My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt

Chapter 524 - 342: Desire to Confide

Macao’s economy isn’t doing great.He used to be a boxing prospect too.

His career got cut short and he switched to coaching at a boxing gym because the crappy Prosthetic Body from his contract company caused vascular atrophy and heart contamination.

Gino took on hacker gigs, largely because she wanted to pay for surgery for her brother.

John had been gone for four months.

Rumors slid from "missing" to "dead",

The ashes were practically molding inside a metal box.

The inheritance he left behind didn’t have a clear owner, but back then he’d made it pretty clear to Gino backstage—make a big score, use it to treat Macao and make life better.

But Macao never brought it up, and didn’t automatically claim the money like it was his.

He admitted it very openly:

"I spent the money. Blood dialysis and the artificial heart ate up most of it, the rest went into some small stuff for renovating the gym and daily operations. I’m not trying to run, and I won’t deny it, I just need some time to pay you back."

"...Ha, what the fuck are you even on about."

John chuckled softly, his tone calm.

"That money’s got nothing to do with me anymore. I’m not here to collect, don’t start with this paying-me-back crap, you know I’d never take it."

The least valuable thing in this city is a promise.

Anyone can toss out a light, breezy "I owe you one."

Hardly anyone actually means it.

"What I lost is way more than money..."

John propped his arm on the bar, looking worn-out under the dim lights.

"You and Gino are still here—that’s one of the few things that actually make me feel glad I came back to the city."

Two glasses of "Golden Bullet" were brought over.

The bar counter twisted and stretched across the surface of the glass containers, turning into a completely unrecognizable, grotesque reflection.

"I’ve heard about people kicking open coffin lids, but this is my first time seeing it for real. Heh. Come on, toast to yourself."

Macao could tell John was in a bad mood.

The Bullet glass was a small container, usually filled with straight liquor, but this one in front of him had clearly layered gold droplet streaks.

He clinked glasses with Macao and downed it in one go.

A fierce burning blasted from his mouth down into his digestive tract, the aftershock punching straight up his spine.

"Oh—Fack, I can feel my scalp dancing!"

John’s face actually twisted.

Macao looked in better shape, just bared his teeth a bit. "Honestly, you gotta swap out some internal organs. Fix your gut and kidneys or something, otherwise one of these days you’ll be shooting the shit in a bar and get knocked out by a single specialty cocktail—now that would be hilarious."

John nodded, actually tempted.

He did have some resistance to replacing Prosthetic Bodies.

But the environment doesn’t give you a choice.

Even if John quit being a Mercenary, Eden City’s air was still chewing through healthy lungs, and out on the streets and alleys, in the wasteland outskirts of this city...

Industrial pollution, drug leaks, micro-radiation, water crises—they’re all real.

[New contact added - Macao]

[Unread message *1]

Macao waved and sent over a contact.

"We really put some thought into doing the surgery. Looked into industrial organs, shopped around, and in the end we got someone to introduce us to a Gaia Cells fixer in Palmer. He can get bio—uh, in the medical field? That the word? Anyway, high-end stuff."

He lifted his shirt to show his cooling seam.

The surgical incision and synthetic leather repair job were very clean, you could tell it wasn’t some shady clinic that slaps a sign up after cracking open two bones, but someone straight out of a real hospital.

"He calls himself White Cell. Not cheap... yeah, but it’s still better than the company website prices. All his goods are solid, premium pieces—totally worth it."

[Street Reputation increased ↑ Black Market has unlocked new merchandise.]

"You motherfu—"

The filthy air from the West District alley got pulled into the bar, washing out the alcohol smell. Footsteps and shouting came right up behind John almost at the same time.

Then Gino barreled into him.

"Holy shit, John, you’re alive! Fuck! You’re actually alive!"

Gino’s solid forearm hooked around John’s neck, her whole body practically hanging in the air, like a wrestling move boxers love to use in the ring.

John went down off the high stool with her momentum.

Macao laughed so hard he was pounding the table, yelling that the round was over.

The bartender named Rosie leaned against the bar with a wicked grin, watching lively Gino haul John up off the floor, not even taking an order before she started mixing new drinks.

Gino looked pretty different.

Her old buzz cut with stubble had grown down to her shoulders; the part of her scalp near the cochlear area was shaved clean and now had a tattoo panel added.

Overall, she looked way more brazen.

"I really got a metal box ready for you, man. Didn’t string it up with sisal rope though."

Gino dragged him up from the floor.

John nodded.

"Jilead told me about it. I thought he was the one who did it."

"He came by too. We didn’t post anything on the dark web, so who knew your tombstone would end up here? Lots of people in the city know your name, but the funeral wasn’t exactly crowded."

"The guy lying in the box doesn’t care about that stuff."

John was pretty relaxed about it.

Macao paid a chunk of money up front for drinks and headed out.

He had to rush back and take care of the boxing gym.

Gino folded her legs up on the high stool, half her body slumped across the bar, flirting and bickering with the bartender Rosie.

John noticed Gino’s arm—not wrapped in boxing bandages like before, but patterned with palm patches, and from the wrist up she was wearing a Deep Diving Suit, that tight black cooling material only top-tier hackers could afford.

"You look good."

He said it sincerely.

"Mmhmm, you’re not bad yourself."

Gino’s earrings glinted, her grin bright. "You don’t look like you crawled out of a grave. Oh right, what brings you to me?"

"Well—"

John sat back at the bar, curled his lip and took his drink. "I wanted to talk to someone."

Mercenaries always run into fucked-up shit on jobs.

That’s why bars exist—so in a space full of booze, drugs, dim lights, and outrageous lies, you can spill it all out instead of choking on it.

Angelica used to love hearing stories.

She was also John’s best listener, and only now, after a chain of events, did he suddenly realize how long that girl had been gone.

"You blushing or something?"

Gino gave him a sheepish grin, then knuckled his arm. "Come on, legend, don’t act like it’s your first day on the streets. Wanting to find someone to talk to is normal as hell. Loads of people would line up to hear a guy like you spill the dirty shit that happens in this city."

If someone ran into a legendary Lone Wolf in a bar, no matter what he said, it’d be retold into a hundred different versions on the streets.

John shifted his gaze to the bartender Rosie.

What he wanted to talk about was Saw and the Black Gold Gang secrets.

Gino knew when to shut up; other people, not necessarily.

Anyone who leaked even a whisper of it could end up dying ugly in some narrow back alley.

"Why don’t you and your Mercenary friend grab a seat in the back? You’re not in a rush, right? I’ll send you a fried food takeaway on the house."

"No need to be that nice."

John didn’t feel the need to let the bartender treat him.

Rosie just laughed. "I’m not treating you, Mercenary."

She propped her chin up with one hand, ran her index finger through the salt on the rim of the glass, then gently pressed it to Gino’s lips.

"She’s my girl."

Gino calmly took her hand and introduced Rosie’s other identity to John.