Although Li Pan knew the Company was bound to take the matter of the Collector seriously—after all, even 01 had spoken personally this time, which meant things were about to get real—he hadn't expected the first batch of cadres to arrive before he even had the chance to complete the trade and secure an escape route by buying a starship.
Yes, the first batch. All the General Managers present at the fourth 0791 Managers' Conference that day were sending people over on assignment. Some were still preparing prosthetics and equipment, but four of them had already purchased local extraterrestrial bodies and linked in directly. They were now waiting at customs quarantine, with the related paperwork already on his desk.
Li Pan glanced at the numbers of the four: 0674007, 0544007, 0213007, 081007…
"…Wait, what the hell? Why are they all 007s? What is this, lucky James Bond missions?"
"Because they're here to compete for the General Manager position," A-Qi explained as she set down his coffee. "Our Company is made up entirely of temps. Everyone is numbered by the order they joined. But since temps transfer, resign, and get rehired so often—and some stay around long enough that the records become a mess—when someone gets hired full-time, they're renumbered according to their role."
Li Pan scanned the personnel roster A-Qi handed over and roughly understood.
In a typical subsidiary, official staff are numbered from 01 to 06, corresponding to the General Manager, four department heads (HR, Tech, Logistics, Operations), and a supervisor stationed at the Callisto base on Jupiter's moon. After that, numbers are assigned according to performance—quality and quantity of missions completed.
The 007 designation usually belonged to the top-ranked cadre, the star performer whose all-around ability and business results outshone the rest.
For reference, 01 Headquarters was an exception, with more departments and two shifts, meaning each manager and minister had deputies. That's why 01044 was already considered a high-ranking cadre.
In short, a 007 meant an elite—talent on par with a manager or minister, capable of standing alone. But since the local Company had no vacancies—the first six slots were already filled—they remained stuck as cadres. They were still just workers: lower salary, weaker authority, less say in HR.
For temps who were content to coast, that was fine. But these full-time elites had been evaluated as "chief performers," which clearly meant they were ambitious, eager to climb higher—get promoted, get rich, marry a rich beauty, and reach the peak of life as a CEO.
So now, with dimension 0791 offering the chance to complete missions and become a General Manager outright—of course they were going to seize it.
"Damn it, they've sent overwork dogs here to grind us into the dirt. Warn everyone to stay sharp!"
These four 007s might already be here, but after the fiasco with 01044 and given the threat of the Collector, they weren't taking any chances. None of them were descending in standard level-4 prosthetics—they had all ordered specialized level-5 combat bodies from the main Company. That meant lengthy approvals with the Security Bureau and extended time in customs quarantine. With bureaucracy moving at its usual pace, at least a week would pass before they landed.
So Li Pan handed all the paperwork, document processing, and customs assistance to A-Qi and Yamazaki Ayato.
Meanwhile, with the Company's recent disruptions, the Night Corporation and Takamagahara had reached a temporary peace. Both conglomerates were busy absorbing the remnants of the Tokugawa and Fabius clans, so there weren't any major moves yet—but there was plenty of personnel shuffling, networking, and business entanglement: managers paying visits, brokers exchanging favors, requests for deals. After all, with so many of the Company's tax-free warehouses, they had to stage a few shipments in and out to keep the tax office satisfied.
Li Pan wanted nothing to do with it. He dumped PR, intel exchanges, and business entanglements onto Shiranui Wuzi and Sealing-Demon Kotaro.
As for Logistics, even less concern—as long as no monsters broke loose, Old Liu Rama and the husky could punch bags in the warehouse all they liked.
For himself, Li Pan took Ashiya Shigui on assignment.
Monster hunts still had to be done—he still owed 0113 two Silver Keys. Who knew when another Company war might flare up? You couldn't feel safe without those in your pocket.
So yes, he needed to bring along Ashiya Shigui, the Company's current powerhouse. Ashiya could handle the monster; Li Pan would just leech off the rewards.
"Shigui, a Collector has escaped from one of the stations. Our task is to investigate recent monster reports and track down the killer of 01044.
But don't worry—I'm experienced. When the monster shows up, you go in first. I'll cover from the sidelines. Relax, if I spot the Collector, I'll warn you to fall back."
"Yes, boss."
Shigui had no objections. At each site, he went in to investigate and exorcise while Li Pan sat in the shuttle, enjoying the AC and providing "support."
This time, the report was a robot murder—discovered while scrolling the Company's video feed. A streamer had been killed live on air by a robot.
…
Well, everyone knew the Ethics Committee came down hardest on AI research. A robot rebellion was basically impossible. So the Company suspected some monster, an Apostle, something like that.
Li Pan doubted it. Even without AI or monsters, plenty of humans had already died at the hands of machines. Could've just been an electrical short.
After all, dimension 0791's Earth might have been scarred by demon incursions, but at its core it was still a world of physics. Real monsters were rare. So far, only Li Pan himself had actually encountered a few. Most other cases were pseudo-science mysteries: why a lamp flickered, why a sealed door opened, why a vase tipped over, why a dog howled at midnight. Problems an electrician could fix.
Even if something supernatural did show up, the local onmyoji were seasoned. The Ashiya clan alone had sealed Ōtengu without breaking a sweat. To them, low-tier grudges, demons, or monsters were easy pickings—sometimes even tamed into shikigami.
And since false alarms didn't pay Silver Keys, it was usually a waste of time.
So Li Pan leaned back, checked around—no weird qi, no ghost babies—and dozed in the air-conditioned shuttle. An hour later, Ashiya returned.
"No monster. Turns out the tenant had hacked his industrial robot as part of a private live-streaming fetish. The bot pounced from behind, went too hard, the rubber sleeve slipped, drill punctured a hemorrhoid, tore tissue, massive hemorrhage…"
"Okay, okay! No need for details. Call the NCPA to collect the corpse. Next case."
Yes, this was their daily grind: dull, menial assignments. A tiny Company, a handful of logistics and business staff. If anyone claimed they were actually members of the Security Committee, capable of wiping out the Night Corporation and Takamagahara at a whim—who would believe it?
Still, these sweeps were necessary. At least they cleared out false leads, so when the 007s landed, they could head straight to the real issues.
So Li Pan and Ashiya rode the shuttle, investigating. Over lunch at a fast-food joint, Li Pan grumbled about the 007s, while Ashiya asked curiously:
"Manager, about the numbers—Kotaro's 034, Rama from Logistics is 03. Does that mean our Company has thirty more staff? Why haven't I seen them?"
"Oh, they're temp Logistics workers managing external warehouses. They clock in at the warehouses, not here."
Li Pan sipped his orange-flavored Cool-Fay and explained:
"We've got forty-two outsourced warehouses. Thirty temps form six engineering teams. Each day one team services a facility, rotates through weekly. Staggered three shifts cover twenty-four hours. If an alarm goes off, they can handle routine issues. If it's a monster vault, they escalate to me or Logistics."
It was just military-style rotations—someone always on duty, everything maintained.
Ashiya nodded, intrigued. "Makes sense. But aren't you worried about insider theft?"
"The rosters and codes are randomized by Eighteen. They rarely enter the warehouses, just check the outer circuits. Better than leaving one guy to watch a site forever."
Li Pan wasn't worried. Everyone had a price, betrayal couldn't be eliminated. But Pastor had recruited family men. The Company's credit rating with TheM made it easy for them to get low-interest loans.
Eight-hour shifts, simple maintenance, sixteen hours left free—better than most bottom-rung workers in Night City.
Of course, management styles differed. Once a 007 replaced him, maybe they'd treat temps as disposable tools. Who knew if they'd even keep their jobs?
Ashiya's point was fair though—Night City's security had visibly worsened.
Even during lunch, two armed robberies broke out on the same street. Ashiya blasted the first crew away with spells. The second crew ran into the NCPA, exchanged hundreds of rounds with zero casualties, then bolted, leaving the NCPA to arrest a few homeless men for show.
The afternoon's work was just as absurd. No monsters, nearly had his wallet stolen. And some underage-looking punks tried stealing a hovercar—only to trigger its plasma cannon system, which woke Li Pan from his nap. He dragged the brats and tossed them into dumpsters.
Tokugawa and Fabius weren't the only corpses attracting vultures—even the wreckage of the East Castle Society and Shura-kai drew swarms of scavengers.
With Night City's bosses shattered, huge swaths of turf lay unclaimed. Clubs and streets no longer had anyone collecting protection fees. Dozens of petty gangs sprouted like weeds. The Company at least maintained some veneer of civility with corporate wars, mergers, hostile takeovers. Gangs just slashed throats and lit fires.
The scramble for scraps was a new Warring States era.
"Shouldn't we back one faction? Wouldn't it make our jobs easier?" Ashiya asked earnestly, glancing at his slashed trousers.
Li Pan snorted. "Useless. Throw a dog a bone, it'll remember you forever. But cockroaches can't be tamed. They only want to survive. …Drop me at Sakura Park in the Old Capital District. You can file today's report."
"Yes, take care."
Strangely, Akiyama Masako wasn't answering her comms. Li Pan's messages about the trade went unanswered. He had no choice but to check the Akiyama Dojo in person.
But the sign was gone—confiscated for debt, seized by the bank.
Li Pan was stunned, then called Principal Kōga.
Kōga: "Not tonight, I'm training in the mountains. Try Wuzi."
Li Pan: "…I'm not trying to hook up, I'm looking for Akiyama Ayako…"
Kōga: "What! Ayako's still a student!"
Li Pan: "No, I meant her mother—"
Kōga: "What?! You want the mother too? Into threesomes, are you?"
Li Pan exploded: "Bullshit! Don't slander me! When did I ever—okay, maybe last time was my idea, but this time's different! This is business!"
Kōga finally relented and sent an address:
"The Akiyama family's bankrupt. Ayako dropped out, they couldn't pay debts, prosthetic services shut down. I can't track them. This is her last registered address, used for loan bills. Try your luck."
North Industrial Zone? Once, Masako demanded ten million—Li Pan thought she was just greedy. Turns out their household was truly desperate. The dojo gone, now forced from central Old Capital into the cheapest, most dangerous district.
Li Pan was surprised, but if he wanted to reach Amakusa Shirō, he needed Masako. So he took the subway.
The Industrial Zone was former Whirlpool Gang turf—no NCPA presence, merc squads raiding at will. Even gangs avoided it. Stray pedestrians risked losing eyes and kidneys.
Li Pan knew his suit would draw trouble. He changed into mercenary gear back at the factory. Orange wasn't around—probably driving freight—so he took the armored Imperial 620 and headed for the address.
The so-called "apartment" was a decrepit motel—three floors around a central lot. First floor: laundry, diner, barber, massage parlor. Second and third: gutted motel rooms turned into one-bed, one-bath rentals.
Li Pan parked, planted a ring of electromagnetic mines around his car, then entered.
The Akiyama address was 209. He knocked—no answer. Mailbox stuffed with bills. Maybe it was fake.
As he debated between kicking down the door or calling Eighteen to hack it, noise erupted downstairs.
Fearing the Whirlpool Gang messing with his car, he rushed to the balcony—only to see punks circling a short-haired girl in a sailor uniform, clutching her schoolbag.
Oh. Akiyama Ayako.
The same girl who had once tried to assassinate him—nearly severing his head.
…Wait, weren't Goldshine Academy uniforms supposed to be sailor miniskirts?
Before he could speak, a blond punk reached for her skirt.
Ayako caught his wrist, pulled a kitchen knife from her bag, and chopped his hand clean off.
"AAAHHH!"
Li Pan: "…"
Even with her prosthetics shut down, that reflex, that blade work, that glare—unmistakably an Akiyama killer.
The thugs froze. Really? All that for a grope?
But Ayako wasn't done. After the hand came the throat—one slash severed his artery, blood spraying everywhere.
Only then did the punks scream in terror.
Too late. Legs trembling, they couldn't flee before Ayako carved through them—throats, guts, skulls—killing three on the spot. The rest fled, pissing themselves.
Ayako stood laughing in the blood, wiped her knife on her skirt, tucked it back into her bag, and walked upstairs.
Like a psychopath.
Li Pan leaned against 209's doorframe, gun ready.
Ayako ignored him, scanned her fingerprint, and entered.
One glance inside told Li Pan everything: chaos. Bills scattered, sheets and chairs hacked to shreds, knife marks slashed across the walls.
As she stepped in, he asked:
"Hey. Where's your mother?"
"…Dead."
Ayako answered coldly, and shut the door.
.
.
.
⚠️ 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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