The Memory Trial of Sera Valenti

On the night Matteo Valenti subjected me to a Memory Trial, almost every member of the Valenti Family’s inner circle gathered at the estate.

Black-clad bodyguards formed a security perimeter, while cameramen recorded the entire process.

I was barely alive.

The torture in the underground prison had already destroyed my organs, and only IV fluids and pain medication kept me conscious.

Even so, I was still treated like a condemned traitor awaiting execution. I was dragged out roughly and thrown onto the cold metal trial platform.

At that moment, a man broke through the security line and rushed toward me, clamping one hand around my throat.

It was my cousin Vincent.

“Sera! Why are you helping that murderer?”

“You traitor! You destroyed the Valenti Family! How dare you still cling to life?”

Suffocation closed in, and patches of darkness slowly spread across my vision.

The courtyard was filled with furious voices, and the overwhelming hatred surged toward me like a wave, completely drowning me.

“It’s her! This despicable sinner! Lia was murdered, and she clearly knew the truth, yet she still protected the killer!”

“On the day Lia was buried, their own mother knelt outside Sera’s cell and begged her to tell the truth, but she refused to say even a single word!”

Curses struck me from every direction without mercy.

A few steps away, Flora Valenti stood with her brows tightly furrowed.

Within the entire Valenti Family, aside from our parents, there was probably no one who hated me more than Flora.

Before everything happened, our brother Matteo had been expanding the family’s influence overseas.

At the estate, the three of us girls—Lia, Flora, and I—had always been inseparable.

We grew up together and shared every secret.

Then, on a rainy night, Lia’s body was discovered at the estate, and I was found sitting beside her corpse, completely unharmed.

Everyone demanded to know who the murderer was, and some even suspected that I was the killer myself.

The investigation confirmed that I was not the murderer.

But I was the only person who knew the truth and chose to protect the killer.

Matteo slowly walked toward me.

Wearing a tailored black suit, he carried the authority of a Don, silencing the entire courtyard.

He looked down at me as I was held in place, his voice as cold as ice.

“Sera, I’m giving you one last chance.”

“Tell me the killer’s name. Admit your part in this now, and the family can still give you a dignified end.”

“Once the memory extraction begins, the high-frequency neural pulses will destroy every nerve in your body. By then, you won’t even have the chance to repent.”

My face turned deathly pale, and I struggled with all my strength, trying to break free from the bodyguards holding me down.

“Matteo, don’t.”

“You absolutely cannot extract my memories.”

Matteo grabbed my wrist, his knuckles turning white from the force.

“You’re afraid now?”

“It’s too late.”

“I came back to avenge Lia.”

Tears blurred my vision.

“Matteo, please. Those memories cannot be made public. You will regret this.”

Beside me, Flora let out a bitter laugh.

“Regret?”

“The thing we regret most is that we once considered you our sister.”

Two Valenti bodyguards forced me into the specially designed iron restraint chair.

The cold metal cuffs locked tightly around my wrists and ankles.

No matter how hard I struggled, I could not move.

The heavy helmet slowly descended and locked over my head.

Dozens of sensor probes pierced my scalp and bored into my skull.

Violent pain exploded through me.

I screamed until my voice broke and I tasted blood.

My body convulsed violently, and even the iron chair beneath me trembled, as though my soul were being torn out through my skull.

Yet the voices of the family members below only grew louder.

Shards of broken bottles and rotten fruit were thrown onto the platform one after another.

“Traitor! Sinner! Go to hell!”

The enormous projection screen behind me began to flicker.

My memories began to rewind across it.

The first scene appeared before everyone.

It was the third day after Lia’s death.

I was dragged to her memorial service, where people surrounded me and demanded that I reveal the identity of the murderer.

Someone spat on me and threw stones.

Several hands pinned my arms while someone viciously pulled my hair.

Fists rained down on me.

My face was badly swollen, and my entire body was covered in bruises.

I staggered away as the crowd chased after me.

Then came the flames.

My house burned red against the darkness.

I stood beside the fire, watching my home turn to ashes.