A small team of edge-runners stood silently on the roadside, watching what could only be described as a grand theatrical production.
In a way, this really did feel like a play.
A downtrodden boy and his eunuch-like "attendant" wandered the streets, poor and mistreated, digging through dumpsters just to survive—only to be bullied by lowlife thugs. But at the dramatic climax, a stunning twist: the boy's identity changed. He turned out to be the long-lost heir of some royal bloodline!
And so the thugs' luck ran out. The boy ascended to the place that was rightfully his. A cause for celebration, truly.
Bullshit. What the hell is there to celebrate?!
None of this felt remotely cyberpunk.
The burly man at the front snapped out of it first, slapping the techie with the weird cyberarms across the back of the head.
"Pilar, you're the one who said we had to rush over to save someone, right?!" The team leader, Maine, pointed furiously at the alley. "This is what you meant?!"
He seriously began to wonder if their tech specialist—Pilar—had spent so much time in Lizzie's Bar that he'd started hallucinating.
Save who, exactly?
Those gangsters, squatting and shaking in fear?
The petite, twin-tailed girl beside them stifled a laugh, but finally couldn't hold it in and burst out, pointing at the man named Lola and teasing, "That's what you get for spending all your time screwing around at Lizzie's, dumbass!"
Nearby, the middle-aged man with a cowboy mustache—Falco—sighed and came to his teammate's defense. "Maine, you can't blame him. Even I didn't see this coming."
Maine glanced at their most reliable driver. "Falco, didn't you call earlier saying you were surrounded by some gangers? What the hell happened? Did they piss off someone they shouldn't have, or break some kind of law?"
He distinctly remembered Falco calling earlier, saying he and someone else had been cornered by a small gang and needed help.
Then, halfway there, Falco called again to say they'd been saved—by two strangers.
Maine normally didn't give a damn about strangers. But if those two people saved his crew, and the gang was bold enough to mess with his team? Then hell yeah—they were gonna teach them a lesson. And if they could help those two strangers out in the process, so be it.
But what they saw when they arrived was… far beyond expectations.
Even Maine had to admit: sometimes life veered wildly off-script.
"That kid... I think I know who he is." The hacker, Sasha, finally spoke. Her cyber-eyes zoomed in for a better view down the alley.
"You know him?" Maine looked over, confused.
Sasha nodded and explained how she'd made a deal with Lin Mo that afternoon—and mentioned he was apparently connected to Wakako.
"So he's a wealthy fixer-type, huh..." Maine muttered, deep in thought.
...
The dark alley was now bathed in light once more.
Lin Mo stepped out calmly, brushing dust from his clothes as he walked.
Behind him followed Kitagawa Hiro, still wearing a face of absolute shock.
One look at Kitagawa's expression was enough to guess the storm raging inside him.
No one would've expected the tides to turn so swiftly.
The boy had played it like a master tactician—timing everything perfectly. Just when the thugs thought they'd won, reinforcements dropped from the heavens and crushed their hopes in an instant.
The once-arrogant gangsters were now crouched on the ground, hands on their heads, terrified to move. One wrong look from the boy, and they'd be executed on the spot.
Outside the alley, the floodlights mounted atop armored vehicles shifted slightly as Lin Mo emerged—the beam of light following at his feet, carefully kept from blinding his eyes.
He walked from shadow into light, his gaze sharp as a blade, eyes radiant as the sea. Everywhere he passed, the strong bowed low.
A security agent nearby scanned him with his cyber-eye and quickly recognized him as their protected client.
He rushed over, saluted, and asked respectfully, "Mr. Lin Mo, have you been harmed in any way?"
Lin Mo shook his head with mild regret, brushing dust from his sleeves and checking himself for injuries. Not even a scratch.
That Wolf School bulletproof jacket had once again proven its worth.
"I'm fine. They didn't get the chance to lay a finger on me," Lin Mo replied evenly.
"Excellent." The security officer let out a sigh of relief.
Per the security contract, the best-case scenario was exactly this—no harm done to the client. That way, their department wouldn't catch heat from above.
Sure, they looked fierce on the streets and could strike fear into any gang...
But inside the company? One complaint from a client and they were toast.
Now, seeing that Lin Mo wasn't holding a grudge, the security captain smiled even more warmly and asked:
"So then, Mr. Lin Mo—how would you like us to handle these people?"
Aside from protection, security firms could act as private military contractors. The client held full authority over what happened next.
Lin Mo turned to the trembling gang members. Their leader forced a pathetic smile, though his eyes burned with hate.
"Wait here for a moment," Lin Mo ordered.
"Yes, sir."
He stepped forward and looked the leader in the eye.
"Talk. Why were you after those two? Who hired you? Who supplied your gear?"
The man was silent for a while, weighing his options. Finally, he asked:
"If I tell you… will you let us go?"
"I'll be honest—you don't really have a choice," Lin Mo replied coldly. "Even if you stay silent, I can pull your neural chip and trace the comms. And those two who got away—they probably know who you were working for too."
The man sighed heavily, defeat written all over his face.
They were the hunters. They had cornered the lions and were about to strike—only to discover that those lions were pandas, national treasures.
And then… a military-grade army showed up to punish the hunters for daring to touch a sacred beast.
"It was MooreTech," the man finally confessed.
"Care to explain the full story?" Lin Mo asked calmly.
"Moore funded us. Provided gear. Hired us to kidnap some merc squad members. They're supposed to be newcomers to Afterlife. Decent strength, but not top tier. The company told us to take them alive, if possible."
"They say why?"
"No. Big corps never tell us shit. We don't even know who their contact is. All comms are encrypted."
The man gave it all up.
Lin Mo nodded, piecing the situation together.
But what must be done—must be done.
"Thanks for your honesty," he said with a faint smile. "It's been a lovely chat. In another life, maybe we could've been friends."
Then he raised the Black Unicorn blade. His eyes were cold.
"In this life… there are no maybes."
The katana flashed like a crescent moon.
Blood sprayed like rain, glowing blue under the neon haze.
Even while crouched in the alley, Lin Mo had prepared for this moment. He wasn't polishing his blade for combat.
He was getting it ready for an execution.
And now, having claimed his throne in this den of wolves, he had to act the part—ruthless and absolute, giving this enemy the farewell he deserved.
.
.
.
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