Chapter 9 : Towards the World

The white, pristine room feels clean at first glance, but why does the word “death” come to mind?
Why? Because there’s a dead person lying next to me, that’s why.
In this f*cking cyberpunk dystopia, death’s always close, but someone I know dying because of my mistake, right in front of me, leaves a strange taste.

Brain death.
In English, brain death.
A state where the brain, including the brainstem, is irreversibly lost.
In other words, the brain’s dead.
This isn’t like a vegetative state—it’s complete death, a state you can’t wake from by chance.

I saw the drug I injected take effect, but I can’t figure out why it ended up like this.
A body that’s alive but nothing more.
It’s no different from a corpse—you can’t call this saving someone.

If I try, I can still vividly recall her.

A woman who threw herself into the fray for her kid.
Even though a MaxTac bullet could’ve pierced her head for one mistake, she steadied her trembling hands, pretending skill to smuggle cyberware.
Her determination, even scared, even if it wasn’t just, shines clear in my mind.

I shove a cigarette through the gap in my mask.
Smoke that could burn lungs, thick, but it’s only after using it all that it turns to a flicked-away stub.
As I exhale, a slight chill wraps my throat.
Only something near a drug can make me feel anything—does anyone know how pathetic that is?

What’s worse is, despite her image so clear, I feel no sadness.
I thought at least a tear would fall, damn it.
No matter how strong your mind, you can’t ignore the body’s influence.
And for a regular guy like me, stuffed into this body, it’s even harder to ignore.

It’s not an emotional urge to save her.
It’s irritation that things didn’t go my way.
This damn reality—game-like in the weirdest ways but so thorough in only restoring HP.
Is a soul that’s already left beyond saving?

Instead of sadness or regret, a cold clarity rises fast.
I look at her, breathing, flawless, like she could stand any moment.
But yeah, it’s time to admit it.
I failed.
The experiment, the relationship, stopping this sh*tty body from eating my mind—all of it.

…

Frustration twists my face.
Hoping fresh air might ease it, I glance out the window.
There’s nothing more I can do, and I don’t owe her enough to try, but failing, losing—it pisses me off so much I can’t accept it.

The streets are “cleaned,” but the stench of trash lingers.
They’re “safe,” but homeless still clog the roads.
I left those who won’t stand on their own, believing there’s no need to help them, but it’s not a pretty sight.

Is it time to accept I’m a monster fit for this sh*tty city?
My defeat, my failure, my transformation, and the soul I’ve got left.

Arasaka Tower looms, unchanged, flaunting itself as always.
Despite my changes, my defiance claiming I’m different, the tower I smashed still stands tall.
It’s all I see.

…Wait.

A thought flashes through my mind.
There was something like that.
Copying a person’s mind, their soul, into a construct—a digital bundle of 0s and 1s.
A device that digitizes the human psyche.

Soulkiller.

It’s called that because it copies memory traces into a construct and wipes the original soul.
If the brain cells are intact in a brain-dead body, fully preserved…
Then, maybe, just maybe, we could copy her memory traces and bring her back.

“Ha… ha, hahaha—!”
“Boss! What’s—”
“What’s going on?!”

Mad laughter.
It’s been ages since I laughed like this.
My mood clears.
Drunk on laughter, reality, possibility.
Something electrifying pierces my dulled senses, coursing through my veins.
This is… feeling alive.
The sensation of life.
A torrent of emotion crashing over me, where even breathing felt vague.

“From this moment, we expand faster! Every ounce of strength goes to building our foundation!”
“Huh? Faster than this?”
“Boss, that’s near impossible—”

Impossible?
No such thing.

I’m giving the order.

“Shut it.”
“Eek!”
“…Gulp.”

I feel my own excitement.
But this rush—it’s been forever.
I can’t hold back.
No, I don’t want to.
After decades, this feeling’s got me buzzing—holding back would be idiotic.

“We need to grow big enough to crush Arasaka head-on. I could do it now, but… we need to take it all intact.”
“U-understood.”
“As you command.”

I don’t know how far it’s developed or what’s possible now.
But that means I haven’t lost yet.

The joy surging as my anger and frustration find a solution is natural—especially if it can wake my soul from despair.
If it’s possible!

I could storm Arasaka now, smash it to bits, and not care.
But I don’t want to.
Taking Soulkiller intact, collapsing Arasaka entirely, risks losing the program’s trail or flow.

But forget that.
What fills my mind, my soul, isn’t this world’s permitted power—it’s the power I create.
A rebellion against the world.
That’s all it’s for.

Soon, a legend will come to this city.
Someone who’d make history with feats like this.
They might be out there now—man or woman, name still unknown.
Not driving the story, that’s for sure.
Him or her.
Someone will break through Arasaka to reach Soulkiller.
That’s set in stone.
So, I wait.
Until that time, we’ll pave an easy path.
For that, I’d do anything to land a blow on this sh*tty world.
I’ll wait as long as it takes.

“Doeoksini’s command.”
“My god. The Doeoksini? Directly?”
“Yeah.”
“Hell… they never give orders like this. F*ck, forget that—what’s coming? The city… no, the world’s gonna flip.”
“…Yeah.”

They’d ditched their ever-present masks, living ordinary lives.
The streets are far from clean—littered with flaws.
Murder and kidnapping are down, sure, but drugs are everywhere, and people drown in them.
In this world, it’s hardly illegal—it’s normal.
So we don’t stop those who sink into drugs themselves.

We gave them “freedom,” not “control.”
Sure, our turf needs some control, but ruling from above is what sh*tty corporations do.
If we acted like them, got treated like them, I’d probably shove a gun under my chin and pull the trigger with glee.

So we chose to save only those who want saving.
Those who want to escape drugs, help others, or change their lives—we help them.
If they lack that will, it’s just interference.

So we lived among them, faking normalcy, “selecting” who to save.

But now, this moment—
Those hiding among the people began to move.

A command.

From their leader himself.
No time or reason to care about anything else.
To them, the greatest, most precious leader’s command was everything.
For it, their lives were nothing.

We rule part of Santo Domingo.
I don’t know about branches in other districts, but Sixth Street’s branch here is already gone.
That means no one can oppose us here, and no one knows what we do.

They can’t know, and if they figure it out, a blade’s already at their throat.

That’s us.