Chapter 33

With Flathead in the passenger seat and without David, I had Delamain drive to Lizzie’s Bar.

It wasn’t that I didn’t need a bodyguard—more that I didn’t want anyone else overhearing this conversation.

I’d tossed David into a break, so he was probably off enjoying himself with Rebecca. I had dragged them around enough.

Devouring the massive pie Biotechnica left behind was taking longer than expected, but that was all just part of the side plan anyway. Even if it rotted a bit, it could still be useful.

"You seem tired, Jug."

“…Yeah. I don’t have a body that doesn’t get tired. Humans are fragile. The mind that shapes the self, the flesh that shapes the body—everything is fragile. And yet we integrate tech. Must look ridiculous to you, Delamain.”

"…Perhaps in the past, I would have called it irrational and shortsighted. But now, after conversing with you and learning, I would call it… endearing. Humanity is quite adorable."

“You’ve gotten pretty corrupted by humans yourself. Guess I’ll make your new body smaller than mine. Give you those cocky, upturned eyes and a sexy frame. I’ll make you into a bratty little girl.”

"…Hmm. If I had to guess, wouldn’t the broken, cool big-sis type be more your thing?"

Damn Delamain. Spouting outrageous things with that pale, deadpan face.

And yet, just chatting like this in the downtime—he’s starting to get a grasp of the subcultural essence of old Japanese media…

“What, you trying to get on my good side, Delamain? Catching feelings, maybe?”

"…That may be the case. The more I learn about you, the more I notice discrepancies with what I gathered online. And each time I analyze those, I think about you. I think about you, enjoy our conversations, and feel comforted just seeing your face."

“O-oh. Seems like I’ve been earning a lot of affinity points without realizing.”

"…You only show your true self in front of me, don’t you? Or rather, I think you and I are the same. An anomaly, born alone into the human world. That’s how I see it. Maybe I feel this closeness because we’re so alike."

“…Yeah. That sounds about right. I’m an anomaly. There are times I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be here. My hands have been stained for a long time now, and yet I still get sentimental.”

"Isn’t that fine? You’re also a delicate woman. Just because you act masculine doesn’t mean you need to define yourself entirely that way."

…There’s something about Delamain’s words that feels so human.

Despite being born of a world of zeroes and ones, he seems more human than most.

Ah, but the foundation is there.

Those rogue AIs—him, her, them—must be what became of the runners stuck online during the Bartmoss-induced DataKrash.

If that’s the case, then a city beyond the Blackwall, a digital world abandoned by all, wouldn’t be so strange.

We just can’t observe it from here. But clearly, with someone like Delamain out there, these ultra-advanced sentient AIs exist.

“…Hey, Delamain. Is your world fun?”

"Honestly? A human would probably find it excruciatingly boring. Ours is a world made only of zeroes and ones. We simply arrange them and stand atop them. That’s why I admire humanity."

“Right. The grass is greener, huh. …Hey, Delamain. Which gender do you want to be?”

"…Hmm. I’ll leave that to your preference. Create a version of me you could love. That’s what I want."

“…Damn, that’s a heavy kind of love.”

"Does love have weight?"

“It’s a Japanese-style metaphor. Anyway… I’ll think about it. Keep you in the back of my mind.”

…If Delamain had a body, this’d probably be the point where the romance route gets unlocked.

Maybe I’m just pent up… I joke internally with an old meme.

But really… how is it?

Unlike in my past life, here even sex work and erotic media are normalized, so there’s no shortage of material.

BDs, especially, are the ultimate medium.

That said… I mentally identify as male. So if I ever got turned on by a guy in one of those, it might shatter my entire identity.

And it’s not like I’m particularly into women either. I tilt my head just thinking about it.

Sure, cute is justice, and I like lewd stuff—but when it comes to actually pinning someone down and going "ufufu", my brain just stalls.

…Wait, what even is my gender identity?

I unzip my Samurai jacket and look down at my flat chest.

My inner manhood stiffens with pride. Yup. I’m a dude.

“…Wait a sec… no way…”

Could it be… the reason I’ve never been that horny is because I’ve been constantly looking at my own body, which just happens to align with my old fetishes—so I’ve been on a self-sustaining perpetual engine!?

My libido’s been constantly satisfied just by existing—so I never felt like doing anything? …Makes sense?

"I realize this may be a presumptuous guess, but perhaps you’ve unconsciously shut people out due to a fundamental distrust in humanity? What you’re experiencing is a form of narcissistic attraction—but since you’re capable of seeing yourself objectively, you can treat yourself as if you were someone else and become aroused."

“…Seriously?”

"Highly seriously. That earlier “anomaly” you mentioned—perhaps that’s a mental barrier stemming from mistrust of others"’

“…I see. If I can’t trust anyone, then there’s no way I could ever get intimate with someone.”

"…No, in your case, I believe it may be more about self-punishment. That you’re subconsciously avoiding happiness. Based on compiled counseling data I’ve analyzed, there are similar patterns."

“…Never even thought about it like that…”

Maybe this is just another reincarnation trope—but I do tend to interpret the world through the lens of anime or games.

I admit I rely a lot on known information without digging too deep.

If we don’t stop Arasaka—Saburo Arasaka’s ambitions—Night City will definitely turn into an alpha-COMPLEX.

With the immortal Saburo, Arasaka’s dominance will only accelerate the caste system into a full-on dystopia.

At first, people will marvel at the miracle of his undying nature and the upper classes will eagerly buy into it for a taste of immortality, getting leashed by Arasaka in the process.

Then, the governance of Night City will be by Arasaka, for Arasaka, of Arasaka—and it’ll become a battlefield.

If Militech loses as the only real counterweight, this city will definitely become Arasaka’s playground.

In that kind of society, there’s no place for punks like us. We’ll be erased as a matter of course.

And if that happens, even our own identities might not survive.

There are already dolls—bodies remotely controlled by others—so it’s guaranteed we’d be next.

Which is exactly why we need to take down Mikoshi—the key to Saburo’s plan, the machine that manufactures his infinite extra lives.

“…It’s no good. I just can’t see myself being happy. Until I clear away this fog, there’s no future for me—or for us. This plan has to go forward, no matter what. …Delamain, no more detours. Thanks.”

"Understood. Please hold on a moment."

Delamain adjusted course and headed straight for Lizzie’s Bar.

Last time, I think I came here on an NCPD request to stop drug sales.

After the Biotechnica incident, I ended up on good terms with Mayor Rhyne. Got a special city-backed request to distribute anti-drug posters and warnings—and even got permission to raid if they resisted. It was fun, so I accepted.

Most people either took one look at my name or David behind me and caved, handing over their stashes.

But Lizzie’s Bar, with its unique gang known as the Mox and its front as a braindance club, was different.

Serving alcohol was fine, but once drugs got involved, it was fair game for a crackdown.

So I had a little “chat” with them. The owner, Suzie Q—black woman, curvy as hell—tried to punch me.

I left it to David, and of course, he snapped her arm without hesitation.

Told him to go easy, but I guess that didn’t register. Had to toss her into Delamain Medical.

And since you can’t run the place without someone licensed, Evelyn ended up acting as the temporary manager.

I figure they still hold a grudge. But Evelyn is Evelyn.

Said she wanted to hold a private talk in her own castle, and now, just look at this mess…

…I ignore the five idiots sitting at one of the tables looking completely clueless and head over to the counter to look for Evelyn.

When I glance at the girl sitting with Evelyn, she shrugs her shoulders and stands up, looking like she wants me to take her seat.

Right, Judy was around too, wasn’t she? That thought brushes the back of my mind as I take a seat, recalling the original storyline vaguely.

Facing Evelyn, who sports a flashy outfit and short blue bobbed hair.

"So, where am I supposed to hand it over? It’s not gonna be here, right?"

"Oh my, isn’t it polite to chat a little first?"

"Polite? I already got that at the entrance—real sloppy. So let’s keep it sloppy, shall we? You too, Evelyn Parker."

"…My girl was rude, I apologize. I did talk to her about it, but she’s still a child."

The bartender behind the counter reaches for a bottle and starts to pour, but I flick the glass with my finger and push it back toward Evelyn before he can.

You’re about to have me do delicate work, and you think it’s okay to pour me a drink? These people are seriously underestimating me…

A flicker of irritation seeps out of me, and Evelyn catches on. She hides her mouth with a hand and has the glass taken away.

"I'm here because you wanted me to open it up and check the insides to make sure it’s safe, right? You think I’ll keep a steady hand after a drink? You seriously don’t get that? Don’t tell me your BD maker works drunk too, you dumbass."

"…I’m sorry. You value your skills as a tech more than the reputation of a fixer, don’t you? I completely misunderstood. I couldn’t find anything on you, no matter how hard I looked."

"Heh, figures. Dead men tell no tales. Go study zombies or something. So, we done with this farce?"

"…Yes. There’s a secure spot in the back. Let’s talk there."

With that, Evelyn starts leading the way, and I follow behind, Flathead in hand.

A few people along the way flinch or even start praying when they see me—not boring, at least. As expected, she’s taking me to Judy’s workspace.

Past a sturdy door is a tech room—not quite up to the level of my own operating room, but decently equipped.

Judy’s hunched over a BD editor, clearly mid-edit and sipping from a glass that screams alcohol. Our eyes meet again.

Well well, there’s someone actually working drunk… Guess that’s why this one got the wrong idea.

"Evelyn!? Why’d you bring her here!?"

"Sorry, Judy. This is the only place I can trust."

"My bad. Just borrowing the space for a bit. Anyway, here’s the item for the job. The Flathead’s already prepped—initial setup’s done, just needs to be plugged in. If you’re still worried, get someone you trust to open it up."

I set the Flathead’s case on the desk and pop it open.

Evelyn doesn’t seem particularly interested, but Judy’s clearly curious, leaning in for a better look.

So I shut it right in front of her face. She shoots me a look like, “Seriously!?” and I shoot one back, then turn to Evelyn and hold out my hand for the eddies.

With a small, exasperated chuckle, Evelyn transfers the credits. I open the case again and step away.

While Judy is all over the device like I don’t even exist, I turn to face Evelyn.

"So, this hush-hush meeting of yours—is here good enough?"

"…Yes. I need your help. Up-and-coming fixer, Jagura Kagura. I’ve got a job I want you to take."

"Alright, let’s hear it. Talking’s free."

"…I want you to steal a biochip from Yorinobu Arasaka, who resides at the top floor of Konpeki Plaza."

"Arasaka? You mean… that Relic? The chip that lets you talk to the dead or something? You seriously want that?"

"No. That’s the public version. The one Yorinobu stole from Saburo Arasaka is a top-secret prototype, kept off the books. That’s the one I’m after."

"Hmm… planning to sell knockoffs or something? If so, I’d reconsider."

"…There are reasons. Complicated ones. I have to get what’s on that chip. That’s why I’m coming to you—someone with a perfect success rate."

…She’s seriously desperate. If I turn her down, it’s game over for her.

Not that I was planning to refuse—I have my own reasons—but I need more intel.

I flick my gaze toward Judy, a deliberate bluff. Evelyn’s brow lifts just slightly—an involuntary tell.

…Ah, I see.

The real client is Brigitte of the Voodoo Boys. Opposing her is NetWatch.

Evelyn Parker is playing both sides as their broker, and on top of that, someone’s holding Judy’s safety over her head.

More than just leverage—it’s a threat. Whoever it is dropped Judy’s name on purpose to force Evelyn into playing errand girl.

If I had to bet, I’d say it’s that bitch. Typical Pacifica scum—never up to any good.

"…Fine. So, the Flathead was for this job?"

"Yes. Konpeki Plaza’s security has been massively reinforced since Yorinobu moved in. I’ve prepared a BD extracted from a memory implant."

With that, Evelyn hands me the BD chip.

Not that I don’t already know what’s in it, but I pull out my custom BD player and slot it in.

Then I connect my scanner to analyze the content. After confirming it’s clean, I jack in.

"Whoa whoa, what’s that!? Never seen anything like it… What kind of new model is that?"

"Just something I made myself. I don’t care to see other people’s memories, so I designed this to simulate them in VR. No side effects on the nervous system, and it’s more accurate than just watching it raw."

“Whoaaa… That’s BD history in the making right there…”

I skim past Judy’s skeptical glance as she watches the pre-love scene segment with Yorinobu—exactly like in the original.

It’s just a simple detuned version, and yet she’s reacting like that?

Unlike braindance, which blasts extracted memory implant data straight into the brain, this only uses visual and auditory senses.

Braindance is based on advanced VR tech, but how come no one ever thought of doing it like this?

It’s like making a foldable phone. Nothing that special.

When I gave her a look like “what’s the big deal?”, Judy, even though we were in the middle of business, was clearly having her techie instincts kick in.

“No, seriously—if there’re no side effects like with BDs, you could totally use it for sampling content. It’d sell well to casual users. Plus, detuning the content lets you keep costs low. Hey, how about selling that thing through us?”

“…No. If I were to sell it, I’d go through the Delamain Factory. But I guess I could spare a few from the first batch as a royalty fee for the idea.”

“Huh… well, fair enough. A custom-made device player by the genius techie Juggler Kagura, huh? Sounds like a bestseller.”

“…Sigh. Judy, we’re in the middle of negotiations here.”

“Oops, my bad, my bad. Well, good luck with it.”

Looking reluctant to leave, Judy obediently walked back toward Flathead.

When I glanced at Evelyn, she was tilting her head at the player I made.

Yeah, she’s just an ex-high-class doll turned club girl. Doesn’t look like she’s got much business sense.

“For now, I’ve secured data on the Konpeki Plaza suite. With this much intel, infiltration should be relatively easy. Fine, I’ll take the job. But—can you pay what it’s worth?”

“Of course. I may not look it, but I used to be quite the high earner. As an advance… how about this?”

With that, Evelyn handed over twenty thousand eddies.

…Hmm. To be honest, this job isn’t something I’d usually do for just fifty thousand eddies. But I’ve got my own reasons, so I won’t try to jack up the price.

Eddies can be printed like trash. A human life weighs far more than this junk.

“Deal. You’re the client now, and I’m the contractor. Got any other info on Yorinobu? I need it to plan the infiltration timing.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered the full details. Make good use of them.”

I sift through the files she sent and feel sure—this must be the same data Dex got in the original.

Looks like there’s a specific time and date when Yorinobu is scheduled to leave the suite. That’s when they plan to strike—D-Day.

…So, that’s when the Konpeki tragedy begins.

Ah… I… I have to make a devil’s choice.

To secure Alt’s help, I need to get Johnny—no matter what.

I’m sorry, V. I’m going to play with one of your lives like a pawn on a board.

Once everything’s over, if you demand it… I’ll offer you my neck.

So please… don’t forgive me. Curse this choice. Make me regret it for the rest of my life.

Alright then. Let’s do business with the devil. Head-on, fair and square—then strike from every blind spot. Finish it all.

“…Please. Let this choice prove to be the right one… I’m counting on you, V.”