He started walking and stepped into the golden light of the memory market. He had no idea where to go next, what to do, his head was still empty– just basic sword skills rattling around in his head.
He blinked and adjusted his eyes to the scene before him– a world twisted beyond imagination, still he had a hard time believing the world was running on memories.
"Step right up, fresh memories of childbirth, untainted, vivid!"
"Nightmare coins for sale – perfect for punishment rooms or noble games!"
"Combat instincts, assassin skills, trauma coins – best price today only!"
He strolled around the market.
He stumbled forward but carefully avoided himself from colliding with people while moving like a hollow ghost. He was shocked, and had a hard time believing that memory can help you gain skills.
He noticed some were tightly grabbing coins to their chest as if holding their life while others were bartering with trembling hands, hollow eyes and shivering as they parted with shimmering coins just for scraps of food or clothes.
He exhaled a heavy sigh as he passed past a stall lined with red-blood coins, each glowing faintly with a pulse like a dying heartbeat. The broker behind the stall was a thin woman with shaved eyebrows, tattoos starting from her neck and vanishing under a dark robe upon seeing her smile sent chills down his spine.
"Interested in pain coins, handsome? Trauma strengthens the spirit. Try it once, you'll never have fear again." she said.
He gulped, forced himself to meet her gaze and shook his head in denial and started moving away as fast as his trembling legs allowed.
As he was moving forward he remembered her words which stuck in his mind– trauma strengthens the spirit.
He was trying to find something familiar with some hint of sanity in this twisted market then his eyes stopped on a girl.
A small girl, maybe eight or nine, sitting cross-legged behind a tray lined with shimmering coins. She had black hair falling over one eye and her oversized robe that pooled around her thin body. She was chewing a piece of stale bread with eyes dull as lifeless stones and looked up lazily as he approached.
"Lost, newbie?" she asked with a soft voice.
He looked at her coins, each glowed softly under the lantern light and etched with different runes like spirals, jagged lines, flickering symbols that seemed to shift when he blinked.
His mouth felt dry as bone, he hesitated at first but asked in a hesitant voice.
"…How do these… work?"
She let out a snort, an unexpectedly ugly sound from someone so small. "Seriously? You don't even know that? Pick one, pay and place it on your temple. If it's compatible, it will merge with you. If not, you bleed out your eyes and die. Wanna buy or keep wasting my time?"
'Bleed out my eyes? It can't be–'
His heart pounded with fear still gathered out every last bit of courage he could find in himself.
"What's… the cheapest one you have?"
She pointed lazily at a coppery coin near the tray's edge. Its rune was jagged and simple, like a child's scribble of a knife.
"Basic dagger grip reflex. Half price since the original owner died screaming."
Fear crawled down his spine but still asked. "Why would… that matter?"
She shrugged and started biting her stale bread again. "Death emotion residues. Sometimes you inherit them. Night terrors, phantom pain, rage bursts. That's why it's cheap.".
'So I'll inherit his death trauma too…?'
A cold shiver ran down his spine
She ignored him.
He licked his cracked lips and asked. "How much?"
"Five memory credits or one trauma coin. Trauma coins are better because they worth double since nobles buy them for torture rooms or punishment rituals."
He furrowed his bows and asked, "Why the fuck would anyone want trauma memories?"
She smirked with a hint of bitter amusement, "Because nobles are twisted bastards they use trauma coins to break minds, reshape slaves, or fuel forbidden rituals. These are worth more than a hundred happy memories."
He opened the pouch with trembling fingers and skimmed through it quickly then his fingers hovered over the black coin etched with sickly red veins.
"Trauma coin," she said softly, her dull eyes filled with a strange light. "Perfect."
He clenched his jaw and asked. "…What… memory is this?"
"It doesn't matter. Trauma coins are sealed. Buyers gamble on what nightmare they're buying. Usually they are something violent, humiliating or sometimes hopeless." she said with a blank expression on her face.
He felt bitterness rise in his throat but handed it over to her. She held out her hand forward like a snake and snatched it away instantly and tossed him the copper coin in exchange.
"Don't die," she muttered while sliping the trauma coin into her robe's hidden pocket.
He stared at the dagger coin in his hand. No matter how many times he held the coins he still can't get used to it pulsing like a heartbeat.
'Should I have taken some kind of pain removal coin.. Alright.. Let's get on with it..'
He closed his eyes, sweat beads ran down his temples which made him remember the pain he felt a while ago but after hesitating a bit he pressed the coin to his temple.
For a split second nothing happened, then – all sound vanished. The air became thick with a deafening silence, as if time itself had momentarily frozen.
A scorching flash shot through his nerves, boiling his blood as knowledge flooded in his mind. Fingers curling around a dagger hilt, wrist rotating perfectly to flick a blade upward and sever tendons easily, such a memory of slicing a throat from behind under moonlight appeared before his eyes.
"AAAGH!" He dropped to his knees, clutching his head in pain screaming covering his head with both hands, and the market got blurred before his watering eyes. He heard footsteps, shifting, faint murmurs distantly but no one came to help him.
'Fuckfuck.. my head hurts like hell..'
When the pain finally subsided, the knowledge of a dagger settled in his bones like a coiled serpent ready to strike. His breath became ragged gasps as he staggered to his feet.
"fuck… it… worked…" he whispered, still trembling as if saying it aloud might make it real.
The girl stared at him blankly. "Of course it did. Next." and started chewing her bread again
He shook his head and started walking again but the dizziness was making the market spin and he stumbled between the robed buyers and hunched brokers then a thought suddenly crossed his mind amongst all the confusion.
'If I want to survive… I'll have to trade memories. Mine or someone else's. Without hesitation.'
'This world doesn't care about right or wrong. only value.'
As he was moving forward such thoughts were crossing his mind.
'Where should I go next… what to buy and how to survive..'