Chapter 12

Christmas Eve was a white Christmas as forecasted by the weather agency.

So white that the roads were blocked.

“This isn’t a white Christmas, it’s a white disaster.”

Sonia, who overheard Amon’s muttering, nodded in agreement beside him.

The snow that had started falling a week ago continued until Christmas Eve.

Thanks to that, the younger siblings at the orphanage were in a festive mood.

For children, snow is always a heavenly gift they can’t get enough of.

But for those who had to shovel it, snow was a curse and trash in its very existence.

Most people realize this when they return from the military or get a part-time job.

However, Amon, Sonia, and the older siblings at the orphanage realized this truth relatively early.

Because they had to shovel snow with shovels and brooms.

Even Sonia, who had been excited about this year’s white Christmas, cursed the falling trash from the sky after about two hours of shoveling.

When a snowplow truck, comparable to a tank, passed by and cleared the snow once, the kids quickly pushed the snow from inside the orphanage to the public road in front.

In Colorado, where snow falls at insane levels, this was the most efficient snow removal method.

Clear it to the side of the road?

Who knows how long and how much snow will keep falling?

Especially since the climate is already wrecked by environmental destruction, leaving the snow for later was never an option.

That’s why, when citizens threw snow onto the roads, snowplow trucks connected to hyperspace swept it away—this was the city’s snow removal method.

In the process, many accidents occurred when people failed to avoid the approaching snowplows, but in a world where thousands die from gunshots every day, no one cared.

Fortunately, this tragedy didn’t visit the orphanage.

Thanks to Amon and Sonia’s thorough safety control and the cooperation of the kids, they continued snow removal without accidents.

However, not *all* the kids were cooperative.

Some, like Jimmy and his followers, didn’t like Amon’s instructions and did as they pleased.

The reason no accidents happened to them was that they not only ignored Amon’s safety instructions but also didn’t participate in the snow removal itself.

They only came out with shovels and brooms because they were interested in the special snacks that came after the work, but they didn’t shovel any snow.

They just huddled in a corner, chatting among themselves.

Amon left them be, resigning himself to it.

“Fine. As long as they’re not getting in the way.”

After all, Jimmy and his gang were soon to graduate from the orphanage.

Even in the military, senior privates aren’t made to work, so there was no need to force them to work.

It just meant Amon had to work a bit more.

“Even if the world changes, military seniority doesn’t go anywhere.”

Amon consoled himself with that thought and continued working.

Of course, he was angry and, in his heart, wanted to flatten their heads with a shovel.

Amon wasn’t a saint.

But still.

He forgave them.

Remembering the goddess who loved him and constantly reminding himself of how blessed he was, he forgave them.

“Bastards. When we get back, I won’t put syrup in your hot chocolate.”

There was a bit of petty revenge mixed in, but Amon forgave them nonetheless.

After a morning of snow removal, the kids returned to the orphanage.

Since the snowplows only came to the orphanage’s street in the morning, clearing snow in the afternoon was pointless.

They went back inside, warmed themselves by the fireplace, and chatted with their siblings.

“Brother! I want to shovel snow like you!”

Amon could only smile bitterly at the child’s words.

It was the kind of thing an 8-year-old would say.

At that age, snow removal probably looked easy.

But they didn’t know that even an hour of shoveling would leave you mentally drained.

At 8, snow probably looked more like a toy than trash.

Amon couldn’t bring himself to lend the kid his shovel, so he just brushed it off, saying they’d get to do it when they grew up.

As they sat surrounded by their siblings, melting their minds with sweet hot chocolate, someone arrived at the orphanage.

“Who could it be? Who would brave this blizzard to come here?”

Amon couldn’t think of anyone.

It couldn’t be a civil servant checking on the kids’ safety.

If civil servants were that diligent, the city wouldn’t be in such a state.

A robber?

No way.

Robbery is something you do to survive, and on a day like this, you’d likely end up stranded.

Besides, what would a robber even want from an orphanage?

Other possibilities like a documentary crew or a cult recruitment team crossed his mind, but he dismissed them too.

Anyone who braved this blizzard must have had a desperate purpose or a reason to come only when it snowed.

The most likely candidate was a police officer coming to fine them for not clearing the snow properly.

In fact, two years ago, a police officer had come to fine them for not clearing the snow.

Normally, it wasn’t illegal to leave the snow uncleared for 24 hours after the snowplow passed.

You can’t expect people to shovel snow endlessly.

But that officer fined them anyway.

He was desperate for results and thought the orphanage director wouldn’t know the law.

With a veiled suggestion that a bribe could make the fine go away, he harassed the director.

Unfortunately for him, the director’s sharp legal knowledge sent him packing.

By the way, that officer was found dead the next day in another house’s front yard after trying the same trick on multiple places.

Turns out, one of his targets was a gang executive.

Anyway, back to the story.

Given the precedent, it was highly likely—no, certain—that something similar was happening now.

At the very least, the person who braved this snowstorm to come to the orphanage didn’t seem like a good person.

With that expectation, Amon focused on the entrance.

Who would come through that door?

As he waited by the fireplace, which had a view of the entrance, the nun opened the door.

What appeared was a man in a suit, unmistakably a salesman.

Though a bit far to see clearly, he had a company badge on his chest.

“Which company?”

Amon didn’t recognize it.

He usually knew most major companies by their colors or silhouettes, but this badge was unfamiliar.

“Well, even mountains change over 50 years. It’s only natural.”

In this world, seeing a company he didn’t recognize wasn’t unusual, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Amon focused on the salesman talking to the nun at the entrance.

Though he couldn’t hear the conversation, the salesman kept bowing to the nun, giving the impression he wasn’t a bad person.

“No, snap out of it, Amon. This is Cyberpunk.”

Cyberpunk Rule #2:

There are no good corporations.

Especially the bigger they are, the less likely they are to be good.

In this world, corporations are no different from gangs that can ignore the law and public authority.

So, that salesman was essentially a gang member in a nice suit, with insurance and legal protection.

“That kind of person bowing?”

No way.

There’s no way his intentions were good.

Amon kept his eyes firmly on the salesman, filled with conviction.

Soon, the director led the salesman to the reception room.

After a while, the director and the salesman emerged, both wearing warm smiles.

Even from a distance, their atmosphere was heartwarming.

Just as Amon was starting to doubt his own suspicions, the director and the salesman approached the fireplace.

The kids warming their hands by the fire and those melting their chests with hot chocolate all turned their attention to the two newcomers.

Though wary of the unfamiliar salesman, seeing the director’s kind smile beside him eased their tension.

If she trusted him, he must be trustworthy.

That’s how much respect the director commanded.

Amon, too, found himself seriously considering breaking one of his absolute rules: never trust a corporate employee.

As he wrestled with his beliefs, the director introduced the salesman with a kind smile.

“This is someone from Hikzen Distribution, who donated items to the orphanage before.”

Hikzen Distribution.

The kids gasped at the name.

It was a mega-corporation that dominated the American distribution industry.

Amon, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes further.

This was too suspicious.

What could such a huge corporation want, braving this snowstorm to come to an orphanage?

His doubts were soon cleared by the director’s explanation.

“Among the donated items, there was one possessed by a ghost, so they came to discuss compensation. They’ll assess the damage and provide compensation. This company has been donating to us for years. I vouch for them, so you can trust them.”

Hearing that, Amon understood.

Cyberpunk Rule #1:

Generally, money and transactions don’t lie.

Therefore, this corporate employee was here with at least good intentions.

***

Generally, money and transactions don’t lie.

This rule precedes all other Cyberpunk rules and is an absolute law.

Even when Amon posted it in his past life’s community, everyone had to acknowledge it as an absolute rule.

Of course, some people questioned it.

“Huh? Don’t corporations kill customers to cover things up?”

But this comment misunderstands the rule.

The rule never said anything about not betraying customer trust.

It clearly states that money doesn’t lie.

In that comment’s case, the rule implies that corporations weigh whether killing a customer or compensating them is more financially beneficial.

If the corporation is a military supplier?

Killing the customer is fine.

They have the confidence not to get caught, the firepower, and even if they do, the image damage is less than the loss of keeping the customer alive.

But if the corporation is an insurance or security company?

They can’t kill the customer.

Their image relies on protecting people.

Killing a customer might bring short-term gains, but if caught, the image damage would be unimaginable.

Who would trust their life to a company that kills customers?

The loss would far exceed any gains from covering things up.

So, instead of killing the customer, they prepare enough money to silence them and only act when absolutely necessary.

In the end, in transactions involving money or equivalent, no one betrays.

Unless the other party is a psycho or too stupid to calculate, Rule #1 is absolute.

The director trusting the salesman and Amon opening his heart to him were both in line with this rule.

A ghost had possessed an item donated by the distribution company.

The image damage from that would be unimaginable.

But covering it up by slaughtering the orphans would be too inefficient.

So, settling it as an unfortunate accident and wrapping it up with a heartwarming image of compensation was far more beneficial.

Moreover, Amon knew another reason.

“Probably because of me and Sonia.”

A mega-corporation like Hikzen Distribution would have its own intelligence network.

They likely knew this orphanage had a divine power holder.

That’s why they had been donating for years to build goodwill.

And now, all that effort was about to go down the drain because of a haunted vase.

They must be furious.

This logic explained why a manager-level employee from such a corporation would brave the snowstorm in a salesman’s suit to come here.

The department head or CEO must have been breathing down his neck.

The evidence was clear in the dark circles under his eyes.

“Poor guy.”

Having worked at a black company that made him pull double shifts, Amon couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the manager.

But sympathy and forgiveness were different.

They had suffered so much because of that haunted vase.

He wanted to demand compensation for the mental damage.

Unfortunately, since he had to hide his divine power, he couldn’t say he had exorcised the ghost by smashing its head with a Bible.

Amon had to be the hero who physically drove out the ghost.

That embellished story was relayed to the salesman.

His eyes turned to Amon.

“He must suspect divine power.”

But Amon wasn’t a fool.

He had already prepared a countermeasure.

Amon and Sonia had silver anklets hidden under their pants.

When the director first gave them the anklets, saying they would ward off ghosts and bad luck, Amon thought they were just some germanium bracelets.

But as soon as they put them on, they realized.

The anklets blocked the leakage of divine power.

Amon could feel the warm energy unable to escape from his feet.

So, the salesman wouldn’t be able to detect anything.

As expected, the salesman, unaware, prepared to leave.

He seemed a bit suspicious of Amon, but it was only circumstantial evidence, not enough for certainty.

The director hurriedly saw him off.

“Take care on your way back!”

Many children waved their tiny hands to bid him farewell.

He left the orphanage with an awkward smile.

***

After leaving the orphanage, the salesman walked through the snowstorm, his glasses frosted over.

His steps were confident despite the blinding blizzard.

Behind his frosted glasses, his eyes glowed red as he looked ahead.

With his hands in his long coat pockets, he muttered to the air.

“Yes. Yes. Confirmed. A mystic power holder, you say?”

He shook his head, then covered his mouth with a soundproof glove and whispered.

“Narrowed it down to two candidates. Both were wearing silver anklets.”

As he spoke, his mechanical eye whirred, adjusting its pupil.

The all-seeing artificial eye peered through the snowstorm.

In the blizzard where one wrong step could mean disaster, the salesman shrugged as if joking and said,

“Both? Impossible. You know mystic power holders can only be born one per region. Two in one city is theoretically impossible.”

Of course, his theory couldn’t explain why both were wearing anklets.

But the salesman already had a theory to explain the situation.

“Seems one is a decoy. You know, like in Japan—shadow samurai? Ah, kagemusha? Yes, that’s it.”

He removed the glove from his mouth and continued his monologue.

“Yes. Understood. I’ll proceed as ordered.”

His monologue ended there.

The salesman in the long coat walked into the snowstorm.

His steps showed not a hint of hesitation.

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