Ch.313Side Story. Cyberpunk 2088 (3)

David was gradually feeling his consciousness return.

Strangely, despite being caught in that massive explosion earlier, he felt puzzled by his seemingly intact body… when he suddenly realized he was standing somewhere on a street.

“…Where is this?”

Unlike the gloomy Neo-LA shrouded in pollution-induced fog, here was a clear, bright sky, clean air filling his lungs, ordinary people moving through the streets, and—

Somehow, he found himself sitting in a street café, sipping a cup of coffee he had ordered.

In this bizarre situation where he couldn’t comprehend how events had unfolded, David was savoring the warm café latte when he suddenly realized this was ‘real’ food.

In his understanding, coffee that common people could enjoy was made from reprocessed caffeine substances, and the milk in café lattes wasn’t extracted from cows or even a living creature’s milk, but something else entirely.

This coffee, however, was a café latte made with actual ‘coffee beans’ and ‘milk,’ and the small snack provided as a complimentary item appeared to be made from real ingredients rather than sawdust or flour substitutes.

Naturally dumbfounded, David suddenly noticed the ‘warmth’ from the coffee cup he was holding. Startled, he set down the cup and looked at his hand—

Instead of the low-quality cheap prosthetic made by Ananas Technology, he was shocked to find a real hand of flesh and blood—the one he had amputated for implant installation when he got his job.

When David lifted his head and looked around, the scenery before his eyes was definitely not from the place he had lived.

People drinking coffee in the café or walking the streets were wearing clothes that had been fashionable decades ago, and nowhere on their bodies could he spot even a single implant.

Moreover, they carried separate digital devices instead of holograms, and the overall interior design exuded a distinctly vintage feel.

Most decisively, outside the window, various sizes of ‘street trees’ lined the road.

In the year 2088, street trees didn’t exist even in MegaCorp jurisdictions and were only produced in specially designed greenhouses under strict conditions…

David was certain. This wasn’t the 2088 city he knew.

Just then, as he was forming this conviction, a server approached him with a question.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, would it be possible to share your table?”

Noticing that all the surrounding tables were full, David nodded reflexively at the soft-faced female server with long brown hair.

“Thank you, sir.”

The server thanked him and placed a plate of small desserts on his table as an apology for the unexpected table-sharing. As David was about to put a piece of pie (tart) made with some unfamiliar fruit into his mouth—

“…Excuse me.”

A middle-aged man, presumably the one who had requested to share the table, approached and sat down across from David.

Dressed in a vivid blood-red suit and wearing a fedora, the man was strikingly handsome, with elegantly groomed white hair and a pristine white beard.

As David stared at him, mesmerized by an appearance rarely seen in Neo-LA, he suddenly realized that this man seemed distinctly different from everyone else.

This wasn’t a logical deduction or rational judgment, but rather an instinctive, sensory conviction that told David that among everything here, only this man before him was real.

Because of this, he could ask with certainty:

“…Who are you?”

David was convinced that this man, now sipping tea that had somehow appeared on the table, was the very person responsible for creating this situation.

“Well… who do you think I am?”

And as the man asked this meaningful question—

“—Huh?”

The next moment, everything in David’s field of vision—no, the entire world—turned completely gray and froze, leaving only David himself and the man.

David couldn’t comprehend the current situation at all.

First, he had inexplicably awakened in some strange world from decades ago, then found himself sitting in this café having ordered coffee, and now he was witnessing this surreal scene.

As David stared at the middle-aged man in the red suit with fearful eyes, sweat streaming down his face, the man took another sip from his teacup, looked directly at Peter, and spoke.

“What were you doing before you came here?”

And only then could David clearly recognize the situation, as if illuminating a previously blurry form.

While working at the shop, he had instinctively sensed something and thrown himself toward the safety room without hesitation, right before a small anti-tank missile from outside had blown away about half of the store.

And in that explosion, David had been caught, caught and…

“…Am I dead?”

“You could say that.”

To David’s question, the man answered calmly, looking straight at him as he began to explain.

“If you had moved a bit faster, you might have gotten away with losing just one leg, but your physical body is already dying from the impact. Even my dagger won’t be able to postpone your death.”

“I… see… So this is the end for me?”

Already resigned as he had been throughout his life, David asked dejectedly, but… why?

“Do you want it to be the end? Do you wish to die like this?”

Faced with the overwhelming charisma and aura of the old man who asked such a question while gazing at him intently, David finally surrendered and revealed his true feelings.

“I… don’t want to die. I want to live, just… I just want to live.”

Initially, David had intended to make up a reason for not wanting to die, but upon seeing the man’s face, he somehow felt he shouldn’t lie and expressed his true feelings without pretense.

“I hate death. To die so meaninglessly like this… if I could at least get back at those who killed me, then…”

And at that point, David suddenly felt a question arise from deep within.

Even so, what difference would it make?

This world had long since collapsed into nothing but ruins, where the strong exploited the weak in a series of meaningless events.

What difference would it make for someone like him, destined to perish while living a hamster-wheel life, even if he fell into the slums where he might die tomorrow?

…It needs to change.

What?

This absurd reality, this desolate world spinning meaninglessly.

Then what would be different?

At least there would be fewer people living without purpose like himself. That would be enough.

Is that really all?

No. This is revenge. Revenge against those who feast atop mountains of corpses—

As David’s self-reflection reached this point, he suddenly noticed that his surroundings had changed.

The café, once filled with warm, vintage decorations, had somehow become an empty black void, with only the table and chairs still in their places, and…

The man sitting across from David… had no face.

It wasn’t that it had disappeared or vanished. David simply realized now that the man had never had a face from the beginning, from their first meeting.

And looking at this man, a thought occurred to David.

“Y-you, are you… perhaps… G-God?”

Recalling the ancient faiths he had learned during his mandatory education, David asked this question to the ‘someone’ before him. The being, now gradually transforming into a crimson light, looked directly at David and—

《It’s time to wake from your dream, my child.》

Gently pushed David’s consciousness up toward the surface.