don't hide!" Yoo-jin yelled at them. "You want to survive? Make noise!"
"Scream!" Sae-ri shouted, grabbing a cymbal from the drum kit in the corner.
She smashed it.
CRASH.
Fifty girls screamed. It wasn't a song. It was panic weaponized into sound.
The acoustic chaos hit the Clones. They covered their ears. The perfect synchronization broke. One Clone stumbled into another.
"Now!" Yoo-jin ordered. "Push them out!"
The trainees grabbed whatever they could—chairs, shoes, water bottles. They threw everything at the confused Clones.
"Get out!" Ha-eun woke up, groggy but furious. She bit the ear of the Clone carrying her.
He dropped her.
The Clones retreated, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of chaotic data. They backed out of the broken doors, dragging two unconscious trainees with them.
"They took Ji-soo!" Luna cried.
The black truck sped away, tires screeching.
Silence returned to the lobby. Just the sound of heavy breathing and rain.
Yoo-jin collapsed onto the wet floor.
Sae-ri ran to him. She checked his head wound.
"You came back," she whispered.
"I forgot my keys," Yoo-jin tried to joke, but winced.
He looked at the shattered doors. At the empty space where Ji-soo used to be.
"This isn't a lawsuit anymore," Yoo-jin said quietly.
"It's a war against myself."
He looked at the trainees. They were battered, scared, but alive.
"Pack your bags," Yoo-jin said.
"We can't stay here. The Ministry knows where we live."
"Where do we go?" David asked, trembling. "There's nowhere safe."
Yoo-jin looked at the rainy street.
"We go underground," Yoo-jin said.
"To the place where K-Pop started."
"Hongdae?" Kai asked.
"No," Yoo-jin stood up, eyes burning.
"The subway tunnels."