6. Closing the Accounts and Squandering

"You should probably wipe your face first."

Hesitating for a moment, Blanca pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Karl. "You can't really walk around in public looking like that."

"My look?"

Karl, acting with delayed realization, looked at his reflection in a shard of glass in the room. His expression turned grim when he saw the state of his face. "No wonder it felt so sticky."

He wiped his face clean with the handkerchief and handed it back to Blanca.

"Thanks."

'Do normal people really hand back a blood-stained handkerchief without a second thought after using it?'

Blanca’s eye twitched as she looked at her dripping handkerchief. Considering the job had been executed quite impressively, she held back her annoyance, took it back, and watched as Karl began rummaging through the corpses of the Maelstrom gangers.

"What are you doing?"

"Looting cash and picking up guns to sell."

Doesn't she know that scavenging is a mercenary's birthright?

Karl glanced at his employer. What kind of rich kid was she, not even bothering to pick up money lying on the floor?

Realizing she had asked a foolish question, Blanca felt that her brain wasn't functioning quite right in the presence of this killing machine.

Under Blanca’s gaze, it took Karl ten minutes to strip the bodies of their cash and firearms. Neither of them lingered in the room any longer; the business was finished, and there was no point in staying.

On the way downstairs, Karl took the time to loot the three corpses at the entrance as well. He glanced at the car that had brought them there, but in the end, he didn't take it.

It wasn't that he wasn't tempted; it was just that modern vehicles had specialized locking and authentication protocols. He lacked the specialized decryption tools, and his hacking skills were still in their infancy, so he simply couldn't bypass the car's security.

"Do you need a ride?"

Consider it a reward for her prompt payment; Karl was more than willing to give Blanca a lift.

"No need, my car is here."

Karl watched as the optics in Blanca's eyes flickered, and a Villefort Cortes V5000 Valor drove itself from the distance, slowly coming to a halt in front of them.

The Villefort Cortes V5000 Valor is the most valuable model produced by the Villefort factory. Its sleek and elegant design is highly favored by corporate executives, politicians, and high-ranking gang members. Although prone to mechanical failures, its reinforced chassis, built in cooperation with Militech, ensures the safety of its passengers.

The driver’s side door opened automatically. Blanca sat inside but didn't rush to close the door and drive off. Instead, she kept one foot on the floor mat and the other on the ground outside, extending an invitation to Karl. "Do you want a lift?"

A smile finally graced her face. "Consider it for the sake of future collaborations."

It seemed this phone number would be dialed quite often in the future.

Thinking this to himself, Karl declined Blanca's kindness. "I'll just walk back."

"Alright."

Seeing Karl refuse, Blanca didn't press the matter. She waved goodbye, sat upright, pulled the door shut, and drove away. Karl stood there, watching her departure for a long time.

A few minutes later, Karl sighed. "That car must cost at least 370,000 eddies. My commission really is too low."

Originally, Karl had thought 50,000 eddies was a lot, but compared to the car his employer just drove off in...

"Need to work harder next time."

Carrying his bags, Karl headed toward the southern part of Watson. As he walked, he browsed the prices of various vehicles in his mind, only to accidentally stumble upon an advertisement.

"Want to roam the stars? Want to set foot on the moon? Nowadays, a trip to the moon doesn't cost ten million, doesn't cost one million—it only costs 250,000 eddies! Don't just dream, act now..."

A trip to the moon?

Can you just go to the moon these days?

It was a bit tempting.

Karl did have some yearning for the stars. Below the advertisement for the 250,000-eddy, three-day, two-night moon package, he saw the costs for lunar settlement. The total for all the related paperwork and processing fees was...

Five million eddies.

And that didn't even include the cost of a home on the moon.

Curious, Karl checked the price of lunar housing and saw it on News 54.

"The price for an immigrant housing unit is 100 million euros. While the price may seem high, compared to your safety, it is nothing."

One hundred million.

Karl did a quick calculation. He would have to complete two thousand jobs like the one for Blanca to earn that much. Based on the standard of ten deaths per mission, he’d have to kill twenty thousand people to earn 100 million. That was more people than the entire Maelstrom gang had to offer. If he had that kind of time, he might as well go have a chat with a corporate executive.

Fortunately, he had no plans to settle on the moon, though he might try visiting one day if he had the time.

Besides, it probably wasn't any different there.

Karl looked at the example News 54 used to promote their "safe and legal" immigration program. Some corporations used the promise of a lunar paradise to lure people into working themselves to death. He could only say that corporations were the same everywhere; they never changed.

Whether it was bodies shackled by Earth's gravity or the seemingly unfettered freedom of roaming the stars, they were all ultimately blinded by neon lights that shone brighter than the sun.

As he left the northern industrial zone of Watson and saw more and more billboards, Karl decided to treat himself to a steak tonight.

Worm-meat steak—maybe it really did have six times the protein of real beef.

Aside from the two Saratoga submachine guns produced by Militech, Karl sold all the other weapons. With the commission and the loose change he had scavenged, his account balance hit a record high of nearly 60,000.

He’d give one submachine gun to Jackie later, then see what kind of cyberware they wanted. He could front the money for them...

Feeling emboldened by his newfound wealth, Karl walked into a street-side restaurant and ordered a ribeye steak for 20 eddies—something he had never ordered before.

Two minutes later, the worm-meat synthetic steak was served. To mimic the ribs, the meat was decorated with synthetic bone made of hydroxyapatite. It... actually looked the part.

You have to admit, it was 80 percent similar to the real ribeye steak Karl had once eaten.

He wondered how it tasted...

A few seconds later, after cutting a piece of the mushy "beef" with his knife and fork and chewing it, Karl’s face contorted.

Damn it, that was a waste of money.