The air in the Arctic facility tastes like metal and decay. My boots crunch over shattered cryo-glass as alarms wail in the distance. I followed the signal for three years—billions spent, lives broken—and here she is. Nova. My daughter. Wires snake from her temples, her body suspended in a tank labeled Project Aurora. A man in a white coat stands beside her, typing notes. 'Remarkable cognitive stability,' he says, like she’s not even human.\n\nThen he turns to me, smiling. 'Ah, Mrs. Park. We’ve been expecting you. You should be proud. We’ve improved her.'\n\nPride? My fists clench. Pride isn’t what surges through me—it’s fire. Cold, focused rage. I took down governments for less than this. And now, I have two choices: pull the emergency release and risk killing her by waking her too soon… or let him walk, follow him to his masters, and dismantle this nightmare from the inside.