Chapter 1A Wind Blows In

The girl who murdered three people had my face.

So, they arrested me. They extracted my memories for a global live stream.

Turns out, my brain is full of things that need a censor bar to be shown.

The judge, red-faced with anger, demanded, "What on earth do you spend your time watching?"

I feigned surprise. "Why? You want the links?"

The internet audience: LMAO.

They let me go, admitting they'd arrested the wrong person.

But did they really?

* * *

In the courtroom, the judge’s voice boomed. "Defendant, the surveillance footage is crystal clear. Are you still going to deny it?"

I licked my dry lips, repeating the same words I’d said a thousand times over the past few days.

"I didn't kill anyone. That wasn't me!"

But the evidence was right there. A wave of murmurs rippled through the gallery.

"Tch, three lives lost. If it wasn't her, who was it?"

"The nerve of her. The Smiths were such decent, hardworking people, and she just butchered them!"

"And that poor girl, Jessica. Same age as her. Such a tragedy…"

The judge slammed his gavel, and the room fell silent.

I delivered my final statement. "Memories don't lie. I will submit to a Memory Trial to prove my innocence."

In this age of advanced technology, the memories of the most heinous criminals were extracted and broadcast live as a warning to the world. It was a brutal process. The subject endured not only excruciating physical pain but also the complete annihilation of their private self under the public gaze. For humanitarian reasons, the Memory Trial was reserved only for those already sentenced to death.

I was the first person in history to demand it for myself during a trial.