“This thing... it’s for relaying intel...”
“Hic!”
V waved her hand in front of him and continued.
“Sothing those Highriders ca up with.”
Arthur hugged the bottle to his chest with a goofy grin—there was no prying it from him now.
When it ca to drinking... at least with this man, he wouldn’t be pulling the gun from his hip.
At the ntion of the Highriders, he tilted his head and squinted at her.
“What... thing...?”
The Cyberware in Arthur’s body was crafted by Crystal Palace, so he knew well enough about the space-born Highriders.
“This thing... it’s called a Blackwall Worm. Only those lunatics up there would dare ss with it...
It slips through almost any barrier—absolute communication.
If... if sothing happens to , at least I won’t end up rotting in so junkyard.
If you can drag back alive, fine. If not... just bury .”
Swaying slightly, V held the chip out to Arthur.
As for why she didn’t give it to Jackie... as she put it, she was afraid he’d punch it straight out of her hands.
Arthur shrugged, reached out, and closed his fist around the small chip.
...
The next day, when Arthur woke, he was already lying in bed.
He couldn’t really rember how he’d gotten ho, but his hand instinctively searched his pockets.
His fingers soon touched the hard surface of the chip.
Closing his eyes again, he decided to sleep a little longer.
...
anwhile, in Santo Domingo.
Compared to the decadence of Watson District, this place felt far more humble. The workers labored day and night, yet a numbing perseverance kept them going.
It was strange—this place was even more run-down than Watson, yet it carried a spirit that felt more resilient.
Or maybe Watson wasn’t ruined at all—the real rot was its own indulgence.
Santo Domingo, on the other hand, had a dry, earthy toughness, shaped both by its gangs and its history.
As the only district untouched by the Fourth Corporate War, it had once sheltered countless refugees—
including the corporations’ so-called “dignitaries.”
But the corporations never cared about its sacrifices. During Night City’s reconstruction, the demand for power led to nearly all the low-rise hos being demolished, replaced with sprawling, polluting power plants.
As with the district itself, the people here never saw any reward for their past sacrifices.
Or maybe working in more modern factories, with slightly better conditions, was the closest thing to a benefit they would get.
The Canyon District, bordering Heywood, was one of Santo Domingo’s more vibrant areas.
At least compared to Coronado—self-sufficient and shut off—it was more alive.
Inside a decently spacious apartnt, the atmosphere was loud.
After making so money, David had moved out of the H4 gabuilding in Santo Domingo and settled here with Lucy.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched a broad, sunlit balcony.
People often mocked Rancho Coronado’s hamster wheel, but even so, its greenery brought so life to the industrial zone.
At that mont, David and Lucy stood in front of the balcony doors, looking helpless.
On the floor before them, Gloria was throwing a tantrum—rolling, kicking, and wailing.
Watching an adult act like that was unsettling, to say the least.
To be precise, David was the one fretting. Lucy, arms crossed, simply watched with an amused smile.
Sunlight fell across her short white hair, glinting with a faint pinkish shimr.
“Co on...”
Leaning against the doorknob, David slid down until he landed on the floor.
“Don’t do this... you can’t go out on the balcony...”
The boy looked completely defeated. Since Gloria couldn’t really communicate, all he could do was stare up at her helplessly.
“What am I supposed to do... like this...”
He let out a long sigh and turned toward Lucy on the sofa.
“Why don’t you try coaxing her again?”
All he got in response was an eye-roll and silence.
Grinding his teeth, David ruffled his hair before stepping forward himself.
“Please, cut it out. You absolutely can’t go on the balcony.”
Frowning, he tried to pull the woman off the floor, but she resisted even harder.
David wasn’t the sa as before; overpowering one woman would normally be easy... but—
The woman in front of him was one of only two people in this world he dared not provoke. The other was sitting on the sofa behind him.
Lucy, though, wasn’t really cold-faced. Instead, she watched with a soft smile as the boy wrestled with his mother.
It was such an ordinary, even slightly annoying scene—yet it filled her gaze completely.
The sunlight had never felt this warm. She realized she was beginning to cherish it.
Maybe the moon’s cold solitude was ant only for the truly lonely.
Because the sun was infinitely fair.
“Ow... ow... hey—”
David’s ear was tugged again, and he winced, exaggerating the pain to make the woman in his arms laugh.
At least he’d figured out how to cheer her up, even if it cost him his ears.
So habits, it seed, were carved deep into the body.
As her smile slowly blood, David kept up the act of wincing, though the grin tugging at his lips was impossible to hide.
“We should eat.”
Lucy dropped the words coolly as she stepped lightly toward the downstairs kitchen.
The sun ward the polished floor, soft beneath her bare feet.
“Hey, I want beef noodles!”
David craned his neck to shout, then glanced at his mother and added,
“...Sa for her.”
When the three of them finally sat down to lunch, Gloria quieted at last, fiddling with her utensils.
anwhile, David grabbed his bowl and chopsticks, slurping noisily.
“These next six months... are we all just taking a break?”
“Uh... yeah...”
David looked up mid-bite, answering vaguely.
“But I still need to head out once. Took a job—can’t afford to break the deal.”
Lucy gave a slight nod, lowered her head, and stabbed at her food.
Her chopsticks lifted steaming noodles, but she paused, then looked up again.
“Oh, and... I’m fine like this.”
Her cheeks burned as if embarrassed by how honest she’d just been. Quickly, she lowered her head and bit hard into the noodles.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser
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