"Good morning, Night City! Yesterday's death lottery across all districts added up to just four fatalities. I bet no one saw that number coming. Who knows how many people bet everything and lost it all? You all owe a big thank-you to the officers of the NCPD. If those donut-munching, gun-slinging cops hadn't stopped you from cashing in, the death count wouldn't have been less than twenty.
anwhile, the Maelstrom gang caused another stir in the Kabuki district yesterday. Those cybernetics-obsessed lunatics can't seem to sit still for even a second. Over in Heywood, the Valentinos appear to have run into so trouble. They didn't even celebrate Día de los Muertos, their traditional holiday. Instead, they were running around the streets in disarray with their pants barely on. One thing after another in this city, huh?
Oh, and Pacifica is still the sa old Pacifica. I think City Hall should give them an award for keeping the peace for yet another day.
Anyway, I'm your best buddy, Stan. Let's kick off another day of chasing dreams in Night City!"
The loud and chaotic broadcast jolted Karl awake.
"Damn it. My head hurts."
Karl opened his eyes, feeling his back against a wall. His vision was blurry, a kaleidoscope of garish, clashing colors assaulting his eyes. The brightness was almost more overwhelming than keeping his eyes closed.
These billboards are way too bright, he muttered.
As his brain slowly processed the information coming into his clearing vision, Karl realized he was lying in a stinking garbage heap in a high-rise apartnt building. Through a railing barely 1.2 ters high, he could see the view of the courtyard below.
Neon signs filled every possible space, blinking and flashing in dazzling colors, as if competing to outshine one another. Their glow cast a surreal, dreamlike hue over Karl's surroundings.
Feeling a deep discomfort throughout his body, Karl forced himself to stand up, wincing at the ache in his muscles. He looked around, taking in his surroundings.
The corridor of the apartnt building was about 100 ters long. Groups of people dressed in bizarre, futuristic outfits stood in clusters, chatting. No one paid any attention to Karl, who had just climbed out of the garbage heap.
What the hell is this?
As the fog in his mind began to lift, Karl tried to recall his last mory before passing out.
Karl—first na Ka, last na Er. As soone with such a rare surna, Karl's life had been fairly unremarkable. Aside from being decently good-looking and enjoying video gas, there wasn't much noteworthy about him.
In his mory, he had been watching a gaplay demo video for a certain ga.
And then?
His mory cut off there. His last clear thought was simply watching that video.
What the hell?
As Karl replayed that last scene in his mind, he suddenly froze.
The gaplay demo he rembered was for Cyberpunk 2077.
And the last scene he rembered was identical to what he was seeing now.
This ga skyscraper... wasn't it the sa one where the protagonist V lived in the demo video?!
Only now did Karl take a serious look at the bizarrely dressed people around him. At first glance, he had thought their outfits were just strange. But upon closer inspection, the jumbled ss of gadgets and machinery on their bodies—weren't those cybernetics?!
Cybernetics—artificial augntations resembling prosthetics—were a staple of futuristic sci-fi. They were biological and dical technologies of the future, replacing defective or fragile parts of the human body with machinery or synthetic materials.
Could these things really be real?
Karl's gaze swept over a passing resident of the apartnt. When his eyes wandered to the space between the person's legs—more precisely, the groin area—he imdiately beca convinced he had transmigrated.
And why was that?
Because it was glowing!Damn it, that guy's crotch was glowing! And it could even change colors. What was this, so kind of LGBT-thed rainbow effect?!
In Karl's experience, sothing this absurd was not sothing he'd ever seen in his own country.
To suddenly find himself in a place identical to the one in the video, and then witness such a shocking scene... Oh, and this wasn't just a figure of speech. The guy with the glowing crotch was actually moving—his shoulders twitching as if he were having a seizure. His lower half glowed, and his body jerked uncontrollably as he shuffled along.
Standing in the garbage heap, Karl didn't block the glowing man's path. The guy shuffled past him, and Karl climbed out of the trash pile, holding onto a faint hope that all of this wasn't real. But as he stood by the railing and looked up toward the open courtyard, a hovercar flew past overhead.
Well, ti to accept reality.
Karl didn't mind using his filthy hands to pat his cheeks, snapping himself fully awake as he ca to terms with his transmigration.
In his original world, while concept vehicles referred to as hovercars had been developed, they were nothing compared to the high-speed vehicles he saw zipping through the sky here. The technological gap between the two worlds wasn't sothing that could be bridged in just a few years. Faced with this reality, what else could Karl do but accept it?
At least he had ended up in the familiar Cyberpunk world, rather than so grimdark Warhamr 40K universe. At least here, he didn't have to wail like a banshee whose toes had been stepped on.
Karl stood by the railing for a while, waiting for so kind of system notification. Nothing ca. It seed his transmigration was a lonely one, with no cheat systems or companions to chat with.
Could it be a soul transmigration? Maybe I'll get so mories from the original owner of this body?
Just as he was thinking this, a carefree apartnt resident walked by, pulled down his pants, and urinated not far from Karl. In the strange-colored liquid, Karl caught a glimpse of his own reflection.
Damn, it's a full-body transmigration.
But sothing seed... off.
Staring at the reflection, which looked like a young man around 18 or 19 years old, Karl still vividly rembered that he was 24.
Did they throw in a youth restoration service? Five stars for that.
Ignoring the groggy man who nearly collapsed face-first into his own puddle, Karl strolled through the apartnt building, trying to figure out the current year.
As for the date, Karl had already pieced it together from the voice of Stanley, the Night City broadcaster, which he had vaguely heard earlier. Stanley had ntioned Día de los Muertos, a xican holiday similar to the Ghost Festival. According to Karl's mory, it was celebrated on November 1st or 2nd. By that logic, today had to be November 2nd or 3rd.
And how did Karl know this? Because he had watched an animated movie called Coco, which was inspired by Día de los Muertos.
After walking a few steps, Karl found the exact information he was looking for.
On one of the ever-changing billboards in the hallway, an ad displayed the date.
It was an advertisent for the "death lottery," and the date written on it was:November 3, 2075.
"2075?"What the hell happened? I have no idea...
As Karl mulled over this, he suddenly realized he might not be entirely without a "golden finger."
The text and the broadcasts he had seen and heard so far were in a language and script completely unfamiliar to him. And yet, he could understand them perfectly.
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