After getting what he needed, Arthur left the Ritz Bar in a great mood.
He found another poor guy from Sixth Street, politely borrowed another car, and happily drove off toward home.
On the way, Arthur chatted a bit with Regina and quickly got the property rights transferred over—the free gift from his poor fellow patient.
Let me, Arthur, bear the heavy crime of being sucked dry by Night City's bureaucrats!
He felt like such a saint.
Even though they had only known each other for a few hours, he was willing to inherit the guy's real estate, debts, and problems.
If this wasn't reincarnated Buddha behavior, he didn't know what was.
Soon, Arthur rolled into Santo Domingo, parked under the towering megabuilding, hopped into the elevator, and headed upstairs.
Today's haul wasn't bad at all:
More than 6,800 eddies in cash (from selling off some of the patient's "piglet" BDs),
One free real estate plot (okay, fine, it's in Taipingzhou—but still),
A promising new production base for suppressor chips,
And a side business starting to grow from selling edited cyberpsycho BDs.
All in all? A textbook cyberpunk success story.
Sure, if worst came to worst, he could always squat in Taipingzhou, sell suppressor chips to the Voodoo Boys, and call it a day.
In a world where everyone had a touch of cyberpsychosis, his product was basically medicine.
He even mused about the BD footage he left for Judy.
Maybe the "smooth and satisfying urination" Mewtwo clip would sell big?
Night City had so many people struggling with side effects from low-end implants—
Selling the dream of a flawless, satisfying piss might be the most brilliant business idea he ever had.
Arthur grinned at the thought as he swung open the door to his apartment.
Warm yellow lights glowed inside.
Not lively, no—
but bright, cozy, like a beacon just for him.
In a city of millions, this tiny light waited for him.
Arthur's whole body relaxed, as if he'd downed a bucket of ice water in the burning summer heat.
David was squatting by the wall, scribbling homework furiously.
Even though he was smart, schoolwork in 2077 was hellish, and they couldn't afford expensive neural learning gear.
So it was the old-fashioned way: hand cramps and mental exhaustion.
Some things never changed, no matter the century.
Meanwhile, Gloria sat quietly by the window, lost in her own thoughts.
Arthur nodded in satisfaction, then suddenly remembered something—
He hadn't signed in yet.
He silently muttered in his mind:
"System daddy, I wanna sign in!"
[Ding~ Congratulations, sign-in successful! You've gained Advanced Mechanical Engineering Knowledge!]
The next moment, Arthur felt an explosion inside his brain.
Gun manufacturing, gun modifications, engineering upgrades, electrical systems, even prosthetic maintenance...
All of it crammed into his skull like overstuffed luggage.
Arthur groaned and rubbed his aching forehead.
He muttered bitterly in his mind:
"Tongzi! Can't you insert knowledge a little more gently? You shove it in so hard it's like you're drilling a damn highway through my brain!"
The system: "…"
No response.
Arthur pouted.
No soul, no personality—
not even as fun to talk to as Delamain, the AI taxi.
Even a rustbucket taxi could banter. This system was practically a retarded toaster.
Shrugging, Arthur stopped paying attention to it.
He turned his gaze back to the room and suddenly bellowed:
"KIDS, I'M BACK!!!"
His roar shook the walls.
Gloria snapped out of her daze and smiled faintly.
She got up, walked over, and began helping Arthur peel off his windbreaker.
Arthur's hands, of course, immediately got busy—
sliding onto her waist, brushing along her back.
Gloria's cheeks flushed, and she swatted at him fiercely.
But not too fiercely.
Arthur grinned, taking a step closer—
only to be stopped by a warning whisper in his ear:
"David's still here!"
Arthur froze, hands in mid-air, face turning black like burnt toast.
He turned around—
sure enough, David was staring at them, blinking innocently.
Puberty.
The brat was naturally curious.
"Hey, Dad, what are you doing?"
David's voice was hesitant, but—
thinking about the past few head smacks he'd taken, he wisely called Arthur "Dad" without resistance.
Arthur glared at him.
"What are you looking at, kid?
This isn't anything you need to know about yet!"
Although Arthur was tempted to yell:
"I'm trying to fk your mother!"**
he restrained himself, opting for the high road.
Sighing dramatically, Arthur plopped down beside David and glanced at his homework.
Then, making sure Gloria wasn't looking, Arthur fished a small box from his pocket and shoved it into David's hands.
"I never gave you a proper birthday present," Arthur said with a wink.
"Here—take it. But keep it hidden from your mother, got it?"
David clutched the box excitedly, sneaking glances at Gloria like a guilty puppy.
He opened the box carefully.
Inside was a memory shard—
but the label wasn't from the big green Beta Corporation he was used to.
Instead, it had a strange, ghost-like logo—
the exclusive mark of the Ritz Bar's Mewtwo Editors.
Wait… wait wait wait...
David's eyes widened.
He looked up at Arthur with an expression full of horror and gratitude and confusion all mixed together.
You gave me this directly?
Fatherly love???
Or fatherly betrayal???
Arthur raised an eyebrow at David's expression and—BAM—smacked him on the head.
"What are you thinking, brat?!
I'm not giving you something good for nothing!"
David rubbed his head, confused.
Arthur leaned in and whispered darkly:
"This isn't some fun party Mewtwo, kid.
This is a personal experience archive—
recorded by a very special uncle."
He tapped the box meaningfully.
"A lesson for you.
Especially for when you get dumb ideas like thinking you're invincible after puberty kicks in."
David gulped.
He didn't dare open it now.
He could tell—
whatever was in that shard, it wasn't gonna be 'fun'.
Arthur grinned smugly.
That's right, kid.
Welcome to adulthood.
Night City style.