Three years ago, my wife Su Wan died unexpectedly.
Three years later, I was the prime suspect in her death.
It all started with that non-existent box of strawberries in the refrigerator.
My late wife's memo updated automatically late at night, her cry for help was hidden in the wedding video, and in the locked room in the basement, there were fresh footprints and a wedding ring that didn't belong to me.
The old man guarding the tomb was crazy. The forensic doctor gave me a second autopsy report that was completely opposite. Even my most trusted psychiatrist secretly gave me sleeping pills.
Everyone said I was crazy, that I couldn't accept my wife's death and that I was suffering from severe delusions.
But when I put on the pair of VR glasses with our wedding anniversary engraved on it, I really fell into the abyss.
May 20, 2019, an endless cycle of wedding anniversary.
She laughed and said she had died forty-nine times.
Every reincarnation is the trigger of a silence procedure.
I thought I was deciphering the truth behind my late wife's death, but in the encrypted file, I saw the most terrifying fact:
I am the experimental subject, and I was judged to be brain dead three years ago.
In this scam that spanned three years, who is the hunter and who is the prey?
When the truth was peeled back layer by layer, I discovered that behind the most extreme malice was the most desperate love.
