Chapter 39

In the cyberpunk world, death is all too common.

If you ask how common, when a report of a dead body comes in, instead of the police responding, they’ll just give you the Cleaners’ phone number.

Since the Police Station was privatized, they avoid investigating unprofitable violent crimes as much as possible.

Even if they do, it’s limited to cases where corporate figures are harmed. You can bet they’d never investigate for some bottom-tier mercenary.

Of course, there are a few cases where the so-called police do show up for a murder.

One is when the murder happens blatantly in the middle of the street. The gorilla Amon encountered was a prime example.

Another is when it’s one of the rare 0.001% true cops in this city. Amon hasn’t met one of those yet.

And the last is when the investigation is just an excuse, and there’s some ulterior motive. The cop trembling in front of Amon right now was that exact example.

Dribbling blood instead of saliva, the cop begged Amon.

“Please… just spare my life…”

Amon looked down at the cop, who was kneeling and pleading pathetically.

‘What a rotten city…’

In this world, what would’ve been considered unfair in his past life happens as casually as breathing.

Amon loved this fascinating world, but the occasional unfairness was hard to bear.

Suppressing the anger rising from deep within, he recalled what had happened that morning.

*

After Sonia left for school and only Amon was home, the police showed up.

The reason? A murder investigation.

Amon, with 20 years of past-life experience, knew full well that the investigation was just a pretext.

Amon raised his guard and opened the door.

He wasn’t armed.

If he opened the door armed, the police could shoot him and claim self-defense.

Luckily, the cop tried to talk right after the door opened.

“Amon Perfumerose. Correct?”

“That’s me.”

“Humph died yesterday, so we’re investigating. So, where were you after the party disbanded?”

The cop interrogated Amon with a somewhat forceful attitude.

Amon’s gaze shifted to the cop’s shoulder.

He wasn’t even wearing a body cam.

This wasn’t an official investigation.

‘They’re really going all out.’

Amon must’ve seemed like the easiest target among the suspects.

According to the police database, Amon was just an orphan with no backing.

To the cop, he was the perfect socially vulnerable target to strong-arm.

Coincidentally, the young man in front of the cop wasn’t socially vulnerable.

Unofficially, he had connections to the Vatican and the 3 Dollar Group.

But this time, he didn’t even need to use those connections.

At first, Amon acted like an ordinary citizen scared of the police.

Feigning fear of the cop’s authority, he obediently got into the car.

Up until Amon got into the car, the cop thought he had achieved his goal.

But when the police car arrived at a back alley behind a Clinic Center instead of the Police Station, and the cop opened the back door, Amon changed.

“Are you human trash?”

With those words, Amon, who had already freed himself from the handcuffs, shattered the cop’s jaw.

He had followed along just in case, by some lottery-level chance, this was a true cop, but as soon as they parked behind the Clinic Center, he knew.

A corrupt cop arresting someone and parking behind an old hospital? That definitely didn’t mean anything good.

From that moment, Amon’s unrestrained violence began.

“How are you any different from Scavengers?”

The cop, being ground under Amon’s foot, screamed for help.

But no one came to save him.

The cop had turned off his radio and body cam to avoid leaving evidence, and choosing a back alley where no one would see had backfired.

Realizing no help was coming, the cop tried to resist.

At first, he tried to attack Amon with a baton or his gun.

But Amon, who had easily taken down Scavengers with full-body implants, was no match for some half-baked cop.

If he pulled out a baton, he got hit with it. If he pulled out a gun, it got snatched, and his knees got shot.

Realizing that resisting only made it worse, the cop eventually gave up.

He begged for mercy instead.

“Pwease… spare me…”

Dribbling blood, the cop pleaded with a slurred voice.

The cop held onto hope for mercy until Amon looked away.

But.

*Slash.*

“Gurgle?”

The cop’s gaze dropped downward.

Hot liquid gushed from his neck.

Worried about blood splatter, Amon stepped behind the cop, kicked him, and sent him sprawling to the ground.

A red puddle spread across the floor.

Amon coldly looked down at the cop’s body, then stepped away.

As he left, he fiddled with his phone and sent a message to the Boss of the Mercenary Agency.

[Boss. This happened. Can you handle the cleanup?]

After sending the message, he tossed a bloodied shard of glass into a trash pile.

Then, with three jumps, he entered the Clinic Center through an open window.

*

What’s the difference between a hospital and a clinic?

There are many differences.

Both have doctors, nurses, and offer treatment.

There’s even no difference in the treatments available.

You can get the same services at a large Clinic Center as at a big hospital.

In fact, the Clinic Center is much cheaper.

So, what’s the difference?

‘The difference is trust.’

Amon sneered as he manipulated the center’s computer.

Unlike hospitals, Clinic Centers don’t have government approval or certification marks.

In this messed-up world, you’d think that wouldn’t matter, but surprisingly, it does.

Statistically, if there’s a 10% chance of getting backstabbed at a hospital, it’s about 45% at a Clinic Center.

Hospitals, charging more, tend to avoid the backstabbing option, but either way, hospitals are a bit more ethical.

Amon didn’t bring Paul’s party to a hospital for no reason.

In contrast, the Clinic Center where Humph’s younger sibling was admitted wasn’t exactly clean.

‘Human experiments, organ trafficking…’

Amon uncovered the full story of what happened at this center.

A megacorp was behind it.

He didn’t know which one, but this center regularly conducted human experiments under the megacorp’s orders.

After the experiments, they’d meticulously harvest implants and organs from the corpses.

‘Why the hell did Humph admit his sibling to a place like this…’

The experiment Humph’s sibling was part of was a Cyberization Experiment.

Unfortunately, due to multiple errors in the experiment, their consciousness could never return to this world.

But the company behind the experiment wasn’t satisfied.

Thinking they lacked enough test subjects, they urgently wanted more.

So, the center overstepped.

They tried to drag in Humph, the sibling’s guardian, and his acquaintances.

And their first target was the easiest one—Amon.

‘Why does this world never leave me alone?’

Well, in a cyberpunk world, that’s surprisingly common.

A harsh world for orphans without family.

In a world where uninsured people getting into an ambulance means organ harvesting is the default option, maybe he’d been too naive to enjoy peace.

‘Why did it have to be a place like this…’

Not that it was Humph’s fault.

He had to save his sibling, and being poor isn’t a crime.

But Amon wanted someone to blame.

Amon rubbed his throbbing forehead.

The computer had a pre-filled report form for incoming test subjects.

Orc Tanker, Elf Mage.

Both seemed to have no insurance or family, like Humph.

But there was one report he couldn’t ignore.

————————

<Sonia Perfumerose>

Personal Details

– Spouse of Amon Perfumerose

————————

He wasn’t planning to let it slide anyway, but seeing this made it impossible.

Just then, the message he’d been waiting for from the Boss arrived.

[Do it if you can.]

It was practically permission.

Amon turned off his phone.

*Click.*

He shut down the computer he’d been manipulating and put on a doctor’s coat hanging nearby.

Putting on a medical mask and surgical cap, Amon looked at himself in the mirror.

‘This should do.’

He walked out of the room.

“Take the day off, Doctor.”

No response came.

The doctor slumped in the chair had a curtain cord around his neck.

Amon, replacing the late doctor, went on his rounds.

***

As Amon walked through the corridors, no one suspected him.

Partly because this was a world where people generally didn’t care about others, but mostly because this center wasn’t exactly running normally.

Amon naturally headed to the Operating Room.

The patient was already dead, and the extraction of implants was in full swing.

“Ah, you’re here, Doctor?”

Amon nodded without speaking.

He glanced around the Operating Room.

As expected, no CCTV.

Why would there be in a place like this?

It wasn’t a surgery to save lives but to harvest parts.

The medical staff casually extracted parts in a space where hygiene was an afterthought.

Amon picked up a bone saw and positioned himself appropriately.

Before the staff could question his position, his arm swung.

*Slash!*

Blood spurted from several necks.

*Thud, thud, thunk!*

*Thump.*

As blood rained down and heads rolled discordantly across the Operating Room, Amon made a sad face and drew a cross.

“May the deceased rest in peace.”

He grabbed a couple of bone saws and several scalpels, then quietly left the Operating Room.

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