December 31, 2037 | 11:55 PM | Bangkok, Thailand
At a New Year’s Eve celebration...
“Tonight is my final performance! So everyone, let me hear you scream!” A handsome young singer shouted into his microphone, his voice amplified by a wall of speakers.
“KYAAAA!” The crowd erupted. Thousands of women screamed in unison, jumping to the pulsing beat of the music. In the background, a massive digital clock counted down the final minutes of the year. The performance roared on until...
11:59 PM
“In just a few minutes, I won't be able to perform like this anymore. So, thank you... thank you for following me all this way.” The singer bowed deeply, his eyes misting over, before leading the crowd in the final countdown.
“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six...!”
But amidst the thunderous voices, a high-definition military-grade surveillance drone hovered silently above the sea of people. It was steady, its cold lens calculating. It, too, was counting down to the start of a very different operation.
“Two! One! Happy New Year! Thank you all so much!” The singer shouted one last time before waving goodbye.
A wave of deafening screams and frantic waving followed him as he exited. Only a few women stood frozen, their faces turning ghostly pale as they looked at the people around them who were still screaming.
They had forgotten the most crucial rule: the count started on the first day of the year. And as the clock on the stage ticked over to 00:01 AM, the trap had already sprung.
***
January 1, 2038 | 9:40 AM | Inside the GREM Virtual World
At the Central Hub...
In the middle of the meadow, a crowd stood in collective shock. They stared at a gargantuan holographic billboard displaying the number of captured clips.
The number read: 13,481,531 After only nine hours into the new year, over thirteen million violations had been recorded.
The clips being played on a loop showed New Year’s celebrations from across the globe. Some venues had intentionally put handsome singers on stage for one ‘final’ countdown, and the moment the date changed, the drones counted every single woman who continued to scream in adoration.
It was a fatal oversight. A trap dug deep beneath the veneer of celebration—a hole they had all jumped into without a second thought.
How could they have known? Even if they fled the virtual world of GREM to celebrate in reality, they were pursued by military-grade surveillance. Tiny drones and high-performance cameras had swarmed the world, capturing their every slip with terrifying ease.
***
Inside a private office...
Nisa stood staring at her tablet, her entire body trembling. Her face felt numb. Ten million in nine hours... the math was devastating. Her mind immediately flashed to her daughter, Nam.
“It’s okay... we can do this. We have to do this,” she whispered, repeating the words like a mantra to keep her heart from stopping.
GREM had made all the footage public, allowing anyone to verify the counts. It was a move of ‘transparency’ that only served to hammer home the undeniable truth of the evidence. No one could deny these numbers.
Thud. Nisa’s legs gave out, and she slumped into her chair.
“Ms. Nisa!” Pim rushed over to support her.
“It’s only ten million... there’s still plenty of margin left. We can do this,” Nisa muttered, trying to reclaim her courage.
Pim could only stand by silently, her expression unreadable. Even she hadn't anticipated that the world would fall for such a simple, yet brutal, lure.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Nisa had asked women worldwide to share and spread news of the wager. With the unemployment crisis spreading like wildfire, those affected were cooperating fully.
However, another side of the coin emerged. Women whose jobs were still secure, or those who hadn't felt the sting of the crisis yet, remained indifferent. They ignored the wager simply because it hadn't hurt them yet. This cold apathy was a hurdle Nisa hadn't expected.
“Pim... spread the news further. Increase the campaign. Make them realize that if they remain indifferent, this disaster will find them eventually.”
“Yes, Ms. Nisa,” Pim replied before heading out to mobilize the message.
***
January 7, 2038 | 4:15 PM | Chiang Mai, Thailand
In front of a high school...
As the afternoon breeze carried the chaotic scent of the school day’s end, ten women stood firmly on the sidewalk. They held large protest signs painted in blood-red letters, a stark warning to the passersby.
“Women like us can do it! Stand up for our dignity!” they shouted, their voices wavering but filled with desperate power. “Don’t give value to those fake, handsome faces! Don’t be fooled by the shells they’ve built to deceive us!”
Their voices echoed against the school walls.
“KYAA!”
A scream erupted from within the school gates as an exceptionally handsome student walked past a group of girls. Nearby, another group of students was secretly filming.
“Damn, four thousand baht? Five hundred a head? For real?” A plain-looking male student stared at his phone in shock as the money hit his account. He had just uploaded the clip to the GREM bounty site—a portal dedicated to catching ‘shell-worshippers.’
The clip showed eight schoolgirls. The site’s AI counted all eight instantly and transferred 4,000 baht. Exactly 500 per head.
“Stop! Stop it!” A female teacher rushed over to scold the girls, lecturing them fiercely. She then glanced at the boys with their cameras and shook her head in despair.
These schoolgirls didn't have jobs yet; they relied on their parents. Without the pressure of survival, the wager meant nothing to them. They followed their instincts, unaware they were selling out their future.
***
January 10, 2038 | 7:10 PM | Inside the GREM Virtual World
The number on the holographic billboard ticked upward: 17,134,523
***
February 14, 2038 | 11:40 AM | Yunnan, China
At a public park...
“Can I have your number?” A chubby teenage boy approached a beautiful girl.
“I have a boyfriend,” she lied instantly, her face twisted in disgust. She couldn't stand the sight of him.
But as she walked away, another boy—strikingly handsome—approached her with the same question.
“Can I have your number?”
“Y-yes... sure.” The girl blushed, her heart fluttering. She didn't know...
“I GOT A HUNDRED YUAN! WOOHOO!” The chubby boy from before shouted, running back with his camera pointed at her face. He mocked her with a triumphant laugh before sprinting away, leaving her standing there in a daze—torn between crying and screaming as she realized she had just been ‘counted.’
***
February 18, 2038 | 11:40 AM | Manchester, England
Up in a high tree...
“That’s it... look at that thirst. Perfect.” A young man with an expensive telephoto lens filmed a group of women by a heated pool, their eyes glued to a muscular, handsome man walking by.
Once the upload was successful, he kissed his phone. He had just made ￡121 from capturing eleven ‘thirsty’ women in one shot.
***
March 25, 2038 | 6:00 PM | Nagano, Japan
At an apartment complex...
A Japanese man checked the GPS coordinates he had received. He quietly pried open a window and slid his phone inside, filming a young woman who was engrossed in a romantic movie featuring a stunning lead actor.
Ding! The recording signal made the woman jump in terror. The man bolted, submitting the clip to claim his 2,500 yen.
***
March 27, 2038 | 1:20 PM | Bangkok, Thailand
Inside a shopping mall...
“Hello, beautiful.” A handsome man approached a girl, making her blush crimson. On his shoulder, a tiny pinhole camera was recording.
“Hey! Don’t blush at him!” Another woman rushed over to pull her friend away, but it was too late. The handsome man had his clip and was already running. All she could do was scream curses after him. “You bastard!”
***
June 10, 2038 | 3:00 PM | Inside the GREM Virtual World
At the Central Hub...
The number displayed on the gargantuan holographic billboard now read:
67,347,250
