October 30, 2037 | 1:30 PM | Bangkok, Thailand
Inside a Court of Justice...
“Based on the evidentiary footage, despite the narrow angle, it is clear that an external party intentionally used a high-voltage taser to strike the victim directly on the head.” Mook stood before the judge's bench, his voice calm, cold, and professional.
After the heated debate with Nisa, Mook had to spearhead the defense for twenty-five cases of GREM users dying while wearing the device. The company chose to prolong these trials, waiting for the perfect moment to deliver a ‘knockout blow.’ That moment was now.
Hidden cameras within the GREM headsets had automatically recorded the surroundings of the players. The perpetrators, careless and unaware, were captured in high definition. GREM was finally cleared of all charges.
3:00 PM Mook emerged from the courthouse with his entourage—his three wives, a team of lawyers, and burly bodyguards. They walked with the stride of victors amidst a storm of camera flashes. A female reporter rushed forward, thrusting a microphone toward him.
“Mr. Mook! How does it feel now that GREM has been officially cleared of the serial murder allegations?”
“Indifferent,” Mook stopped to answer, his face unreadable. “A GREM device consumes less power than a television. Even if a leak occurred, the current isn't enough to kill anyone. These people died because someone intended to kill them.”
“Does that mean you prepared for this backlash from those losing profit?”
“Yes. GREM destroyed many vile industries—human trafficking and drug cartels—businesses that moved massive amounts of money. We knew they wouldn't go quietly. We were prepared.”
The crowd nodded. GREM hadn't just shaken the world; it had incinerated the dark underbelly of the global economy.
***
November 1, 2037 | 10:40 AM | Inside the GREM Virtual World
On the GREM POST feed:
— “If you’re going to play GREM, lock your doors. Someone tried to sneak into my house and force-feed me meth yesterday.”
Comments flooded in, cursing the desperate drug dealers trying to find any way to push their product in a world that no longer wanted it.
— “Be careful, but don't worry. Unless it’s a massive overdose, you won't get addicted. I took two pills by mistake before my mom saw. When the withdrawal hit, I just put on the headset and went to the Rehab Server. Cured in a day. If it’s bad, just keep going back. It works.”
***
November 2, 2037 | 10:40 AM | Bangkok, Thailand
At the National Foundation for Women’s Rights...
Nisa stared at Mook on the TV screen with a heavy heart. Over the past few months, she had been invited to debate him in multiple countries, but every encounter ended the same way. Mook used the very ‘Freedom’ she once championed as a spear to pierce her arguments until she was left speechless.
Now, that freedom was ruthlessly destroying millions of women. Within months of the launch, female unemployment hit 30%. The supply chain had snapped. It started at the ‘Upstream’—women who sold their looks. With GREM’s perfect, cheap AIs, men moved their money into the virtual world. This triggered a domino effect: the ‘Midstream’—cosmetics, skincare, and plastic surgery clinics—collapsed.
The ruin spread to support roles: makeup artists, photographers, and service staff. Millions were discarded like fallen leaves, all because men chose to remain buried in GREM.
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“Freedom...” Nisa whispered, looking out her window. A crowd of women stood outside seeking help. When Nisa had no answers, they spat out the words “Global Whore” with pure hatred.
The words cut deeper every time because they were true. Pressuring GREM to let women sell their beauty was a direct violation of the very rights she had once insisted were absolute. She was trapped by her own words.
‘Choked.’ Nisa leaned back, exhausted. Images of unemployed women and suicides flashed through her mind like a plague. Ten minutes later, her secretary, Pim, entered to find Nisa collapsed on the floor.
***
6:25 PM | At the Hospital
Nisa woke up to find Pim waiting by her bed. “The doctor said it was extreme stress, Ms. Nisa.”
Nisa looked at her hands. Something in that collapse had cleared her mind. “Pim, I need you to do something for me.”
Ten minutes later, the data from Lily arrived.
“Tokamiya Saito... his girlfriend murdered his parents, stole his money, and framed him. She used a famous actor to manipulate public opinion into condemning him. He spent five years in prison before proving his innocence.”
Nisa sighed. The perpetrators were women of this era, easily manipulated by beauty, destroying a man’s life until he had nothing left.
“Eleanor Agnes... a K-pop mogul tried to take her daughter as a mistress. When she refused, he used his influence to crush her business. Eric Coun... his daughter was impregnated and forced into a secret abortion by a famous singer, landing her in the ICU.”
Every investor, every leader behind GREM, had a background steeped in agony caused by the ‘Society of the Shell.’
Nisa took a deep breath. GREM wasn't attacking anyone. It was simply offering a better choice. But the ‘Shell Society’ had spent years using influence and beauty to oppress others—just like the women who still praised the man who destroyed Mook’s life.
“Perhaps...” Nisa’s voice trembled. “...we were truly the ones who were wrong.”
***
November 5, 2037 | 10:40 AM | Chiang Mai, Thailand
In front of a new GREM equipment store...
Mook stood with scissors, ready to cut the ribbon. Rina stood by his side, her smile never wavering. Suddenly, a stir moved through the crowd.
“Look! It’s Nisa!”
Nisa walked straight toward Mook, followed by a swarm of reporters. In front of everyone, she did the unthinkable. She dropped to her knees and bowed at Mook’s feet.
“I’m sorry... I apologize for the women who betrayed you. For the men who bullied you. And for all of us who built these toxic values. I am truly sorry!”
Silence fell. Nisa stood up, her eyes bloodshot, and turned to the cameras.
“To every lady out there... it’s time to face the truth. We built a disgusting culture that worshipped looks just to satisfy our own vanity, never caring who we destroyed. We’ve been lost for too long. From now on, we must burn these values to the ground!”
She turned back to Mook, her eyes pleading. “Mr. Mook, we were wrong to look down on you... Please, give us a chance to change? Let us see what is truly valuable... And yes, women like us need men to support us. Please, open a space for us in GREM. Don’t shut us out like this.”
The silence grew heavier. Mook, usually so sharp, was stunned. Seeing the world’s heroine surrender to the truth, a fragment of his heart softened.
“What you’re asking for... I can’t decide alone,” Mook’s voice was lower, gentler. “I’m the Director of development, not the Creator. I have to consult others first.”
“Thank you... that’s enough for me,” Nisa wept with relief.
Sudden movement!
A handsome young man burst from the crowd, face twisted in a murderous rage. Nisa’s plea to help only women was the final straw. He pulled a handgun from his pocket and screamed.
“DIE, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!!”
“MOOK!!!”
Rina saw it first. Without a second thought, she threw herself onto Mook, wrapping her arms around him, using her body as a human shield.
BANG!!!
A single shot shattered the air. Bodyguards swarmed the gunman, but the world had already stopped.
“Ra... Rina...” Mook held her as she slumped, her blood soaking into his hands. He was shaking so violently he couldn't breathe.
Nisa watched, her face ghostly pale. She had finally reached him, finally softened his heart... only for this to happen.
Rina was still. The bullet had struck the back of her head. Mook’s mind went white, a void of madness and despair as the world dissolved into darkness. He clutched her lifeless body, screaming her name into the void.
“RINA! RINA!! RINA!!!!!!!!!!”
