In the world of cyberpunk, death is all too common.
If you ask how common, it’s to the extent that when the police receive a report of a body found, instead of dispatching officers, they just hand out a cleaner’s contact number.
With the privatization of the police department, they try to avoid investigating non-profitable serious crimes.
And even if they do, it’s limited to cases involving corporate victims.
You could say they never investigate for the sake of low-level mercenaries.
Of course, there are some instances where the so-called “police” actually respond to murder cases.
One instance is when a murder is blatantly committed in the middle of the street.
The gorilla that Amon met is a prime example of this.
Another is when the officer is a rare, genuine police officer, belonging to the top 0.001% of this city.
Amon has yet to encounter one of these.
Lastly, there’s the case when the investigation is just an excuse, and they have another hidden agenda.
The example of this was the trembling police officer currently before Amon.
The officer, bleeding instead of drooling, pleaded to Amon.
“Please… just spare me…”
Amon looked down at the officer, who had even dropped to his knees, pathetically begging for mercy.
‘What a damned city…’
This is a world where situations that would seem absurd by the standards of his previous life happen daily.
Amon did love this captivating world, but sometimes, these absurdities were hard to endure.
Suppressing the anger rising from deep within, he recalled what had happened that morning.
***
After Sonia had gone to school, the police came to the house where only Amon was present.
The reason was to investigate a murder case.
With twenty years of experience from his previous life, Amon knew well that this investigation was just a formality.
Raising his guard, Amon opened the door.
He hadn’t armed himself.
If he was armed the moment he opened the door, the police would be justified in shooting him in self-defense.
Fortunately, as soon as he opened the door, the officer tried to initiate a conversation.
“Amon Perfumrose, right?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“We’ve started investigating since Hump died yesterday. So, where were you after the party broke up?”
The officer interrogated Amon in a rather coercive tone.
Amon’s gaze drifted toward the officer’s shoulder.
No body camera was equipped.
That meant it wasn’t an official investigation.
‘They’re really going for it.’
They probably saw Amon as the easiest target among the suspects in this case.
According to the police database, this young man named Amon would show up as an orphan with no backing.
From their perspective, he appeared to be a socially vulnerable person, perfect for a show of force.
Ironically, the young man standing before the officer wasn’t exactly socially vulnerable.
Unofficially, he had connections to the Vatican and the 3 Dollar Group.
But he didn’t even need to use those connections this time.
At first, Amon played the role of a frightened, ordinary citizen before the police.
Pretending to be intimidated by their authority, he obediently got into the car.
The officer thought he had achieved his goal when Amon got into the car.
But when the police car arrived at an alley behind a clinic instead of the station, and the officer opened the back door, Amon’s demeanor changed.
“Are you even human?”
With those words, Amon, who had already removed his handcuffs, smashed the officer’s jaw.
There was always the slightest chance that the officer might be genuine, so he had followed them willingly.
But as soon as they parked behind the clinic, he realized it.
When a corrupt cop arrests someone and parks behind an old clinic, it usually doesn’t mean anything good.
This was when Amon’s merciless assault began.
“How are you any different from a scavenger?”
The officer, who was being relentlessly stomped by Amon, screamed for mercy.
But no one came to help.
Afraid evidence might be left behind, the officer had turned off his radio and body cam, choosing an alley where no one would be watching—a choice that had now backfired.
Realizing that no help would come, the officer attempted a form of resistance.
At first, he tried targeting Amon with a baton or even a gun.
But Amon had easily overpowered even scavengers, whose entire bodies were modified with implants.
There was no way an average officer could put up a meaningful fight against him.
If he drew a baton, he got hit with it; if he pulled out a gun, it was taken and used to crush his knees.
The more he resisted, the more painfully he was struck, until the officer eventually gave up on resisting.
He belatedly abandoned resistance and began begging for mercy.
“Please… spare me…”
The officer, bleeding profusely and slurring his words, groveled.
Up until Amon shifted his gaze, the officer had held out hope for mercy.
But then—
Slash.
“Hrrk?”
The officer looked down.
A hot liquid gushed out of his neck.
Amon had moved behind him, kicking him to the ground to avoid any blood splattering on himself.
A red pool spread across the ground.
Amon looked down at the fallen officer with cold eyes before stepping away.
On his way, he operated his phone and sent a message to the head of the mercenary office.
[Boss, given the situation, can you handle the cleanup?]
After sending the message, he tossed the blood-stained glass shard into a trash pile.
Then, he jumped three times through the open window of the clinic center.
***
What’s the difference between a hospital and a clinic?
There are many differences.
Both have doctors, nurses, and can provide treatment.
There’s not even a difference in the types of treatment available.
Even at a large clinic center, you can receive the same services as a big hospital.
In fact, the clinic center is much cheaper.
So, what’s the difference between the two?
‘It’s a matter of trust.’
Amon sneered as he manipulated the center’s computer.
Unlike hospitals, clinic centers don’t have government approval or certification marks.
You’d think that wouldn’t matter in a corrupt world, but ironically, it does.
Statistically, while there’s a 10% chance of being deceived at a hospital, at a clinic center, it’s about 45%.
Hospitals, where people pay more, don’t necessarily choose to betray their patients, but they are somewhat more conscientious.
There was a reason Amon had taken Paul’s party to a hospital.
In contrast, this clinic center, where Hump’s younger sibling had been hospitalized, was far from clean.
‘Human experimentation, organ trafficking…’
Amon discovered the full story of the incidents at this center.
Behind this center, a large corporation was involved.
Though he couldn’t pinpoint which corporation, the center regularly conducted human experiments under the corporation’s orders.
After the experiments, they meticulously harvested implants and organs from the corpses.
‘Why on earth did that bastard Hump have to hospitalize his sibling in a place like this…’
The human experiment Hump’s sibling participated in was a neuro-enhancement trial.
Unfortunately, due to multiple errors, his consciousness could never return to this world.
But the corporation sponsoring the center wasn’t satisfied with just this.
Believing they lacked enough test subjects, they urgently wanted more samples.
So, the center crossed a line.
They aimed to drag in Hump, the sibling’s guardian, and even Hump’s acquaintances.
And the person they found easiest to target was Amon.
‘It feels like this world never leaves me alone.’
Well, it was surprisingly common in cyberpunk.
A harsh world for orphans without family.
Maybe he had been enjoying peace too complacently in a world where uninsured people, if they got into an ambulance, were stripped of their organs as a default option.
‘Of all places, why choose this one…’
Of course, it wasn’t Hump’s fault.
He needed to save his sibling, and being poor wasn’t a crime.
But Amon couldn’t help wanting to find someone to blame.
Amon rubbed his throbbing forehead.
On the computer, there was a pre-filled report template for upcoming test subjects.
An orc tanker, an elf wizard.
Both appeared to be without insurance or family, like Hump.
But there was an entry on the report form he couldn’t overlook.<Sonia Perfumrose>
Personal Information
— Spouse of Amon Perfumrose
He hadn’t planned on letting this slide, but seeing this made it impossible to overlook.
Just then, he received the awaited message from the boss.
[Try it if you can.]
It was essentially permission.
Amon turned off his phone.
Click, click.
He shut down the computer he had been operating, then donned 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 a break today, Doctor.”
No reply came.
A curtain cord was wrapped around the neck of the doctor slumped in the chair.
In place of the doctor, who had his eyes closed, Amon went on the ward rounds.
***
As Amon wandered through the hallways, no one suspected him.
It was a world where people were generally indifferent to others, but more than that, this center wasn’t a place that operated normally.
Amon naturally headed to the operating room.
The patient was already dead, and the implant extraction work was well underway.
“Oh, Doctor, you’re here?”
Amon nodded without speaking.
He surveyed the operating room.
As expected, there was no CCTV.
A place where such deeds were conducted wouldn’t have surveillance.
It wasn’t a surgery to save lives, but rather to harvest parts.
In a room indifferent to hygiene, the medical staff casually extracted components.
Amon picked up a bone saw and took a suitable position.
Before the medical staff could question his placement, his arm swung.
Splat!
Blood spurted from the necks of several people.
Thud, thump, thud!
With a rain of blood and heads rolling in discordant chaos, Amon crossed himself with sorrowful eyes.
“Rest in peace.”
He collected two bone saws and several scalpels, then quietly exited the operating room.