Christmas Eve turned out to be a White Christmas, just as the weather forecast predicted.
It was so white that the roads were completely blocked.
“This isn’t a White Christmas; it’s a White Disaster.”
Sonia, standing beside Amon, nodded in agreement as she heard his muttering.
The snow, which had started falling a week ago, continued until Christmas Eve.
Thanks to that, the younger children at the orphanage were in a festive mood.
For young children, snow is always a welcome gift from the sky.
However, for the people who had to clear that snow, it was a curse and a nuisance by its mere existence.
Most people come to this realization after serving in the military or getting a job like a part-time gig.
Amon and Sonia, along with the older siblings at the orphanage, had learned this truth a bit earlier than most.
They had to shovel the snow and sweep it away.
Sonia, who had been excited about this year’s White Christmas, was already cursing the snow falling from the sky after just two hours of shoveling.
When a giant snowplow, almost the size of a tank, came by and cleared a path, the children would quickly push the snow from inside the orphanage out onto the public road in front of it.
In Colorado, where the snow fell at insane levels, this was the most efficient way to clear it.
Put it by the side of the road? Who knew how much more snow would come, or for how long?
The climate was already messed up due to environmental destruction, so delaying snow removal wasn’t even an option.
That’s why the city’s snow removal method involved snowplows connected to subspaces sweeping away the snow that the citizens had thrown onto the roads.
Many accidents happened when people couldn’t avoid the oncoming snowplows, but in a world where thousands of people were shot dead every day, no one cared.
Luckily, this tragedy hadn’t reached the orphanage.
Thanks to Amon and Sonia’s strict safety controls and the cooperation of the children, they were able to continue clearing the snow without any accidents.
But not all of the children were cooperative.
Some of them found Amon’s instructions annoying and did whatever they wanted.
Most of these were led by Jimmy and his followers.
However, the reason they hadn’t had any accidents was that they didn’t just ignore Amon’s safety instructions—they didn’t participate in the snow removal at all.
They only came out with shovels and brooms because they were interested in the special snacks given after the snow removal, but they didn’t actually help clear the snow.
Instead, they gathered in a corner, joking and chatting among themselves.
Amon left them alone, having given up on them.
‘Well, at least they aren’t getting in the way of the work.’
Jimmy and the others were going to graduate from the orphanage soon anyway.
There was no point in forcing them to work, just as you wouldn’t make the senior soldiers in the army work near the end of their service.
Amon figured he could do a little more work to make up for it.
‘No matter how much the world changes, army habits don’t go away.’
Amon comforted himself with this thought and continued working.
Of course, he was angry, and part of him wanted to flatten their heads with the shovel.
Amon was no saint.
But, even so.
He forgave them.
He recalled the goddess who had loved him, constantly reminding himself of how blessed he was, and that helped him forgive them.
‘Bastards. When we get back, I’m not putting syrup in your hot chocolate.’
A small, petty revenge was mixed in, but still, Amon forgave them.
***
After finishing the morning snow clearing, the children returned to the orphanage.
Since the snowplows only came to the street by the orphanage in the morning, there was no point in clearing the snow in the afternoon.
They gathered indoors, warming themselves by the stove and chatting with the younger children.
“Big bro! I want to clear snow like you!”
Amon couldn’t help but give a bitter smile at the child’s words.
It was something an 8-year-old would say.
At that age, snow shoveling probably looked easy.
They didn’t realize that after an hour of continuous shoveling, your mind would start to go blank.
Besides, at 8 years old, snow still looked more like a toy than trash.
Amon couldn’t bring himself to let the child help, so he just gave a vague response, telling him he’d get to do it when he was older.
Surrounded by the younger children and sipping sweet hot chocolate, Amon was enjoying a rare moment of peace when someone visited the orphanage.
“Who could it be? Who would come through this blizzard?”
He had no idea.
It wouldn’t be a government worker coming to check on the safety of the orphanage children.
If this world had government workers who worked that diligently, the city wouldn’t be in such a mess.
“A robber? Never.”
“Robbery was something people did to survive, and on a day like this, trying to rob someone could easily turn into a disaster.”
‘Besides, there was no point in robbing an orphanage.’
“Documentary crew? Religious cult? Those options crossed his mind, but he dismissed them too.”
If someone had braved the blizzard to get here, they either had a desperate purpose or were someone who only came when it snowed like this.
‘The most likely possibility was that the police had come to issue a fine for not clearing enough snow. ‘
In fact, a couple of years ago, the police had come to issue a fine for snow that hadn’t been cleared.
By law, you didn’t have to clear snow for 24 hours after the snowplow passed.
No one could be expected to endlessly shovel snow.
But that police officer had fined them anyway.
He had been desperate for results and thought the orphanage director wouldn’t know the law well.
Along with the fine, he had subtly hinted that a bribe would make the issue go away.
Unfortunately for him, the director had a sharp understanding of the law, and he had to leave with his tail between his legs.
For the record, that same police officer was found dead the next day in another front yard.
Turns out, he had tried to pull the same trick on a gang leader’s house.
But back to the present.
Since there had been such a precedent, it was highly likely to happen again this time.
No, it was practically certain.
Whoever was coming through the blizzard was unlikely to be a kind soul.
With that expectation, Amon focused his attention on the entrance.
“Who will walk through that door?”
As Amon waited by the stove where he could see the entrance, the nun soon opened the door.
Standing in the doorway was a man in a business suit, unmistakably the image of a salesman.
Although he was a bit far away and hard to see in detail, Amon could spot a corporate badge pinned to his chest.
‘What company is that?’
It was an unfamiliar one.
Amon, who knew the logos and silhouettes of most large corporations, didn’t recognize this badge.
‘Well, it’s only natural. A lot can change in fifty years.’
Since he’d come to this world, he’d seen plenty of unfamiliar companies, so it wasn’t a big deal.
Amon focused on the conversation between the salesman and the nun at the entrance.
Although he couldn’t hear what they were saying, the way the salesman repeatedly bowed his head gave the impression that he wasn’t a bad person.
‘No, stay sharp, Amon. This is cyberpunk.’
Cyberpunk Rule #2: There are no good corporations. The bigger the corporation, the less likely they are to be good.
In this world, corporations were little different from gangs that had the power to ignore laws and public authority.
So that salesman could very well be a gang member—only one with a neat suit, insurance, and legal protection.
‘And a guy like that is bowing his head?’
No way.
No way it was out of good intentions.
Amon didn’t take his eyes off the salesman, watching him with certainty.
Soon, the orphanage director led the salesman into the reception room.
After some time, the director came out, wearing a warm smile, alongside the salesman.
Even from a distance, it was clear that their interaction had been friendly and positive.
As Amon began to doubt his suspicions, the director and the salesman approached the stove.
The children, who had been warming their hands by the fire or enjoying hot chocolate, noticed the pair coming and turned their attention to them.
At first, everyone was on alert at the sight of the unfamiliar salesman, but seeing the kind smile of the director put them at ease.
‘If she trusted him, he was trustworthy.’
That’s how much respect the director commanded.
Even Amon, who lived by his unbreakable rule of never trusting corporate employees, was starting to wonder if he should break it this time.
As he was wrestling with his beliefs, the director introduced the salesman with a gentle smile.
“This is a representative from Hexen Distribution, the company that donated goods to the orphanage recently.”
Hexen Distribution.
Upon hearing that name, the children gasped.
It was only natural, as this was one of the giant corporations controlling the U.S. distribution industry.
In contrast, Amon’s brow furrowed even more.
‘It was too suspicious.’
‘What could a company that large possibly need from an orphanage in the middle of a blizzard?’
His question was soon answered by the director’s explanation.
“One of the items donated last time was possessed by a ghost, and he’s here to discuss compensation. He’ll assess the damage and compensate us accordingly. This company has been donating to us regularly for years. I can vouch for them, so please feel free to speak up.”
Only then did Amon understand.
Cyberpunk Rule #1: Money and business deals generally don’t lie.
Therefore, this salesman had at least come with good intentions.
This rule superseded all other cyberpunk rules and was an absolute law.
Even when Amon had posted it in his previous life’s online communities, everyone had no choice but to agree.
Of course, some had questioned it.
[What? Don’t corporations kill customers all the time to silence them?]
But those comments misunderstood the rule.
Nowhere in that rule did it say that corporations wouldn’t betray the trust of their customers.
It simply stated that money doesn’t lie.
In that case, applying the rule meant that corporations weigh the financial benefit of killing a customer versus compensating them and act accordingly.
‘If it’s a military company? Sure, they might kill the customer.’
‘They have the means, they can cover it up, and even if they get caught, the damage to their image isn’t as bad as the potential loss of letting the customer live.’
‘But if it’s an insurance or security company? They can’t kill their customers. Those companies thrive on an image of saving lives. Killing a customer might bring short-term gains, but if they get caught, the damage to their reputation would be catastrophic. Who would trust their life to a company known for killing its clients?’
It would cause a loss far greater than just paying them off.
So, in transactions involving money or items of equivalent value, no one betrays anyone.
As long as the other party isn’t a complete psycho or so dense they can’t do basic math, Rule #1 is absolute.
That was why the director easily trusted the salesman and why Amon felt his suspicions starting to fade.
The fact that an item donated by Hexen Distribution was haunted would be a PR disaster for the company.
Killing off the orphanage to cover it up would be far too inefficient.
It was much more profitable to settle the incident as an unfortunate accident and compensate them, leaving a heartwarming impression behind.
And Amon knew there was another reason, one only he was aware of.
‘It’s probably because of Sonia and me.’
A corporation as big as Hexen Distribution likely had its own independent intelligence network.
They probably knew by now that the orphanage had someone who possessed divine power.
That would explain why they’d been steadily donating to the orphanage for years, building goodwill.
And now, to see all that effort crumble over a single haunted vase? They probably couldn’t sleep out of frustration.
When you looked at it that way, it made perfect sense why a corporate manager had braved the snow in a salesman’s suit to come all the way out here.
His higher-ups—be it his boss or the company’s president—must have been breathing down his neck.
The proof? The dark circles under his eyes spoke volumes about his exhaustion.
‘Poor guy.’
Having once worked for a black company that made him pull two consecutive overnight shifts, Amon couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for the man.
However, sympathy and forgiveness were two entirely different matters.
Amon had gone through a lot of trouble because of that haunted vase.
He wanted to demand compensation for the mental distress it caused.
Unfortunately, in his current situation, where he had to hide the fact that he possessed divine power, he couldn’t exactly say he’d exorcised the ghost by smashing it with a Bible.
Amon had to remain the brave soul who had physically driven the ghost away.
That was the version of the story the salesman was told.
The salesman’s eyes turned toward Amon.
‘He’s probably suspicious of my divine power.’
But Amon wasn’t stupid.
He had already prepared for this.
Both Amon and Sonia were wearing silver anklets under their pants.
When the orphanage director had first given them the anklets, saying they would ward off evil spirits and bad luck, Amon had thought they were like those gimmicky germanium bracelets.
But, since the gift had been given with sincerity, he wore it—and quickly noticed something.
The anklets had the effect of blocking the leakage of divine power.
Amon could feel the warmth of energy trapped inside his legs, unable to escape.
So, there was nothing the salesman could detect.
Just as Amon had predicted, the salesman began preparing to leave, having sensed nothing unusual.
Although he still seemed to harbor some doubts about Amon, they were only circumstantial, and he hadn’t reached any firm conclusions.
The director hurriedly saw the puzzled salesman off.
“Please be careful on your way back!”
A crowd of children waved their small hands, bidding him farewell.
The salesman gave them a sheepish smile as he left the orphanage.
Outside, he walked down the snow-covered road, still wearing his frost-covered glasses.
Despite the blizzard, his steps were confident and steady.
Beyond the frosted lenses, his eyes glowed red as they focused ahead.
With his hands shoved into the pockets of his long coat, he muttered into the air.
“Yes. Yes. I’ve confirmed it. Yes, you’re asking about the ones with mystical powers?”
He nodded to himself, then covered his mouth with soundproof gloves, whispering so no one could overhear.
“I’ve narrowed it down to two candidates. Both were wearing silver anklets.”
His eyes adjusted with a mechanical whirr, recalibrating his pupils.
The artificial eye behind the frosted glasses scanned the snowstorm ahead, as if he could see through everything.
In the dangerous snowstorm, where one might easily lose their way, the salesman shrugged nonchalantly, as if he were joking with someone.
“The possibility of it being both of them? None. You know as well as I do that only one person with mystical powers can be born in any given region. It’s impossible for two to exist in the same city.”
Of course, according to his logic, it was hard to explain why two people were wearing anklets. But the salesman had already come up with a theory to account for the situation.
“One of them is probably a decoy. There’s a term for that in Japan, isn’t there? A shadow warrior. Oh, that’s right. Kagemusha, I believe it’s called?”
He removed the gloves from his mouth and continued muttering to himself.
“Yes. Understood. I’ll proceed as instructed.”
That was the end of his conversation.
The salesman, clad in his long coat, walked off into the snowstorm.
His steps were firm, without the slightest hint of hesitation.