The next day, still in Japantown, inside Wakako Okada’s pachinko parlor.
Arthur leaned against the doorway, watching the old woman, her expression calm as ever.
“As beautiful as always. I knew if I ca to you, the problem would be solved.”
She fussed with the teaware in her hands, as if she’d never tire of it.
“You don’t seem too interested in that place…”
Arthur spoke evenly, studying her gentle face.
“Simple logic. If you don’t want conflict, don’t take what isn’t yours.
My actions may look harsh, but… in this city, nothing is cheaper than a human life.”
Arthur shook his head and let out a heavy breath.
“I shouldn’t have asked about all that ss.
But the job you gave —I took it, and it worked out. So let’s just say… good business.”
“Good business indeed, my friend.”
With that, Wakako turned, retrieving a slender case from behind her. Exquisite white carvings decorated the surface, depicting a tiger staring forward.
“The promised gift. You know, I’m Japanese. I like… things from ho.
And this is a treasure of mine.”
Arthur stepped forward, accepted the box, and felt its solid weight.
“What is it?”
“Byakko—a Japanese blade. In both material and craftsmanship, it’s top-class.”
The old woman smiled as she explained, but Arthur stopped paying attention after hearing the key words.
“A knife? For cutting fruit?”
Of course, he didn’t say it aloud. His tongue was often sharp, but with elders like her, he kept himself in check.
“Alright… but… I probably won’t have much use for it.”
“That’s fine. Pass it on if you want. I won’t mind.
Just don’t hand it off to a collector. It’s been silent here far too long.”
...
On the way back, Arthur carried the case on his back, but his mind was elsewhere.
What to do with that gold? It almost felt like he could move ahead with the final plan from his past life—disappear.
But that was unrealistic. In this world, he wasn’t alone anymore.
Arthur soon arrived at Vik’s dimly lit clinic.
From inside ca the sound of cheering—clearly, Vik had so downti.
The door opened, and Vik peeked out from behind a screen, shifting light flickering across his face.
“Arthur… what brings you here?”
Arthur unstrapped the case from his back and set it on the table in front of Vik, pulling a chair over.
“Oh—Vik.”
Arthur spread his hands on the table, tilting his head.
“You’ll never guess what I ca across.”
“This?”
Vik picked up the case and weighed it in his hand.
“This is a clinic, but you treat it like an armory.”
“It’s not that—”
Arthur rasped, tapping the table with his finger.
“I took on a job recently. Ca into so unexpected fortune.”
Then, lowering his voice:
“A batch of gold.”
Vik froze mid-motion, his eyes snapping to Arthur as if to make sure he wasn’t joking.
After a long pause, he asked, voice heavy:
“How much?”
“About thirty pounds.”
Arthur thought back to the weight slung on his shoulder before answering.
Vik did a quick conversion in his head—about fifteen kilos—then pressed again.
“Not many people know about this, do they?”
Seeing how serious Vik had beco, Arthur lost his casual tone.
“Rebecca knows. The brat’s been around a lot lately.”
After a mont, he added,
“She’s reliable.”
“And the origin—don’t tell you stole it from a corp.”
“Clouds. That notorious laundering pit. Took it straight from the owner.
And no one lived to talk about it.”
At that, Vik’s expression finally eased a little.
“Is it really that big a problem? Sure, it’s a lot of gold, but—”
Vik cut him off, voice firm.
“You don’t get it. Gold isn’t just a precious tal. Every neural module in cyberware needs trace amounts of it—and it’s damn near impossible to recover.
These days, gold’s a strategic resource. Every corp guards it like treasure.”
Arthur nodded slowly, realization dawning.
“Looks like this haul’s worth more than I thought.”
“It’s not that simple. Corps and governnts are cracking down harder than ever.
Like sharks slling blood.”
Vik poured cold water over the thought, and Arthur sighed.
“So what, we just sit on it? That’s worse than having nothing.”
“Take it slow. Break it into batches—you’ll move it eventually, but it’ll take ti.
If you’ve got a fixer you trust completely, try them. They’ve got the channels for this.”
Arthur shrugged, and Vik’s gaze drifted back to the case—the blade Wakako had given him.
“This is a fine piece. Where’d you get it?”
“Wakako gave it to …”
Arthur answered vaguely.
“Two hundred years ago, blades like this were already rare.”
Vik chuckled, shaking his head.
“In your hands, it’s a pearl lost in the mud.
You can’t expect a gunman to swing a sword—that’s a step backward.
Like forcing to live in a tree.”
Arthur stood.
“Leave the gold here for now. Sell it slow.
If it really won’t move, just make Jackie a bracelet out of it. But don’t let it cause trouble.”
Arthur didn’t care much for wealth.
Good whiskey, bad whiskey—it all tasted the sa to him.
Back then, all he wanted was for the gang to live well—money, a big farm, the dream of a better life.
But in this life, if you dared set your gun down, you risked ending up in the morning’s Body Lotto.
And farmland? Corps owned all of it. Ordinary people couldn’t touch it.
...
After finishing up, Arthur headed ho, where Rebecca was still guarding the stash.
His biotrics unlocked the door, and he stepped into his place—where empty bottles served as the floor.
Rebecca sat cross-legged on the coffee table. Despite the cushy sofa, she preferred perching on the glass top.
The mont she saw him, she hopped down and ran over.
“Seventy-three bars in total!”
“Looks like we made quite a haul…”
Arthur walked in, speaking casually.
“So, figured out what you’ll do with your retirent yet?”
Rebecca didn’t answer right away. She looked at him, troubled.
“What now…”
“Arthur… have you decided to retire?”
Her wide eyes carried an unusual hint of unease—rare for Rebecca.
“You’re really hung up on this, huh.”
Arthur thought for a mont, then explained.
“But aside from this line of work, I’m not good at much else.”
At that, Rebecca broke into a smile and hurried to catch up with him.
“I just want enough to get my lousy brother a proper prosthetic leg—and maybe a shop to run.
Other than that… nothing.
Life’s fine the way it is.”
She didn’t seem to have much concept of money either.
rcs chased cash and glory all their lives. But once you actually had a fortune, the emptiness that followed was real.
Arthur almost saw Dutch’s shadow in her.
When an era dies, it always takes so souls with it.
Old enough to know their way in the world, yet too new to truly belong.
...
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