The morning after their broadcast, the city buzzed with energy—and tension.

Supporters had dubbed the twins "The Resistance Sisters." Their hacked message was playing on a loop online, sparking hashtags, reaction videos, and debates on every platform.

But not everyone was celebrating.

Blue Star Dynamics called it an act of cyberterrorism. Officials denied knowledge of the company’s enhancement programs, but leaks from within suggested otherwise. Someone had clearly known. Someone had funded it.

And someone was still protecting it.

At home, the mood was tighter than ever.

Bong Soon stood at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables like they were enemies.

"You put a target on your backs," she said flatly.

"There was already one," Rin replied, watching the news from her laptop.

"Now it’s flashing neon," Bong Soon muttered.

Rae paced behind them, restless. "What are we supposed to do? Let Mi Na scare people into compliance? She's rewriting what strength means."

Bong Soon finally stopped chopping.

"Then you rewrite it louder."

Later that day, the twins walked straight into a live press conference being held by the Mayor of Seoul.

Cameras flashed. Security froze. The mayor paused mid-sentence.

Rin stepped to the podium.

"You want transparency? Let’s start here. Strength isn’t a formula. It’s a responsibility. And the people offering to sell it? They don’t care what it costs you."

Rae stepped up beside her.

"We won’t stand by while they exploit fear. We’re not here to rule. We’re here to protect."

The crowd exploded—cheers, gasps, arguments.

But the message was out.

That night, Bong Soon watched the replay alone. She didn’t cry. But she clutched her phone like a weapon.

And on the other side of the city, in a private boardroom lit only by screens, Do Mi Na smirked as she watched the same footage.

"Perfect," she said. "Now everyone’s watching. Let’s see who they follow."