Chapter 35

Dressed in a crisp, high-end suit tailored at Jinguji, Valy and I rode in a so-so taxi—probably one bought cheap at an auction or something.

In the driver’s seat sat Jack, disguised as a taxi driver, while Vanny played the navigator up front in the passenger seat.

Maybe we were supposed to be a family-run taxi service or something, because those two were wearing bright, cheery aloha shirts that clashed ridiculously with our vibe.

"Still… Yorinobu again, huh. First the iguana thing, and now this—feels like fate’s got us tangled up with him."

"Yorinobu Arasaka. Current president Saburo’s son—the second one. The eldest died during the Fourth Corporate War, apparently. Since the younger sons were too green to take over, Saburo returned. I heard they had a falling out over Arasaka’s direction back then, but even so, looks like he got summoned back to Night City. Word is he started a group called the “Steel Dragons” in Tokyo."

"So he was the prodigal son. With a heavyweight like that backing you, you'd think he'd keep it straight."

"Depends on the perspective, doesn’t it? The greater the parent, the higher the expectations. I imagine the standards placed on him were brutal. The fact he led his own organization, even for a while, is a point in his favor—it shows he didn’t want to be just a puppet."

"Heh, so maybe it was all about proving himself to his old man. Like ‘Look, I’ve got what it takes to lead.’ Then I guess Yor’s got more spine than I gave him credit for."

“Steel Dragons,” huh? I’d heard the name back when I was still with Arasaka. A nomad clan known for its extremist, anti-Arasaka stance. Rumor has it they were tied to the data leak in Frankfurt—what ultimately got me kicked out of the corps.

Gossip’s just gossip, sure—but the timing of Yorinobu’s return to Night City checks out.

Hard to say it’s all unrelated.

If this was just a father blowing up over his son’s antics… yeah, it tracks.

Thinking the iguana he bought to cheer himself up got stolen too—well, poor bastard.

We chatted casually in the car as it rolled toward the Konpeki Plaza.

David and the others had already gone in disguised as janitors and apparently managed to smuggle the Flathead into the reserved room. That left us to walk in like a pair of young investors.

…Having a full crew really makes divvying up roles easy.

If it were just Jack and me, we’d be posing as arms dealers and walking in the front door.

"Alright, we’re almost at Konpeki Plaza. What about the return trip, sir?"

"Shouldn’t take long. Just wait in the parking lot."

"Gotcha. Good luck in there."

I bumped Jack’s offered fist over his shoulder and got out with Valy.

…Been a while since I came here. Konpeki Plaza.

The memories of sneaking in a junior colleague from my Arasaka days started creeping up, but I shook them off before my thoughts got too pink.

『We’re at Konpeki Plaza. Reservation name?』

『You’re Harry Conwell. Valy is Hannah Conwell.』

『…Weren’t we supposed to be a couple?』

『Were we? Well, it’s fine. Ring or no ring—there’s enough reason for two people to share a suite.』

『Guess you’ve got a point…』

I glanced at her—she was visibly overwhelmed by the opulence of the high-end hotel towering before us.

Well, she’s a nomad, after all. Country girl in the big city.

I exhaled quietly, took her right hand in my left, and interlaced our fingers.

She looked surprised for a moment, but caught on quickly and leaned in, curling her arm around mine like a natural.

…Like a pro actress. Switched into “wife mode” with one flick of a mental switch.

This time, we couldn’t bring any weapons into Konpeki Plaza. If it came to it, I’d have to rely on my Mantis Blades.

Valy didn’t like implants much, staying mostly organic—that alone helped lower suspicions.

Time for me to switch to work mode too.

I slicked back my usual hair and reset my expression to the corporate persona from my Arasaka days.

We passed through the security gate at the hotel entrance.

That gate was just for show—meant to catch obvious weapons like guns or knives.

These days, nearly everyone’s got implants. If they seriously ran metal detection, everyone would set it off.

That’s why my Mantis Blades, clearly weapons, were simply registered as “chrome tech” and let through.

…Maybe the fact they’re Arasaka-made helps too. This hotel’s part of the Arasaka group. They probably expect their own people to come through regularly.

It’s a loophole you only get because Arasaka's mid-tier execs and up get first dibs on all kinds of cybernetics.

"Checking in. Name’s Harry Conwell."

"Welcome to Konpeki Plaza, Mr. Harry Conwell. …Yes, confirmation received. Please proceed with biometric authentication. …Registration complete. Your suite is on the 42nd floor—the Lapis Lazuli Suite. Please enjoy your stay."

Ignoring the deeply bowing receptionist, I gestured for Valy and headed toward the elevators.

Passing the lounge bar, I caught a glimpse of—seriously?

That’s the Hideyoshi Ooshima, the braindance director everyone’s waiting on for his next work, laughing over drinks.

Would’ve loved a word with him, but the job takes priority. With some regret, I turned away.

We rode up to the 42nd floor and quickly entered the reserved room.

David, trying to boost our odds, had already activated the Sandevistan and stashed the Flathead case in the closet. I pulled it out.

『Check complete. Room’s locked… I’ll shut the windows too, just in case.』

『Can you power on the Flathead?』

I flipped the switch at the base of the Flathead’s neck and turned it on. Kiwi and Sasha linked up via wireless and ran diagnostics, then got it moving.

The Flathead silently skittered across the floor, unscrewed the vent cover, and slipped inside.

No choice but to wait a bit. I dropped onto the sofa as Valy looked around, eventually getting all excited at the view outside.

Well, yeah—nomads don’t exactly get to see views from this high up. I watched her reaction with a fond smile—it was a refreshingly youthful joy for someone in her early twenties.

Then a ping hit our shared holo—progress update.

『Alrighty, we’ve infiltrated the tech room in the subnet. Also found the dweller but…』

『One operator for this whole setup? That’s just… I actually kinda feel bad. Poor guy.』

Yeah, imagine working solo, only to get disabled and then blown up by a bomb hidden in a Flathead.

It’s a shitty end, no doubt.

But sympathy can get your team killed. Go soft, and you’re the one paying the price when it counts.

Well, here’s hoping the guy’s lucky enough to survive. If not—see ya in the next life.

『Hmmm… This ICE is thick. Gonna take a bit if we’re doing this carefully.』

『It’s like there’s one ICE stacked on top of another. A mess of spaghetti code.』

『Double scoop of ICE. If we’re sloppy, it all melts together. Gotta peel it layer by layer.』

『Gonna be a while. Might as well relax in the fancy hotel while we work.』

…Isn’t this kind of the downside of doing everything solo?

It worked out well this time, but if they found out, the higher-ups would definitely be pissed.

"So it goes," I shrugged at Vali, who was sitting next to me, letting out a dry chuckle, seemingly satisfied after taking in the view.

"I'm good with cars, but when it comes to the net, I’m clueless. I only got it working after sticking a parabola on the roof, you know?"

"Corporations never saw any value in the Badlands. Even when they built relay stations, they didn’t benefit the nomads. Can't blame 'em, really."

"…Hey, I’ve been in Night City for a while now, but I still don’t get a feel for how people here actually see the Badlands. What's the impression from their side?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Might as well not exist—it has nothing to do with their lives. …Coming from a corpo background and living as a cyberpunk now, I feel it painfully. Night City’s a sealed ecosystem. To the corps, we’re just screws and gears sprouting out of a dirt field. …Thinking about it that way, maybe that’s why they hate the nomads. People who live by their own will and can’t be controlled—they must look like rats gnawing at the hand that wants to feed them."

"…Makes sense. Freedom doesn’t seem to mean much around here. Is it really all just 'hell or heaven depending on the eddies'?"

"Yeah, that’s basically it. …Maybe that’s why Little Boss got sick of this world after seeing it up close."

"What do you mean by that?"

"That maybe she decided she couldn’t leave it to these idiots and had to do it herself. Wouldn’t be weird if she took up that kind of justice."

"Pfft, true enough. I mean, she’s actually helping wipe out drugs—the same thing even the mayor couldn’t manage."

That’s exactly why I don’t get why the corpos aren’t targeting Little Boss—the thorn in their side.

…No, that’s a lie. I get it. I just don’t want to admit it.

They see Little Boss as someone fundamentally different from all the gangs so far—someone capable of real conflict, and they’re on high alert because of it.

Unlike gangs that act as proxies in the corps’ shadow wars, Little Boss is building a corporation of her own and aiming it straight at them.

And what’s more, through Delamain-affiliated companies, she’s improving the overall well-being of Night City, helping people regain their pride as citizens.

The corps want to counter her, but they can’t—everything she’s doing is charity work. Clean healthcare. Clean food.

Of course the public supports her. The only reason she’s not being floated as the next mayor is because she’s not interested.

If the corps even try to pick a fight with her work, it’s over—they know she’ll retaliate with food and medical blockades.

And she controls the very supplies needed for war—food, medicine—and on top of that, the city’s biggest gang, the Tyger Claws, would move at her command. That’s a freaking nightmare.

…When she decides to act, she really acts.

She’s the kind of girl who’ll wage an all-out war with the corps, burning this city to the ground with zero restrictions if that’s what it takes.

Damn… That’s terrifying. It’s because I was in the corpo world that I get how dangerous a group like hers really is.

Even I can tell, so you can bet the corpos want to look the other way and pretend they don’t see it, dead eyes and all.

A war merchant without malice? No one’s gonna believe that, even if they want to.

She just sees people wallowing in their misery and gets pissed off, breathing fire and sticking her nose in their business.

"If Little Boss really had ambitions to become the true boss of Night City… I wonder what would’ve happened…"

The moment I said it, I realized how terrifying the thought actually was.

…Guess I’ll hit the balcony, take in some nicotine, and calm down. The real show’s about to start anyway.