Cyberpunk: From Dogville to Legend

Chapter 347 Fatal Clue (Part 1)

Steel dragon.

A homeless organization that existed in Tokyo and around the world decades ago.

Some say they are dead, killed in their struggle against Arasaka Nagahisa; but that's not entirely true. Not many people know they still exist; they simply keep their names in their hearts and have become various characters on the streets of Tokyo.

……

"Jakarta's homeless violence index is rising sharply, and recent international news reports show a year-on-year increase in the proportion of dangerous incidents perpetrated by the homeless."

"Among the Japanese companies that suffered the most severe losses were Arasaka, Kaissaku Military, and Kijiro, which also affected another major Asian company, KCT..."

"Recently, in order to curb the harassment by homeless people, Mr. Yoriyuki Arasaka, CEO of the Arasaka Group, has been in talks with several Japanese technology companies, leading to speculation that there is a high possibility of retaliatory military action against homeless people."

"A spokesperson at the Tokyo headquarters recently expressed condemnation of the homeless, but no homeless members have publicly responded to the accusations so far..."

Inside the bustling shop, customers sipped barley tea while a Japanese female news anchor, whose tone was pleasant to the ear but actually quite old-fashioned, broadcast the news on a small TV screen hanging above the food cart.

Nobody cares about this.

Everyone only cares about how long they worked overtime today, whether their boss and supervisor were being harsh on them, how to handle this month's rent and loan payments, and some people just slumped over their desks drinking beer.

"Boss, a bowl of tonkotsu ramen, please."

The burly man, his arms covered in old-fashioned Japanese tattoos, had his eyes covered by a metallic-like shell—the latest Compo "Meng" electronic prosthetic eyes. There are only two types of people who can use these things—

Wealthy mercenaries and high-ranking henchmen of the company.

The boss smiled broadly and respectfully presented the gifts with both hands.

Japanese etiquette often gives the impression that the other party owes them something, even when greeting someone, they are very careful.

"Coming right away, please wait a moment,"

When the people around saw the big man, they all shrank back.

Sumo bodyguard.

The identity is self-evident.

To be precise, the boss was greeting the prosthetic body markings on the big man's neck; next to the bright red biometric QR code were three white branches, and there was no one else but Arasaka.

Even among company employees, there is discrimination.

Most of the people sitting here are employees of service industries such as real estate and leasing companies. They face immense work pressure and are forced to work more than 15 hours a day, crammed into the rows of low-rise buildings in Tokyo.

Even smoking, eating, and drinking are subject to strict regulations.

They don't identify with the company's identity, and when they encounter employees of Arasaka or other giant companies, they will not hesitate to call them "stupid company dogs"; but if they find an opportunity to enter these large companies, they will not hesitate to turn their attention to the low-level residents who live in the shadows near the slums.

It's just that no one is that blind today.

Saying the wrong thing has consequences. Those who cower and dare not come here can be criticized, but those who come here boldly...

"Turn the TV volume up a bit."

His refined manners did not match his violent appearance. He would take the ivory-carved chopsticks from the security guard who came up behind him with chopsticks, and then place them on a spotless handkerchief.

The boss smiled and nodded, turned up the TV volume, and reached out with a friendly smile to gently turn the TV screen slightly towards this enormous thing.

The lively atmosphere in the store is gone.

Apart from a few drunkards in the distance who were still muttering to themselves, everyone else was silently enduring the cruel feeling of having their precious time off work taken away.

This is very torturous.

A sudden sound came.

"Hey! You guy!"

"What the hell is going on? What the hell is going on?!"

The office worker with a Kansai accent had his tie rumpled too much by his hands and was staring blankly.

He wanted to watch the TV image, but after his boss's manipulation, all he could see was a tiny line of subtitles in his prosthetic eye. Under the influence of alcohol, he couldn't make out what those densely packed things were at all.

Alcohol emboldens even the most timid, let alone an employee who just had several documents slapped in the face today.

"Stop saying that..."

His companion, whose alcohol level was significantly better, quickly pulled him back and tried to dissuade him.

But some people are just like that...

If you don't try to stop him, it's fine, but once you stop him... he will become defiant and use that to vent his dissatisfaction.

"Tanaka!"

"You bastard... shut up!"

Their companion kept glancing at the burly man with his back to them not far away; his warrior-like topknot looked like a terrifying eye staring at them.

The shop was noisy, but only from the drunkards' curses.

"What gives you guys the right to take away even this small right? Why are you doing this...?"

It sounded like a curse, or perhaps a protest against injustice.

The ramen stall owner had his back to the burly man, but the stainless steel mirror clearly reflected the guy's face. His face, like a swollen ball, began to slowly distort, and the drunkard's loud accusations against Arasaka's henchman revealed a strange smile—

Especially with the two white circles on her cheeks that mimic a songstress, she looks like a creepy robot.

The smiling boss turned his head slightly and nodded repeatedly.

He seemed to be forcing a smile.

But that guy's smile was too eerie; it was a sign that he was about to get angry.

The boss gritted his teeth, as if finally making up his mind—

While everyone's attention was focused on the drunkard, the owner slammed his chopsticks down on the counter of the food cart.

"You guy..."

The boss spoke in a tone that suggested he had been holding back for a long time.

Ignoring the customers still waiting for ramen, he rushed straight to the customer who was still waving his arms and whose companions couldn't stop him.

At this point, anyone willing to stop a drunkard can be considered a friend.

Keeping a respectful distance is the best option.

Unexpectedly, a boss who wasn't actually that agitated joined the noisy crowd.

Years of hard and heavy labor had given the boss a muscular physique, though his body was always hunched over. The muscles in his forearm were particularly well-defined when he reached out and grabbed the drunk man by the collar.

His raised fist struck the bewildered drunkard squarely in the face, causing the makeshift dining table and its contents to collapse and fall over.

Drunkards who are busy with work year after year have no strength left, and are even pitifully lacking in prosthetic body modifications.

The drunkard's companion stared incredulously at his boss, who was standing up for the company dog, his hands empty.

Everyone loves eating here, not just because of the food, but because the owner is so kind. He can recognize even customers who have only been here once and serve them a plate of pickled vegetables.

Everyone thought he was a patient and gentle boss.

I remember there were quite a few drunken brawls in the past, and he would always give them a free meal to calm things down. In a city as violent as Tokyo, there are very few people like him.

But what happened today?
"this…"

Even some people who were not involved stood up, their eyes filled with disappointment after their initial shock.

We should have expected this.

Everyone would want to fawn over an insider at a company like Arasaka, not to mention that sumo security guards with this kind of appearance are obviously rich and powerful.

"Damn it! Why in a place like this?!"

The boss had no intention of letting it go, and instead continued to charge at the guy who was rolling around on the ground, his fists flying left and right without any palm technique.

The henchman from Arasaka, who was still standing there without any reaction, simply waved his hand casually.

The two accompanying men, who had already drawn their guns, stepped aside expressionlessly, but exchanged a glance and looked at the scene of the fight with sympathy.

Few people have seen such a crazy side of the amiable boss.

Like those drug-overdose demons on the street in the early morning, tearing at the people in front of them, until someone realized that the boss had already punched the drunkard no less than ten times...

"Please stop! Stop right now!" Four or five people came up and pulled the boss, whose eyes were bloodshot, away.

He muttered to himself, but no one could hear him.

Is that really enough?

Perhaps only the boss himself knows the subject of his seemingly random murmur.

That is... time.

Out of fear, he chose rage, which was easier to conceal his emotions.

Fearful eyes, disdainful muttered curses, the crowd dispersed quickly like flowing water, leaving only three company employees and a disheveled vendor with scratches on his face and trembling as he breathed.

Curious eyes were fixed on them from afar, but only the senior executive from Arasaka tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

"Boss, ramen, please..."

The boss was like a spineless bastard, making all the neighbors grit their teeth in disgust.

"That idiot, I knew he was a pervert with a fake smile all the time."

"I wish I could lick that company dog's desk clean!"

"Damn it! That's infuriating."

The owner bowed and scraped, his hands trembling slightly as he started pulling noodles again, a result of the exertion and emotional excitement he had just experienced. However, after decades of work, the taste and texture remained unaffected.

【Kuroda Rei】It's hard to imagine that this guy's name is a completely standard Japanese woman's name.

Perhaps Kuroda Rei is nothing in the cyberpunk world with hundreds of genders, but if you know that the guy with the seemingly perverted gender in the company is in charge of protecting some confidential matters, you probably know what kind of pervert Kuroda Rei is.

The owner smiled and tried his best to steady his trembling hands as he placed the steaming hot ramen in front of Arasaka Dog.

He chuckled dryly, glancing up at Kuroda Rei's expression every now and then.

It was that same eerie smile that sent chills down your spine.

“OI…come here.”

Kuroda Rei's behavior is reminiscent of the Yamaguchi-gumi of the last century. In Japan, those who do things outside the legitimate world often use these kinds of congratulatory phrases in their speech.

The Japanese boss rubbed his hands together and chuckled dryly.

"You...you've been staring at the TV the whole time, haven't you?"

The two chopsticks in his hands, which were as heavy as lead balls, looked incredibly fragile.

"Of course, we'll do our best to ensure your experience! Are you enjoying watching TV, customer...?"

Kuroda Rei, who was stirring the ramen, let out a cryptic laugh.

"Isn't this kind of dirty place really interesting?"

The boss sat down beside him like a lapdog waiting for its owner to finish eating.

It's like a humble speck of dust that stakes its dignity on waiting for someone to give it a little something in return.

Kuroda Rei's large, powerful hand vigorously rubbed the head of the obsequious boss, treating his chef's hat and every strand of hair like a plush toy.

"Three things made me uncomfortable today. First, the chef at my favorite restaurant had his finger cut off by a gang. Second, I came to this supposedly best ramen shop in the Tokyo suburbs and had to put up with you maggots—"

The boss's back was almost bent at a ninety-degree angle.

It was as if you could hear the snapping sound of each strand of hair.

The pain was somewhat agonizing; a heavy hand pressed down on his head, causing his spine to ache.

"The third thing is that you thought you were being clever and solved my problems for me..."

"You really want to lick Arasaka's lips?"

He slowly lowered his head and took a sip of ramen.

Then he spat out the noodles and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

“Mr. Kuroda’s lunch time outside the company is a maximum of fifteen minutes, but now your stupid actions have turned it into thirty minutes.”

Ridiculous, right?
Kuroda was still angry, his reason for being upset was that his time had been wasted.

Furthermore, the poorly made imitation food at the bottom doesn't taste like real wheat at all; the soup has an oily smell, and only those who can't afford to live can stomach it.

Kuroda wanted to see what expression this spineless idiot would make, but he had already knelt down first.

Begging for mercy is just another boring tactic.

Kuroda had seen too many guys begging for mercy, but begging only made them die with less dignity.

"I just didn't want to disturb your meal!"

"Mr. Kuroda! Please, have mercy on me!"

The boss shouted himself hoarse, surrounded by a group of cheering lower-class citizens. Two security guards, both covered in prosthetics, held the almost unconscious boss down with hands like iron clamps.

Those who like to curry favor with the powerful and wealthy don't seem to be good at flattering; they all behave like dead dogs.

"I'll wait for you in the car. The most important thing for the boss to learn is to do his job well."

Both security guards bowed their heads.

As Kuroda Rei walked past the shopkeeper, he lowered his head and spoke quietly.

At this point, you can tell he is a woman.

"Don't think I don't know you want to save that brainless, drunken idiot."

"Believe it or not, they'll be overjoyed if you die?"

……

Five minutes later, the security guard, who had rolled up his suit sleeves, released the blood-stained collar in his hand, and the man, whose face was unrecognizable, collapsed to the ground with a thud.

The sarcastic, gleeful look in his eyes made the boss, who was lying on the ground twitching from being hit on the back of the head, appear even more irritating.

Kuroda Rei had already described this tragic scene long ago.

Foolish people only ever look at appearances.

The boss still remembers what happened fifty years ago. Back then, he was young and strong, able to ride the most ferocious motorcycles and make Arasaka spin around the streets of Tokyo.

He and his sister ran wildly in the wind, striving for the free world that some important person had spoken of.

The moment the wind blew against his cheek, he felt free.

The food cart, stained with grease, had a logo in the center of its tires, its appearance obscured by a yellowish-black substance.

"Steel Dragon"

Those are medals from past battles.

His breathing grew weaker and weaker, and the blood in the boss's mouth began to foam.

Nobody wanted to save him.

The television was playing its program, but a black cable was winding around the back of it, disappearing into the complex wiring in the ceiling that would take an electrician days and nights to decipher, leading to a basement hacker's studio filled with servers.

Inoue... is dead.

The hacker who got up muttered something.

What he possessed was Kuroda Rei's complete pupil parameters and key matrix, for which Inoue sacrificed himself.

Recalling the drunkard's curses and the sarcastic remarks of the onlookers whose devices were reading his work, the hacker clenched his fists tightly.

"Don't just stand there dumbfounded, Inoue did a great job."

"Take the things to the chief—"

As someone muttered, he pressed his hand firmly on the hacker's shoulder again.

"As long as the company doesn't die, this kind of thing will keep happening, in an endless cycle."

……

……

(End of this chapter)