The scene shifted once more, this time to the chamber where Areumseo Jihyeon sat across from her opponent—a woman with weary eyes and silver-streaked hair. The standard white-walled chamber looked no different from the others, with a dividing wall splitting the players and a square hole at its center for verbal exchanges. But the mood in this room was heavier, thick with something unspoken.
Areumseo held the information cards in her hand—cold, crisp, and heavy with tragedy. She slowly flipped through them, her brows furrowing with each revelation:
Name: Murae Katsuko
Age: 52
Criminal Charge: Suspected mental instability post-nuclear fallout
Trigger: The death of her entire family in a single incident
She paused on the most devastating part.
"Lost her husband, son, daughter, mother, father, sister, and brother in the 2034 Fukushima nuclear meltdown. Was not present during the trip. Survived. Considered emotionally unfit post-incident but committed no direct crime."
Areumseo's heart clenched. The woman across from her had been through hell. She wasn't a criminal. She was a survivor of fate's cruelest trick.
The older woman didn't speak a word. She simply stared down at her desk, her hands folded, her knuckles white. She had nothing left to lose—and that made her unpredictable.
Areumseo, still holding her card, glanced at it. The words were simple but contained a deep backstory of the middle aged woman in front of her
She wondered what the older woman's card had said—if it said anything at all.
Meanwhile, in another chamber…
Riley Aston leaned forward, arms crossed on the desk, smirking. His opponent, a skinny man with sunken eyes, was visibly shaking. Riley had played his hand exactly the way Darian Wolfe had—blackmail.
"If I die here," Riley said coldly, "my boys will pay a visit to your sister's apartment in Detroit. You know what kind of visit I'm talking about."
The man froze, sweat dripping down his temple. The fear was instant. His breathing became ragged.
Riley leaned back casually, stretching.
"This game ain't about who's good or who's bad," he chuckled. "It's about who knows how to break the other person first."
Across the board, in multiple chambers, players made their moves.
Some, like Darian Wolfe and Riley Aston, used fear and threat.Some, like Ryota, used deception and psychology.Some, like Gyumin Rakchan, struggled to understand the morality of it all.And some, like Areumseo, simply sat in silence—staring at a mirror that reflected their own pain through the stories of their opponents.
And some like Vayunesh...
This was no ordinary game. This was Speechlock—a battle not of fists, but of minds, emotions, histories, and guilt.
Each room had the same wall.Each room had the same desk.Each room had the same rules.
But no two games were ever the same.
Behind the cold metal observation panels, the Game Agents watched carefully. They recorded every word, every hesitation, every tear. To them, this was just the beginning.
"Phase One: Stable," said one of the agents into his headset.
"All chambers engaged. No violations. Mental breakdowns: 2 pending. 1 confirmed," said another.
A different agent, cloaked in black, simply whispered,
"Let the world watch what desperation truly looks like."
And they both were high ranking Game Agents