Great, we're doomed now!

A cool, white light shone from inside, revealing a refrigerator divided into dozens of compartments, each containing a human face. There were men and women, of various skin tones, all neatly encased in transparent resin, like some kind of specimen collection.

Each face is connected to a thin tube at its edge, with the other end of the tube leading to a "preservation" device at the bottom of the refrigerator, where a pale red nutrient solution circulates slowly, ensuring that these faces are always ready for use.

The doctor processed the newly acquired face as usual and placed it in an empty slot.

After finishing his work, he casually picked up a syringe from the workbench and inserted it into the connector at the back of his head. The plunger retracted automatically, and the liquid in the tube poured in all at once. His body shuddered violently, as if struck by an electric current.

Then he slowly sat down, leaned back in his chair, and the green light on the helmet panel dimmed for a moment and then brightened again, flashing slowly and long a few times, as if a person was exhaling a breath.

When the appointed time arrived, the new prosthetic body had been successfully fitted to the body, and the man on the operating table naturally opened his eyes.

He sat up and stretched his facial muscles, touched his face, and glanced at the reflective surface of the metal cabinet next to him.

Then his first question was: "Where is my original face?"

"It hasn't been processed yet." The doctor sat in the chair, his voice coming from inside the helmet, with a slight electronic tone, like someone half-asleep talking in their sleep, "You're an original, which is rare these days... so we kept you."

He paused, and the green light on his helmet turned towards the man.

"You can sell it to me, or you can take it with you. If you find that troublesome, I offer a storage service at a fair price. And if you want your face back in the future—"

The man didn't hesitate: "No need, just destroy it."

It seems like I'm the type who needs to completely cut ties with the past.

The doctor didn't say much, got up, walked to the refrigerator, reopened the door, and took the face out of the compartment. Disposing of it was simple; just put it in the recycling bin and pack it up.

—Just kidding, this is "real leather" after all, and its price is much higher than that of imitation leather. How can we just waste it like this?

David, who had been sitting, stood up, walked to the table, and placed a backpack and a black card on it.

The man walked over, picked up the card, and the electronic eye scanned the card. A chip-like stripe flashed across the surface of the black card and then quickly disappeared without leaving any trace.

But he seemed to have gotten the information he wanted. He nodded, changed into the clothes David had brought without saying a word, grabbed his backpack, and turned to walk towards the door.

"Wait a moment."

The man paused, his hand resting on his backpack strap, and turned to look at David in the corner, his eyes filled with wariness.

The doctor spoke, still in that slow, deliberate tone.

"The face has been destroyed, but please pay the processing fee."

The man was silent for two seconds, then walked back expressionlessly and casually tossed a few anonymous chips to him; they were just a small amount of money to him.

"The modeling data for the new face?" he asked before leaving.

"I made it right away, I didn't save any," the doctor said.

Only then did the man truly feel relieved...

The "Madcow" of the past no longer exists. He has a new face, a new identity and resume, and even nanomachines that can fool DNA testing. Although the price is to say goodbye to everything in the past, it is worth it.

After all, he knew he couldn't be a burden to the organization, and after doing that thing, he was already in despair of being silenced... to be given a chance to start over was already incredibly lucky.

We also have to thank David Martinez. I never imagined the rumors were true. A guy from a poor, impoverished neighborhood actually has the ability to "launder" people's money. Given time, he'll probably become a legend in the underworld.

Stepping outside, Madcow… no, the current “Firebird” stands on a high floor of the slum district, looking down at the city filled with all sorts of lights.

"Where should I go?" he muttered to himself. "After all, the nights in Night City are full of endless possibilities."

-

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away along the corridor.

David leaned against the operating table, spoke a few words into the communicator, briefly explaining that the mission was over and asking the other party to arrange for a backup.

After hanging up, he tossed the communicator onto the table, sat back down on the pile of scrap, and crossed one leg over his shoulder.

“Hey.” David suddenly spoke, and the green light slanted toward him.

“That line on the sign,” David gestured with his chin toward the door, “is that the soul is hidden in the folds of the skin—does anyone who says something like that have religious beliefs?”

The doctor didn't answer immediately; the green light on the helmet panel flickered, as if expressing some kind of surprise.

“…That’s strange.” His voice came from inside the helmet, his tone warmer than when he was performing surgery. “You’re the second person to ask that question.”

"My teacher told me that I should pay attention to details, especially those things that I don't understand."

David shrugged: "I've never seen a sign like this before."

The doctor leaned back in his chair, as if staring at David, even though he had no eyes on his face.

"First of all, that's just advertising language. People in this industry always need something impressive to impress others, something that sounds more sophisticated than 'professional face swapping'."

"And then?" David understood the implication in his words.

"...Aristotle believed that the body and soul are related as form and substance, and the body is the form in which the soul exists in the material world."

David blinked but didn't interrupt—he wasn't very good at philosophical topics.

Even if you've learned a lot from someone, how can a young person in the prime of their life possibly think about topics like the soul and self?

The doctor held up a slender finger and lightly touched the air with the tip: "The soul is not something that exists independently of the body... In fact, one could say that the human soul is shaped by the body."

If a ghost has a shape, it will have the shape of a physical body; if it has a face, it will resemble a human face.

He lowered his hand, his voice unconsciously slowing down.

“I’ve been interested in dolls since I was a child. As a prosthetics therapist, I’ve been able to come into contact with all kinds of people’s faces, but I always felt something was off—I couldn’t touch their souls at all.”

David looked at him, then at the refrigerator in the corner filled with faces: "So you became a prosthetic doctor?"

"To be precise, I'm a face sculptor," the doctor said. "I personally created each face, and the people who received the face transplants experienced some changes in personality and behavior—it's very interesting."

He paused, and a soft laugh came from inside his helmet.

"In other words, by shaping their 'faces,' their souls are affected."

David was silent for a moment, his brows slowly furrowing, as if he were chewing on these words.

Why are you so obsessed with the 'soul'?

The doctor didn't answer. The green light on the helmet dimmed for a moment, and he remained silent for a long time, so long that David thought he wasn't going to answer and was about to get up and leave when he finally heard him speak.

“I was born without a physical body.”

David stopped moving.

"Ordinary people first have physical perception, and gradually realize their own existence through interaction with the world. Even if they later get a prosthetic body, their original soul will remain."

But I am different. My self-awareness was formed in electronic signals. Sound, touch, images, pain, emotional reactions—all of them are virtual. I have never had my own flesh and blood for a single second.

So, I've been obsessed with this since I was a child, wanting to know if I actually have that thing inside me—Ghost.

David stared at the doctor's faceless metal helmet. The operating lights on the operating table still reflected a blinding cold light, while the faint glow of neon signs outside the window shone through the blinds, cutting the room into thin stripes of red and blue.

"Even if you're fully cybernetically enhanced... you should still have a brain, right?"

Can you see your own brain?

"..."

The doctor said casually, "Besides, even if you see it, how do you know it's not an artificial image transmitted to you by an electronic eye?"

David paused for a moment, unable to think of a rebuttal, and simply gave up—after all, it was just an extremely boring conversation.

"Huh? You mean I'm the second person to ask you this?"

The boy pointed to himself: "Then who was the first?"

“Being too curious with black market doctors isn’t a good thing… but I won’t hurt to tell you, since you know that person.”

"!"

A name quietly surfaced in David's mind, and he suddenly felt a sense of realization.

Indeed, the "teacher" knows a lot of strange people... or conversely, it is because of him that those who originally possessed certain potential will "awaken".

That person was very prestigious, with undeniable charisma and popularity, but his leadership style differed from ordinary leadership; it was a unique charm, or rather, a "devilish allure."

This type of person appears most frequently in detective novels. Calling them the mastermind is an insult to them; they are more like mentors (psychologists) to villains, carrying divine revelation for them...

Some abnormal individuals, if lacking a trigger, may remain normal people their entire lives, but after encountering a "mentor" and realizing they are abnormal, they inevitably fall into depravity.

(By the way, probably because mystery novels have such a huge influence in Japan, old-school creators like to create similar characters, and almost every Type-Moon work has one... typical examples are Araya Souren and Gilgamesh from World War IV.)

David felt that his teacher, Kuseyo Mori, was such a transcendent being.

The more experience and connections he gained in Night City, the more people he encountered who had been in contact with his teacher and were changed as a result... David himself was no exception.

However, his stance is exactly the opposite of that of the "evil mentor." He did not specifically incite others to evil, but rather inspired their unique vitality, allowing them to find their own path.

"Well... goodbye then, please do me a favor next time you have business with me."

goodbye."

The doctor raised his head slightly: "By the way, when you see Mr. Kuze, please give him my regards."

-

"But I haven't seen him in a while," David muttered on his way home.

Ye Shou was originally subject to mission cycle restrictions, and he had to leave after staying for a month each time. After a large number of wanderers, including the Mann team, were "smuggled" over, the demand for talent over there was not as great, and Ye Shou also became "lazy", only showing up occasionally.

David originally followed Ye Shou to learn and assist him in order to better survive in Night City, but as he grew up and basically solved his survival problems, he couldn't help but start to crave more.

So, some things Ye Shou had said in the past, but which he hadn't listened to in a casual way, recently came back to mind, prompting him to "review the old and learn the new".

It's true... the more I think about it, the more I yearn for that person!

—If a psychologist were to diagnose David, they would conclude that he used the image of Ye Shou to fill the void of the "father" role in his life.

Although the two are not much different in age, David instinctively regarded her as a role model to aspire to and strive for, and the deep affection between them could even be described as "admiration".

He misses Ye Shou very much and desperately needs to see him again to express his confusion and doubts during this period and hopes to receive his guidance.

However, he also knew that the other party was elusive and rarely seen.

"Hey, good evening. It's been a while, David."

"……teacher?"

David had only gone back to the small clinic out of habit to pack his things, but he never expected to see Ye Shou, whom he had been longing to see, there. He was so excited that he shouted out.

As for Lucy, Ruri, and Carmilla who were with Ye Shou, he ignored them, focusing all his attention on that man.

"H-long time no see, teacher!"