The weather was clear. For Night City—a city often battered by sandstorms—today was a rare and beautiful day. After finishing breakfast, Kar
The weather was clear. For Night City—a city often battered by sandstorms—today was a rare and beautiful day.
After finishing breakfast, Karl stared at the sky outside his window, then headed out.
Night City's sandstorms weren't just violent—they were also radioactive. Being able to go out on a day like this was truly a blessing.
He took the elevator down to the ground floor. After stepping out of the megatower onto a road in Little China, a Herrera Outlaw GTS was already parked there waiting for him.
Though the windows were still up, Karl seemed able to see right through the glass, as if he could recognize the person inside. He smiled at the car.
He walked around to the other side. The door opened automatically, and Karl got into the passenger seat. He greeted the driver:
"Good morning, Maki."
"Good morning, Karl."
At the wheel, Takemura Maki gave him a small nod.
Today was the day Karl had agreed to accompany Hanako as a friend to meet her mother—Michiko Arasaka. They'd arranged it the day before: Maki would pick him up. And she was, as always, perfectly punctual.
The car started moving. Maki didn't touch the steering wheel, leaving everything to the vehicle's autonomous control system. Watching the scenery blur past outside the window, she suddenly asked:
"Have you ever met Aunt Michiko before, Karl?"
Met Michiko?
"You mean in person or on screen? In person—no. On screen? Plenty of times."
"I see."
Maki nodded in understanding. "So today's the first time."
"Pretty much. What about you?"
Karl's gaze followed the passing scenery. He turned his head to look at Maki. "You and Hanako are pretty close, right? I imagine you've met Michiko Arasaka quite a few times before."
"That was a long time ago," Maki recalled. "Back when I was a kid, I remember Aunt Michiko as someone always on the cutting edge of fashion."
"Cutting edge?" Karl looked puzzled. He tried to recall how Michiko looked in the media. "You mean like... kitsch?"
Kitsch—a fashion trend that had become popular on the streets in recent years—stood for chaos and rebellion. It focused on outward appearances, ignoring inner substance.
Flamboyant, bold, gaudy—it might've seemed attention-seeking at first glance, but it was actually a form of cultural expression, reflecting people's dissatisfaction with reality and their craving for individuality.
To Karl, kitsch reminded him of the once-popular shamate culture—both styles were flashy, colorful, and short-lived. But unlike shamate, which had faded into obscurity, kitsch had gone global and become a cultural phenomenon.
In Karl's memory, Michiko Arasaka's appearances in public—her style and outfits—resembled kitsch fashion to some degree.
"Maybe there's some similarity," Maki said thoughtfully. "But I get the feeling that when we see her today, she'll be wearing something completely different again. And that style? It's probably going to be the next big thing."
"When I saw Aunt Michiko as a kid, she looked different every time. Always distinctive. And soon enough, you'd start seeing people on the street copying her look. She'd set trends just by existing."
A hint of admiration crept into her voice. "She's always ahead of the curve. Aunt Michiko is incredible. Just watching what she wears is like getting a sneak peek at the next wave of fashion. She's like a magician—unpredictable, magnetic."
I feel like that has less to do with her fashion sense and more with her status. People see what Michiko Arasaka wears and immediately copy her. That's how trends spread.
Karl kept the thought to himself. After all, who could say? Maybe Michiko really was a fashion genius—always several steps ahead of everyone else.
To be able to unite Arasaka's American division after the Corporate War and turn it into the organization's third most powerful faction—at just seventeen, no less—Michiko Arasaka had already proven she was extraordinary. Calling her a genius wasn't an exaggeration. And maybe it was only natural for a genius to excel in more than one field.
Chatting with Maki about the upcoming meeting made time fly. Karl only noticed they were close when the car began to slow—he had arrived in North Oak.
Since this meeting with her long-estranged daughter was a personal matter, Michiko wouldn't be hosting it in Arasaka Tower. And considering that she didn't often stay in Night City, the only place that could be called "home," or used to receive guests, was likely her daughter's residence.
As the Herrera Outlaw cruised through North Oak, Karl felt the buzz of surveillance in the air—even before they reached Hanako's estate. Three or four drones flew overhead, scanning them in waves. On either side of the road, he spotted at least fifty Arasaka guards in uniform.
Judging from their gear, movements, and cyberware, each one of them looked highly trained and capable.
We're not even at the villa yet, and the security's already this tight?
Karl quickly estimated the threat level. Each of those Arasaka soldiers could probably delay him for at least a moment. If all fifty attacked at once, taking them down before reinforcements arrived would be close to impossible.
And this was just the outer perimeter. Karl couldn't help but wonder—was the villa more heavily fortified than Arasaka Tower itself?
Then again, it made sense. After all, the only two remaining Arasaka family members in the Americas were currently inside that North Oak estate. If the security wasn't tight, now that would be suspicious.
Arasaka's American forces had already tasted what it meant to be leaderless. After Kei Arasaka died, the entire division nearly collapsed. If it hadn't been for Michiko stepping up and uniting them, Arasaka's influence in the region could've been wiped out or torn apart in the aftermath of the Corporate War.
That painful history had taught them to stay cautious—and to double down on security.
As the car approached the gates of the estate, a figure stepped out and motioned for them to stop for inspection.
Karl looked at the man through the windshield, and his expression shifted into something… complicated.
Kenichiro-san... how'd you end up stuck working gate duty?
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