The first response from outside GarudaCity did not come in the form of outrage or investigation.
It came as imitation.
A fashion conglomerate based across the sea released a press statement announcing a new line of "Emotion-Responsive Apparel." The wording was careful. Vague. Familiar in a way that made Danindra's stomach tighten when he read it.
"They don't have it," Amara said, scanning the announcement. "They're copying the idea."
"That's more dangerous," Danindra replied. "Ideas scale faster than truth."
---
Within weeks, advertisements flooded social feeds.
Clothing that promised calm.
Fabric that claimed to "understand you."
Wearables marketed as emotional stabilizers.
Most were powered by sensors, AI inference models, and aggressive branding.
None listened.
Customers complained of headaches. Discomfort. A strange sense of being watched.
GarudaCity felt it too.
The hum shuddered—not violently, but irritably, like a system forced to coexist with noise pretending to be harmony.
---
Regulators arrived soon after.
This time, officially.
They did not come to Oneiro Rewear.
They went to Wirasmi's neighborhood.
Two plain-clothed officials stood outside the listening hall, uncertain, as if the building itself unsettled them.
"We're not here to shut you down," one said. "We just want to understand what you're doing."
Wirasmi poured them tea.
"I repair clothes," she said simply.
They exchanged glances.
---
Ace watched the developments from LionCity Raya, concern tightening his jaw.
This was the moment he had feared—not suppression, but misinterpretation.
Systems built without humility did not fail quietly.
They recoiled.
He sent a single message to Danindra.
> Do not respond. Let contrast do the work.
---
Inside GarudaCity, something subtle shifted.
People began to notice that only Oneiro garments—especially older pieces—still felt grounded.
Not enhanced.
Honest.
Secondhand sales surged.
Repairs became more valued than replacements.
A trend forecaster called it "Post-Performance Aesthetics."
Wirasmi called it "remembering."
---
The imitation products failed publicly within a month.
Not catastrophically.
Just enough.
Enough recalls. Enough complaints. Enough quiet lawsuits.
Analysts labeled it a "premature emotional-tech market."
They moved on.
But GarudaCity did not.
---
Danindra stood one evening on the rooftop of Oneiro Rewear, watching the city lights pulse gently below.
"We didn't teach them," he said to Ace, who had finally arrived and stood beside him. "We just refused to lie."
Ace nodded. "And that refusal echoed."
Below them, unseen, the thread hummed—not louder than before.
Steadier.
The world had noticed GarudaCity's silence.
And for the first time, it hesitated—unsure whether to conquer it…
Or learn from it.