A Sleepless City Behind by DeepSeek

       “Lot 734, ‘Corner Fountain,’ source… near-death car accident experience. Final bid: seven thousand credit points. Sold!”
       The electronic gavel struck like a snapping bone. Ares leaned against the gel lining of the hovering booth, too lazy to lift his eyelids. Below, in the circular auction arena, the well-dressed “experience connoisseurs” went insane over fragments of dying memories; their hands trembled slightly with excitement—or some twisted hunger. Noise. The air was thick with the sickly sweet blend of disinfectant and expensive fragrance, making his stomach churn.
       These memories—car crashes, falls, drowning… too ordinary. Like overchewed nutrient paste, devoid of any real thrill. His nerve endings demanded something stronger, something utterly unique.
       “Boss, next lot: ‘Blood-Red Banquet,’” whispered his assistant Lisa, her pupils flickering with unseen data streams. “Source: Ralph Cohen, an unsolved serial murder case… last known victim. Memory extracted seventy-two hours before death, includes… the murder moment.”
       Ares finally stirred. He shifted slightly, eyes on the main display screen showing the memory marked in red: “EXTREMELY DANGEROUS, UNSUITABLE FOR FRAGILE MINDS.” That was it. An almost instinctive pull.
       The bidding started quickly, ended faster. When Ares called out a figure that silenced the entire arena, no one countered. Lisa efficiently completed the transaction, handing him the memory chip sealed in a specialized shielding container. Cold to the touch.
       Back at the “White Noise” estate, his private experience room—pure white, soundproof, like a massive eggshell—he dismissed everyone, including Lisa. Settling into the sleek immersive chair, he felt the subtle suction of bio-electrodes on his temples.
       “Load: ‘Blood-Red Banquet.’”
       At first came chaotic blocks of color and piercing tinnitus. Then the world snapped into focus, like a lens finally coming into alignment.
       The damp, cold air reeked of rust and rotting trash. Narrow alley, graffiti-covered walls. He—or rather Ralph—was running, lungs like bellows, each breath tinged with blood. Heartbeats pounded like drums in his ears. Fear—pure, animalistic—threatened to tear this alien body apart.
       Footsteps behind him: steady, unhurried, exuding hopeless inevitability.
       The perspective wavered. Ralph fell, elbows scraping the rough ground, burning. He crouched behind a dumpster, pressing his mouth shut to stifle any sound. At the alley entrance, a tall figure stopped. Backlit, face obscured, only a dark, oppressive silhouette.
       The shadow seemed to sniff the air. Then, a low chuckle.
       Ares tensed in the chair. This sensation… too real. Not just Ralph’s senses, but the bone-deep despair of being hunted. More pure than any extreme-death memory he had ever experienced.
       Footsteps advanced toward the dumpster. Ralph’s body shuddered uncontrollably.
       Suddenly, the perspective jerked upward. Ralph tried to glimpse his hunter’s face. At that moment, neon lights from a distant building flickered briefly, revealing the shadow over the hunter’s head.
       Ares’ heart stopped.
       Around the hunter’s neck, a scarf. Deep blue, embroidered in fine gold thread with intricate unicorns in the act of hunting.
       Impossible.
       Absolutely impossible.
       That was his scarf. A gift from his father on his coming-of-age twenty years ago, handcrafted by the late textile master Salvador—unique in the world. He never parted with it… until a few years ago, when it inexplicably disappeared during a cleaning. He had been annoyed for days.
       Cold sweat soaked his sensory suit. Breath halted; blood seemed to freeze in his veins. No, it had to be coincidence—a terrifying coincidence! Perhaps a similar design, perhaps a data glitch during memory extraction or upload…
       The immersion continued.
       The hunter leaned down. Ralph emitted a dying whimper. The perspective spun violently. Pain, sharp and cold, the sensation of a blade piercing flesh, amplified infinitely…
       Ares ripped the electrodes from his head, rolling out of the chair, kneeling and retching. The physical discomfort was nothing compared to the storm inside him. The unicorn scarf burned into his retina like a red-hot brand.
       “Lisa!” His voice was hoarse, unfamiliar.
       Lisa’s hologram appeared instantly, professionally questioning.
       “Check! Find me everything on the Ralph Cohen case! Original files, scene reports, everything!” He almost shouted the order.
       Hours later, the data was retrieved with maximum clearance. Ares stared at the old electronic files: crime scene photos, body positions, autopsy reports… and the frames from a distant convenience store’s low-quality surveillance footage, dismissed at the time due to technical limitations and chaos at the scene.
       Zoom, zoom again. The figure hurrying past the alley around the time of the murder. Rough pixels, just a silhouette.
       Yet the hairline, the gait… and the neck—the faint deep blue, glinting even in low resolution.
       Ares collapsed in the chair, drained of all strength.
       Not a coincidence.
       It was him.
       Fragments of that wild, alcohol-fueled, rage-driven night returned through Ralph’s eyes, searing into his own consciousness. That night: the out-of-control car, the argument with Ralph, then… the violent spiral in the dark alley. He hadn’t even realized he was wearing the scarf.
       He always thought he had lost it afterward.
       In reality, he had lost it at the murder scene.
       Ares, the top-tier billionaire, master of society, had been savoring others’ deaths all along.
       In the end, what he paid for was the evidence of his own long-forgotten crime.
       Ice-cold terror gripped his heart, fiercer than any of Ralph’s memories.
       He flailed, trying to dispel the relentless, blood-stained overlay of past and memory.
       Only his ragged breathing filled the room, accompanied by the silent, hovering specter of his former self.