Chapter 1

I was born with a cognitive disability.

The day my sister Audrey came to pick me up from school, a man dragged her into an alley. She was assaulted, and killed.

I was the only witness.

My parents seized my shoulders, their faces twisted with fury and grief. "Tell us! You saw his face. Speak!"

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

They threw me out that night.

Unable to care for myself, I became a ghost on the streets. I begged. I scavenged. I slept under bridges.

Until the day a man in a black suit found me.

He said he was Audrey's fiancé.

He knelt, met my hollow eyes, and spoke gently. "I know a place where we can make you see that day again. But it will cost you your life."

My grimy hands fisted in my stained shirt. I nodded, hard.

"I'll go."

What did I have to fear from death?

All I feared was forgetting the killer's face.

Under the stark glare of the live broadcast lights, I stood before the Memory Tribunal.

The audience sat watching, the cameras like dark, hollow eyes.

They said this trial would be streamed to the world.

Julian, who called himself Audrey's fiancé, stood at my side, his expression unreadable.

"You can still walk away."

I shook my head.

At that moment, a wave of commotion broke through the entrance.

I looked up and saw my parents rushing in.

The moment Mom saw me, tears streamed down her face, yet her words cut sharp.

"You heartless monster. Audrey was so good to you. She bought you candy, picked you up from school. She died horribly. You saw the killer. Why did you stay silent?"

My father stood furious, his voice ragged.

"We raised you, even with your condition, and never resented you. Is this how you repay your Audrey?"

A murmur rose from the audience. The cameras turned toward them.

Mom sobbed, barely able to stand.

"You were always jealous of Audrey. Jealous she was smart and beautiful, that everyone loved her. But she never looked down on you, her disabled sister. She did not even have to pick you up that day. She pitied you. She was afraid you would be bullied."

Mom's voice grew shrill.

"She died because of you! Don't you understand?!"

I stared blankly at their hysterical faces, my eyes burning.

So they really did hate me that much.

So, in everyone's eyes, I was the one who killed Audrey.

Julian's hand came to rest on my shoulder, his voice low.

"Audrey would never blame you."

turned to him, my own voice barely a whisper.

"If I go through the Memory Tribunal, the person who hurt Audrey will be caught, right?"

Julian was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. It's a global broadcast. The whole world will see what happened that day."

"Then let's begin."

Julian looked at me. "But it will be painful."

He pointed to the center of the stand, where a long silver needle stood upright.

"That needle will pierce the crown of your head, enter your cerebral cortex, and read your memories."

"The deeper the memory, the deeper it will go."

I paused for two seconds. My gaze drifted to my parents, still weeping and cursing in the audience.

Then I offered a faint smile.

"I'm not afraid of pain."

Julian's brows furrowed.

"As long as Audrey's killer is caught," I said softly, "as long as my parents can forgive me... any pain is worth it."

Julian was silent for a long while.

Finally, he glanced at the doctor in the white coat nearby and gave a single nod.

"Begin."

The doctor stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over me, then turning to Julian.

"Once the Memory Tribunal begins, it cannot be stopped. The neural extraction is irreversible. When the procedure ends, the patient will be brain-dead. The damage is too severe"

He paused. "Should we inform the family of these risks before we proceed"

I spoke immediately. "No!"

My voice was quiet, but steady. Absolute.

Everyone looked at me.

I met Julian's gaze, my eyes resolute.

"Please don't tell them yet... okay?"

In the audience, my mother was still crying. My father glared at the stage, his face grim.

Julian's throat moved as he swallowed.

"Alright."

Then two nurses walked over, helping me lie down on the cold metal table.

My body was secured with restraints-my wrists, ankles, waist...

Finally, a metal ring clamped onto my forehead.

A nurse approached with a syringe and injected a cold liquid into my vein.

The world began to blur.

Above my head, the long silver needle descended slowly, its tip aligned with the precise center of my forehead.

Then, my mother's horrified cry cut through the room.

"Stop, stop it!"