March 1, 2045 | 12:45 PM | Nakhon Sawan, Thailand

  “Let me go, you bastards! You’re police, aren't you? Do you have any idea what he will do to me if I’m taken back!?”

  The desperate screams of a young woman echoed across the precinct’s courtyard. She was striking—even in a simple white tee and blue jeans—but her beauty was currently masked by sheer terror. She thrashed against the iron grip of two female officers, her wrists flushing a bruised red from the strain as they dragged her toward the two-story concrete building.

  One of the officers hesitated for a heartbeat, her eyes flickering with a painful flash of pity as she looked at the trembling victim. But her partner didn't give her the chance to act. With a firm, silent tug on her arm, the older officer pulled her away. Her cold gaze remained fixed forward, a silent warning: 'Don't go looking for trouble. Our job ends here.' Without a word, they finished dragging the woman inside, turning a deaf ear to her final pleas for mercy.

  Inside the station...

  “There she is. Your wife has arrived,” the duty officer at the foot of the stairs muttered. He nodded toward the woman with a visible sense of relief, as if he were finally ticking a tedious chore off his list. He remained standing there, his gaze hollow and indifferent, watching the scene unfold as if he were merely returning a piece of lost property to its owner.

  The woman’s breath hitched. Her face went deathly pale the moment their eyes met. A cold shiver raced down her spine—the very man she had risked everything to escape was now standing right in front of her, wearing a predatory smirk.

  Slap!

  The moment she was within reach, the man’s backhand cracked across her right cheek with full force. Her head whipped around as she sprawled onto the precinct floor. The male officer watched with a hollow stare, completely unmoved by the violence. In a world where the New Order was written by the powerful, this was just another boring piece of administrative business.

  “You filthy slut! How dare you steal my money to run off with another man!” the man roared at her shivering form.

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  “Hic... h-hic...” The woman could only sob, her hands trembling as she tried to prop herself up. Her face was distorted by a crushing sense of despair. The freedom she had once dreamed of was being torn away right before her eyes.

  “What’s the verdict?” the officer asked nonchalantly. “Pressing charges? Or keeping her?”

  The man looked down at the woman cowering at his feet, scanning what remained of her beauty with a twisted sense of amusement. “I’ll keep her. A beauty like this is a rare commodity these days,” he replied, handing over a new ID card. “Please terminate the old one. My wife here... she’s been downgraded to Tier 3 now, hasn't she?”

  “Based on the evidence and her conduct, that is correct,” the officer replied, indifferent. “If you waive the criminal charges, you are authorized to secure her with a chain immediately, as per your rights.”

  “And what about that 'Pretty Boy' she ran off with?”

  “We’ve caught him. He’s currently in custody awaiting sentencing. The court will handle him.”

  “Good... that’s good to hear. Thank you for bringing her back to me.” The man gave a mocking, polite bow. Then, he reached for a heavy iron chain resting on a nearby bench and looped it around her neck.

  Clink!

  He yanked the chain, dragging her across the floor like a dog on a leash. The woman could only scramble to her feet, forced to move with the pull to keep the heavy metal from crushing her throat and causing her any more pain.

  “Sigh...”

  A long sigh drifted from a corner of the waiting area. Linnea sat there, her fingers gripping the time-travel device on her left wrist so hard her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were clouded with a deep, soulful sorrow. In her mind, she saw images of her mother—the secretary to a legendary heroine who had died along with a crumbling hope. This single legacy in her hand felt far too heavy to bear. She wanted to stand up, to fight, to stop this grotesque sight, but ignorance and fear shackled her legs just as firmly as that iron chain.

  “What’s wrong, Linnea? Haven’t you gotten used to this yet?” Ji-ah, her Korean friend, asked in a flat, monotone voice. She had long since passed the point of feeling anything. The horrors she had seen over and over had turned her heart to stone.

  “How can anyone ever get used to this?” Linnea whispered, her voice trembling. She watched the woman being dragged out of the station.

  ‘Freedom and Equality...’ she thought bitterly. The very words her mother said were once used to liberate women. How could those same words now be used to chain them in even greater agony?

  What should I do... Mother, what am I supposed to do?

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