Li Pan admitted he'd been careless. He hadn't dodged—his attention had been too fixated on the "tofu bun" in his hands, wondering if it was medical silicone, when he got caught.
At this point, most of his body was covered by ceramic ballistic plates molded to his muscle curves. Beneath them lay anti-infection synthetic dermal layers, then muscle and blood vessels. After so many days, his own skin was nearly grown back. Not easy to pierce.
But he hadn't expected the Knight Commander's combat prosthetics—soft and massive though they looked—to belong to a centuries-old vampire. Her bite was vicious. She sank her teeth into his neck plating, punching two holes straight through his Level-5 armor. Had she used her fangs properly, it might've been catastrophic.
Feeling the suction like a pump at his neck, Li Pan immediately summoned qi to shield himself and shoved her away. Covering his throat, he leapt back.
"Holy shit, you crazy woman! Biting without warning? Aren't you afraid K will flatten you!?"
Emilia didn't respond.
"…Hey? Hey! What's wrong with you?"
Her eyes rolled white, eyelids fluttering as if in seizure, tongue lapping at the mouthful of blood, red drops trickling down her lips and chin.
What the hell? Blackout? …Wait—was she losing control?
Li Pan was baffled. Getting bitten wasn't a big deal, though K had warned him not to let too many vampires taste his blood—lest they process him dry in some juicer. He hadn't taken it seriously.
But Emilia's reaction was extreme—completely short-circuited. Yet to him, it just smelled like ordinary blood.
Unable to figure it out, he took the chance to pull his pants back up and bolt. Forget the opera house wolves for now.
Dawn was breaking. He'd gathered plenty of intel tonight—two more monsters to boot. No need to force a full sweep. Better to prepare and wipe out the wolf pack in one stroke, rather than alert them.
He headed straight to the office. In the business department, he dug through stacks of paper files. Looking for records of the Regalia of Helios or the Holy Grail.
Monster Corp did have handover procedures, but as Deskphone always nagged, the previous staff's catastrophic failures had left things messy. Many files were shredded for confidentiality, leaving fragments incomprehensible.
Still, with cross-referencing, Li Pan found the Regalia's record. Just as Emilia had said: each year two mistresses were burned in the "Medea's Revenge" ritual to appease the Sun God's fury.
Some scoffed: what did mistresses have to do with the Sun God? Why would he care?
But in myth, Medea was Helios' granddaughter, a divine scion with immense power and treasures. The Sun God doted on her. If such a beloved granddaughter was humiliated, naturally his wrath was terrifying.
Whether or not the myth was literally true, the ritual worked. That was enough.
But it wasn't as simple as tossing random people on stage. The sacrifices had to be authentic. The princess and king roles must be real adulterers. Medea's role ideally had betrayal trauma—and could sing well enough to summon "the god." The boys could be clones; their purpose was simply to be witnesses.
A cumbersome containment measure indeed…
He also found records on the Holy Grail. Emilia hadn't lied—Monster Corp had been coveting it for ages.
Photos, dossiers, procurement cases. Even Deskphone knew all about it, rattling on endlessly.
The Grail wasn't just a vampire relic—it had been fought over repeatedly, by Monster Corp, Ye Corp, Takamagahara, Dawn, Chaos, and countless obscure associations.
The struggle had its own term: Holy Grail Bidding War. Because its value was so immense, winners still had to pay compensation to avoid all-out vendettas.
Headquarters demanded it. Securing the Grail was considered a benchmark of a General Manager's competence.
Of the thirteen previous managers of District 0791, all had entered at least one bidding war. Only two had succeeded. Three were destroyed outright—New Tokyo obliterated along with them. Proof of the Grail's lethality.
Twenty years ago, Takamagahara surrendered, handing the Grail to Ye Corp as part of their terms.
Now Takamagahara lay shattered. Ye's ruling council was about to change. Duchess Camilla of House Aemilius was entering slumber. The Fabius prince had not yet awoken. The clan was in turmoil. Red Tengu, ninjas, werewolves—factions stirring. Another Grail War seemed likely.
Monster Corp would have to join. If they couldn't secure the famed Grail, what kind of monopoly were they? Winning it would tick off several "small goals" at once.
But Li Pan knew his limits. One man against the multiversal giants? His team was a bunch of useless drunks.
Strangely enough, today the useless drunks actually showed up to work.
Aqi, Rama, Spider-Type Eighteen, Fuma Kotaro, Shiranui Kiriko, and Yamazaki Ayato—all present.
"Alright. Let's start today's morning meeting. Yamazaki, you first."
"Yes. The 'Fountain of Youth' project—my report on the Hakone ruins."
Ayato launched into his presentation, Eighteen casting the slides.
Credit where due—the elite grad student had skills. His PPT was polished, with full holo-modeling of Mount Hakone's geology.
Guiding them like a tour, Ayato displayed ruins and artifact fragments, theorizing they were elven civilization remains. He modeled seismic activity, volcanoes, and human modification, predicting the Fountain's approximate location.
He didn't realize the Fountain was actually a "jar," already extracted by the Onmyoji for Saito-ya. He thought Corp wanted buried elf relics.
He even proposed three excavation sites with detailed plans, budgets, equipment lists, and timelines. Either genuine civil engineering chops—or borrowed from experts overnight.
Shiranui Kiriko, who had started the mess, sat silently. Somehow, Koga's headmaster had revived her, though she still looked drained. At least she came to work.
Li Pan applauded. "Good job, Yamazaki. Everyone, learn from him. I'll review the proposal. Next."
Kiriko rose and handed Eighteen a chip. "Goldshine Academy investigation report."
Another case briefing: student, teacher, staff dossiers, autopsy reports, witness testimonies, motive analyses.
Ayato scribbled furiously. Kotaro, another instigator, stayed silent.
Kiriko coolly explained the elite student club Greenfield Society's brutal initiation rites. Noble heiresses from Takamagahara got waved in. Mid-tier bureaucrat daughters needed perfume codes. But parvenus and common-born? Lowest caste—equal to maids. For them, entry meant abject humiliation.
Their initiation, the "Rebirth Ritual," involved stripping, sealing in jars, and burying them under cherry trees overnight. Survivors gained entry. Failures suffocated or cracked. Sometimes it was outright homicide.
Recently, suicides among members pointed back to these rites. In the last ritual, disputes had escalated to violence. One candidate died. Witnesses named internal Greenfield conflict.
So Kiriko and Agent Y had infiltrated the estate. They'd been intercepted by Iga ninjas, seals fully broken. Kiriko fought a rear guard, was captured, and only later rescued.
"Not bad," Li Pan nodded. "Kotaro, any additions?"
"Yes, Manager."
Kotaro produced a chip.
He named the culprit outright: Princess Senhime, Student Council President, daughter of House Tokugawa, betrothed to the Hashiba heir.
She wielded a cursed demon-blade once used in a Tokugawa seppuku. Passed down generations, cursed by Oda onmyoji, buried under the cherry forest. A blade steeped in resentment.
Kotaro revealed the weapon itself—the very wakizashi Li Pan had seen in dreams.
"When Oda fell, the princess of Greenfield seized the blade. Senhime used its power, cloaked in club disputes, to kill. I infiltrated to reclaim it, but was wounded by her ninja and nearly consumed by the curse. I now return it intact."
Li Pan eyed Kiriko, then Kotaro. "The Iga ninja was that strong? You both lost?"
Kotaro chuckled. "Not so strong. I faltered under the blade's curse, lacking a combat body. I lost—ashamed."
Kiriko was cold. "The Iga demons unsealed a god's curse. They walk the evil path. Retribution awaits."
Ayato furiously scribbled notes, snapping photos. Li Pan shrugged. If they wanted to spin tales, fine.
"So the matter's resolved? Good. I'll report it to Third Division. Though a Tokugawa princess… hard to touch. Rama, your turn. PPT ready?"
Rama sweated bullets. "Uh, no… I just submitted the form. The sample was signed off…"
At least someone did their actual job.
Li Pan smiled. "How's space? Fun?"
Rama shuddered. "Pitch black. Terrifying. The space elevator nearly killed me. Boss, please don't send me up again."
Li Pan snorted. "Dream on. We've assets in orbit. Open your eyes. Night City's just a dung heap swarmed by flies. Nothing worth fighting over. Aqi—anything besides coffee?"
Aqi actually did.
"Boss, I saw the Collector's ship."
"The Collector?"
"ACA—Antique Collection Association. A rising rival. Open to anyone—corporates, mercs, freelancers. They gather relics, auction them on interdimensional markets.
We don't know their backers. Could be Security Council members—or even our own clients, tired of overpaying. They're building a rival platform.
Already, subsidiaries report talent poached by ACA. With a new platform, sellers prefer open auction over our procurement monopoly. Likely why hiring's been so hard lately."
She handed him a "Top Secret" file.
Li Pan skimmed. "Holy shit—ten grand a month salary!? Got contacts? I wanna jump ship."
Aqi pointed: "Must complete three tasks and be an elite grad."
Tch. Discrimination everywhere. Even job-hopping was exhausting.
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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