"You don't understand how Night City works. Every inch of land here is worth its weight in eddies. The academy itself is barely keeping its head above water—how could we possibly afford to build dormitories?"
After patiently listening to Arthur's proposal, the principal quickly shut it down with a practiced corporate smile. His tone was calm, but firm.
Arthur had expected as much.
Though the principal didn't deny the validity of Arthur's points, he couldn't connect them to Arasaka Academy's bottom line. If a student were to die? So what. The family had already paid the tuition. The loss of one student wouldn't dent their quarterly report. Building dormitories was an expensive endeavor, and from the academy's standpoint, completely unnecessary.
Arthur didn't react. Calmly, he lifted his teacup, took a small sip, and offered a casual smile.
"You've been in this position for quite so ti now, haven't you?"
The principal's eyes narrowed slightly. He hesitated before giving a small nod, curious where Arthur was going with this.
In truth, Arasaka Academy was more of a gilded cage for retired middle-managers than a real institution of education. The principal's title sounded impressive, but in practice, it was largely ceremonial. Most classes were run by advanced AIs, optimized to teach more efficiently than any human ever could. The human staff—what little remained—were relics, placeholders waiting for final redundancy.
Soon even the janitors would be replaced by robots. The machines were more precise, cheaper, and less likely to unionize.
"Power... is an illusion," the principal muttered under his breath, surprising even himself. "What's the point of flexing influence when it ans nothing? We're just at sitting in front of machines without souls."
Arthur leaned forward, sensing the vulnerability. His voice dropped just a little, sincere but sharp. "I get it. You've hit a ceiling. Arasaka doesn't care unless you're generating profits. If you don't contribute to their bottom line, you're just scenery."
The principal blinked slowly, visibly uncomfortable. Arthur's words had landed deeper than expected.
"And yet," Arthur continued smoothly, "opportunity is always there—for those brave enough to take it."
He let the silence linger for a beat, watching the principal process the statent.
"You're talking about... the dormitory?" the principal asked, finally seeing the bigger picture.
Arthur nodded, lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "Exactly. But not just any dormitory. I'm talking about a luxury dorm experience. Elevator access, rooftop gardens, a heated sky pool—the works. Every inch of it outfitted with Arasaka's own top-grade systems."
He leaned in slightly. "Now imagine this—how much do you think we could charge per sester for accommodation like that?"
The principal's eyes flicked up, his mind already calculating.
Arthur didn't slow down. "We manage the dorm privately. Add a dining hall, a boutique grocery store, maybe a few retail partnerships. Keep it closed circuit. Everything 'for safety,' of course. Higher prices than outside, but safer. More convenient. Parents will love it."
He let that sink in, watching the gears turn in the man's head.
This wasn't just about student safety anymore. This was a scalable, profitable micro-economy nestled neatly inside the academy's walls. With the right branding, it could even be spun as a 'prestige upgrade.'
Arthur finished his tea and placed the cup gently on the table.
"Arasaka Academy is financially autonomous, isn't it? You're not bound by the sa restrictions as the other divisions. All it takes is a bit of initiative. Apply for a credit line based on company trust ratings. Fra it as a student security investnt."
The principal's hand began to tremble—just slightly. He stood abruptly, the spark of ambition lighting up his face. He reached out and shook Arthur's hand with genuine excitent.
"Sir, your suggestion is... genius. You're right. For the safety of our students, we absolutely need to move toward closed-loop managent!"
Arthur smiled modestly. "It's always about the kids, isn't it?"
With the principal eating from his hand, Arthur decided to take it a step further.
"And as for David," he began, waving a hand dismissively, "his little incident with the wtwo equipnt was unintentional. You know what they say—'no cri without proper guidance.' I've spoken to him, and he regrets it deeply. I'll even waive the damages."
The principal, now practically glowing with enthusiasm, gave a vigorous nod. "That's very generous of you, sir."
Arthur added with a casual shrug, "I also dabble in machinery. I could take a look at the equipnt, see if I can't patch it up myself. Might save us both so paperwork."
The principal paused, pleasantly surprised. "A chanical expert, too?"
Arthur raised his eyebrows with mock modesty. "I can handle myself."
The principal bead. "Well, that makes things easier. Don't worry about the repair costs or any accommodation fees. We receive private donations annually. I think it's high ti David benefited from one."
Arthur smiled, concealing the satisfaction behind his eyes. The man had bitten, hook and line. "Much appreciated. Shall we get to work, then?"
The two of them walked down the corridor toward the computer lab that had been damaged during David's hack. It had already been reassigned to another class. Like most things in Night City, the building was modular—easy to swap, replace, or abandon.
When they entered, Arthur sized up the equipnt. So scorched circuits, a few lted inputs. Costic damage, mostly. Nothing beyond repair.
"Let's take a look," he said, already rolling up his sleeves.
Truth be told, Arthur wasn't expecting a miracle. But he knew the principal didn't care whether the machines got fixed—he just needed plausible deniability, a show that action had been taken.
As Arthur cracked open the casing of the main console, he smiled to himself.
In Night City, business wasn't about solving problems. It was about appearing to solve them.
And sotis, that was enough to win.
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