46. Prosthetic Vajra

Holding a crispy piece of bread exuding the rich aroma of wheat in his left hand, savoring it alongside a creamy, flavorful soup, and using his right hand to fork a cut piece of potato frittata into his mouth, Karl swore this was the most satisfying meal he had eaten since arriving in 2075.

Eating food made with genuine, quality ingredients really made a difference.

After spending ten minutes finishing his order of two potato frittatas and a bowl of creamy mushroom soup with bread, Karl asked the shop owner to pack up another three portions of the creamy mushroom soup and six portions of the potato frittata. Having tasted the food, Karl was certain of how delicious these two dishes were, and he simply had to pack some back for Jake and the others to try.

1160 eddies—that was the total for Karl's lunch plus the takeout. The fee for the packaging boxes was waived, considering Karl had bought so much in one go.

After paying the bill, Karl lifted the stack of food, which had been securely packaged by the attendant so that nothing would spill, with one hand.

In Night City, maintaining a necessary level of vigilance was still a must; at least one hand had to remain free at all times.

Karl carried the food toward the entrance, just as someone was walking in from the outside.

It was a male Arasaka corp-rat wearing a company uniform.

Their eyes met. Karl did not recognize the fellow, but after a moment of dazed hesitation, the guy recognized Karl.

Immediately afterward, Karl clearly saw an intensely emotional sense of fear flicker within the man's cyberware eyes.

Ah... these days, can you actually read emotions straight out of artificial eyes?

"You go ahead."

When a corp-rat crossed paths with him, Karl always chose to yield the right of way. The reason was simple: would anyone bother haggling over priority with a stray dog?

"Yes, thank you so much!"

The Arasaka corp-rat, whose body had already begun to tremble, visibly breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Karl's words. He forced out a smile and nodded amicably at Karl, acting just like a fawn-like lackey trying to ingratiate himself with his master, before carefully stepping past Karl's side and entering the shop.

The corp-rat, who served in a security role at Arasaka, felt a mix of secret anguish and silent relief.

*How did I run into this God of Slaughter here... Thank goodness he's in a good mood.*

Karl hadn't recognized this particular Arasaka corp-rat, but the guy certainly remembered Karl. He had been among the security personnel tasked with protecting Hanako Arasaka, and he had witnessed firsthand the terrifying capability the man displayed during that mission. That was not someone he could afford to provoke.

One step, two steps. Just as a strange sense of euphoria—akin to escaping the clutches of a cyberpsycho—welled up in the Arasaka employee's chest, the voice coming from behind him made his body stiffen once more.

"Hold on a second, I think I remember you now."

Karl hadn't recognized him by his face, but seeing the silhouette of his back made him feel a bit familiar. "You were one of the security guards from before, right?"

"Y-Yes, it's me..."

Hurryingly spinning around, the Arasaka employee of Asian descent instinctively wanted to bow, but Karl casually raised a hand to stop him.

"I'm not your boss, no need to be so polite."

Saying that, Karl smiled at him. "Though the first time we were ambushed, you guys just stood by watching us fight for our lives, and later you couldn't even protect the target, almost causing a total wipe of our team—which really pissed me off—considering how hard you guys fought alongside Jake and the others later on, I'll let that annoyance slide."

Karl's palm gently patted the shoulder of the Arasaka employee, who didn't dare move an inch. "Relax, I'm not some stereotypical Asian who slaughters entire families just because I'm ticked off. Annoyed as I might be, it won't go so far as to implicate your whole family."

As Karl spoke, he gave another pat, though this one was a bit heavier, nearly causing the Arasaka employee's legs to buckle and forcing him to kneel on the ground.

"If you piss me off again next time, the only member of your family who dies will be you."

Karl was a very principled man. Whoever pissed him off was the only one he would target, and he always gave them a first chance, but lightning didn't strike twice.

Next time, people would actually die. Better be careful.

Listening to Karl's words and feeling the palm resting on his shoulder—a hand that could snap his neck along his shoulder blades at any moment—the Arasaka employee nodded frantically, terrified that Karl might miss his "sincerity."

"A duty like that is something you really ought to finish properly."

Just spectating was something Karl could actually accept; mercenaries were long prepared to be used as cannon fodder, and as long as the pay was sufficient, it wasn't a big deal. But when security personnel failed to fulfill their duties and let the target get injured, dragging the others down with them, that was an entirely different matter.

Anticipated risks were different from being dragged down by incompetence, and the level of anger sparked by each varied accordingly.

Having finished his warning to the Arasaka employee, Karl noticed the gazes cast over by other people inside the shop. Although neither Karl nor the Arasaka employee had spoken very loudly, the habit of gawking at drama seemed universal across all nationalities. A mercenary-looking individual making an Arasaka employee bow and nearly kneel—no matter where it happened, that was prime material for rubbernecking.

Unwilling to become the subject of people's gossip, Karl stopped talking to the Arasaka employee. He withdrew his hand, swept his gaze across the restaurant, and walked out of the shop under the watchful eye of the Arasaka employee, who was bathed in cold sweat and feeling like he had just cheated death.

*Strange.*

Walking out of the shop, Karl wasn't thinking about the Arasaka employee, but rather about the scene he had caught in that final sweep of the restaurant before leaving.

As a mercenary, paying constant attention to one's surroundings was only natural, and Karl was certain that when he left his table to pay at the counter, the pink-and-white-haired woman who had arrived after him was still eating. Yet when he glanced back at the rubberneckers after finishing his conversation with the Arasaka security guard, the woman had already vanished from the shop.

Did this place have a back door? But it didn't seem like she had come up to pay her bill either...

Ditched the bill?

Using the chaos and the rubberneckers to skip out on the bill—truly American... oh, Night City didn't belong to America anymore. Well then, truly Night City.

A seasoned bill-skinner, able to walk away without even sticking around to watch the drama.

Karl vaguely remembered seeing a news story once about a fugitive who couldn't resist his curiosity to watch a commotion, only to be spotted by police surveillance cameras and arrested.

"Beep..."

A message from Blanca popped up in Karl's comms.

Intel incoming?

Thinking Blanca had finally secured the intel on those ACPA pilots entering Night City, Karl expectantly opened the message, only to find that the new missive from Blanca was a brand-new gig.

Issuing a new gig before the previous one was even finished—quite interesting.

Glancing over it roughly, Karl spotted a term in the job description that he had never heard of before.

*Full-borg.*