Prologue: A World Where Memories Can Be Saved
2033, Japan.
Memory Preservation Technology reaches the market.
It begins with a single, desperate plea from a dementia patient:
"Please. Don't let me forget who I am."
A team of neuroscientists, led by Yuma, answers that wish.
They learn to map neural circuits, convert them into data, and store them.
The world calls it a miracle.
A cure for fractured minds.
A promise of dignity for the aging.
Then the technology grows teeth.
Corporations absorb it into Talent Development Programs.
Cram schools sell Optimized Memorization.
Social media platforms deploy Real-Time Experience Sharing.
Memory stops being sacred.
It becomes a product.
In the darker layers of the web, counterfeit devices appear.
Jailbreak tools spread.
Security collapses.
A survey reveals the truth:
Nearly forty percent of teens and twenty-somethings admit they have considered using bootleg hardware.
"If it works the same, cheaper is better."
"If it's not strictly illegal, what's the harm?"
To digital natives, it’s just another app.
Guilt belongs on the other side of the screen.
December 2034.
The Memory Leak Incident.
A flaw in an unauthorized device exposes tens of thousands of users.
Personal data spills into the wild.
So-called Pure Experiences—stripped of faces and names—flood the black market.
The rush of obsessing over an idol you've never met.
The raw panic of a recruit's first day.
The empty hunger of social media addiction.
The highest bids target what should never be shared.
Adultery.
Assault.
Murder.
Drug-induced hallucinations.
The memories of crimes.
2035.
The Memory Preservation Management Act.
The Japanese government finally intervenes.
Too late.
Saving a memory is legal.
Duplicating one is a felony.
The logic is simple:
To copy a memory is to copy a soul.
But by then, the internet is already overflowing with stolen lives.
Even now, somewhere in the world,
someone is reliving a moment that was never theirs.
These are the records of that era.
Stories that made headlines in a time when the human mind was for sale.
Look in the mirror.
Those memories —
are they really yours?
