Chapter 23: Fork in the Road

A dreamless night.

Vera woke from deep sleep and instinctively glanced at the nightstand.

On it lay a crumpled A4 sheet of plain white paper.

“Making the virtual real? No, that’s not right.”

“Creating something from nothing? Doesn’t sound right either.”

“Moving through time and space… whew… it really is like a dream.”

She picked up the paper, feeling its distinct, solid texture.

The exhaustion of last night faded like morning mist, washed away by a night of peaceful sleep, leaving only freshness and tranquility. Whether seconds or hours had passed, though her body showed no visible change, Vera had never felt this refreshed or clear-headed before.

Pop pop—

She stretched lazily, almost hearing the faint clicks of her titanium-reinforced skeleton and muscles extending, filling her with lightness and comfort.

Using the dust-free, gold-plated cabinet’s sliding door as a mirror, she met the gaze of those bright indigo eyes in her reflection.

Full of energy.

Nothing like the image of an overworked corpo running on endless overtime and burning herself out.

Sitting up on the bed, Vera crumpled the paper into a ball. Recalling last night’s events, she couldn’t help but look thoughtful. Her lips moved slightly.

“Looks like I won’t be shaking off the label of ‘wild genius in biotechnology’ anytime soon.”

Sorting through the chaotic thoughts flooding her mind, Vera lowered her eyes to her raised hand.

Flawless skin, slender fingers—under the warm light, her arm looked paler than before.

Not the ghastly pallor of a corpse, but a healthy, rosy white.

Her body had clearly undergone heavy cybernetic modification. Even with top-grade gear and excellent upkeep, close inspection should have revealed faint traces of enhancement—the subtle indentations left by implants, impossible to erase completely.

But now it was as if her body’s quality was so exceptional that the cybernetics performed at 200% efficiency, seamlessly integrated, as if they were natural.

Just as all implants emphasized compatibility, modern devices had to match each user’s body and nervous system. Depending on tolerance, performance varied.

Forced compatibility and overloading often led to cyberpsychosis—an all-too-common fate in the age of augmentation.

Vera’s current state, by analogy, was like a universal adapter. Her implants not only functioned at full capacity but seemed to exceed their design limits, perfectly compatible and balanced.

Turns out she had been too cautious, too worried about her own skin.

The thought made her smile oddly.

Grabbing that sheet had left her exhausted, sure—but none of the expected symptoms appeared. No splitting headache, no bleeding from the orifices.

All her preparation for that deep, soul-draining “absorption” had been for nothing.

Was that really it?

Maybe the paper had simply been too light. A standard A4—21×29.7 cm—barely weighed 4.3659 grams.

If she tried pulling a BOW Tyrant [bio-organic weapon] from over there, she’d probably end up in the ER.

Probably.

Vera chuckled inwardly.

“After using it up and sleeping it off, I actually recovered faster…” Her mind felt sharper, smoother.

The act of commanding her “alternate self” to take something from her hand felt oddly similar to regulated blood donation.

Moderate consumption could stimulate marrow production, promote metabolism, strengthen the immune system—or so the books and official sources claimed. All in moderation, of course.

By imperfect analogy, Vera’s soul source—her mana bar, so to speak—had always stayed full since her mind stabilized in this life. She had never drawn from it before. Now, with active use combined with natural recovery, it felt fuller than ever.

“Well, caution and all-in both have their pros and cons. Can’t have it all, right?”

No need to dwell.

The T-virus extraction project should move up the schedule.

Collecting herself, Vera headed to the washroom, stripping off the clothes she’d worn all night. She didn’t regret her caution—life only came once.

Just as she was removing her underwear to bathe before work— ring ring—

Her private message folder lit up. Without even checking the sender, she answered.

—Application Response—

From: Arasaka Tokyo Global Headquarters

To: Vera Adelaide Russell [Night City]

[Your scholarship and Tokyo University Law Department Arasaka internal admission recommendation slot application has been approved]

Read.

“Well, isn’t this perfect timing? Double happiness.”

Closing the folder, Vera lay back in the tub, turned on the shower, and opened the bathroom’s one-way observation window. Her eyes caught Night City’s rising sun, and her lips curved into a faint, expectant smile.

---

Civic Center, Arasaka Academy.

The 2074 academic year was drawing to a close, and every corner of the academy buzzed with a peculiar atmosphere.

Disparity.

At the gates, students in Arasaka’s red-and-black uniforms clustered in groups or walked alone. Some chatted about holiday plans and future prospects, while others wore faces full of worry, as if hope itself had abandoned them.

The entrance ceremony had been over half a year ago. Whatever enthusiasm the executives’ “chicken soup speeches” had stirred had long since evaporated.

Now, day after day, as they shuttled between school and city, students couldn’t help but feel the weight of reality: the corporate tower looming overhead, the academy’s manicured green spaces so unlike the rest of Night City, and their distance from all of it.

The gap between ideals and reality.

No money, slipping grades, oppressive atmosphere, bullying—the dropout and suicide rates at Arasaka Academy had never been low.

Tap tap—

David Martinez jogged quickly into the academy, heading straight for his classroom.

“Hey, did you hear? Allen from General Class 3 jumped off a building.”

“Oh, he should’ve done it ages ago. No money, just a bookworm, acting all high and mighty, thinking he could make it into management school—maybe in his next life! Haha…”

The cruel laughter of corporate brats grated on David’s ears. He grimaced.

He didn’t like his classmates.

The fire from the start of the year had been snuffed out by this toxic environment.

Even that dreamlike pale-gold memory was fading from his mind. He knew very well he and that so-called “senior” came from different worlds entirely.

“Sigh.” With a heavy breath, David stepped into his classroom.

At once, sycophantic voices piped up:

“Wow, Katsuo, thanks to you, today’s the practical activity with the Security Department! My dad said it’s a rare chance—the mobile unit’s coming, or maybe even security and protection?”

“Yeah, I heard you’ve already been selected internally by the Security Department. Some higher-up really has their eye on you?”

The same two lackeys again—one tall, one short, one fat, one thin. One round like a ball, the other ugly as a thug. They buzzed endlessly around the mushroom-haired kid whose father was a mid-level Arasaka employee.

Even though Tanaka Katsuo clearly didn’t want to deal with them.

Corporate dogs’ children really were shameless—always eager to press their warm faces against a cold backside.

David sneered inwardly.

Because of his grades, he’d been placed in General Class 1. Before advancing to specialized tracks in second year, this class had the highest number of corporate offspring.

Katsuo ignored his followers and slumped into his ergonomic recliner—an advanced seat with brain-computer interfaces and teaching hookups.

The bell rang.

On the podium, a teaching AI appeared—blue data lines forming the face of a bald woman.

“Good morning, students.”

Her gaze swept the room.

“Perfect attendance. Very good.”

“Before the year-end exams, today is the practical activity you’ve all been anticipating. This year, Night City’s Arasaka Security Department will be collaborating with the academy. In half an hour, operatives will arrive to select several top-performing students for the experience.”

“Please approach this with your fullest enthusiasm and most serious attitude.”

Security Department?

David, who had been listless, suddenly widened his eyes.

That person is from the Security Department… right?!