Things didn't always go according to plan.
Ding-ling-ling—
Bunkyo Ward, Hongo, University of Tokyo Faculty/School of Law.
Class was over.
Clatter.
Wearing her uniform again for the first time in a while, Vela—now a student in the Cyberpunk world's 2075 version of the University of Tokyo—unhurriedly unplugged her personal connector from the classroom's data jack and removed the real-time recording chip from the desk slot.
Only after the balding law professor had left the room did she pack her bag and exit the classical, elegant classroom. Despite its vintage 20th-century aesthetic, the equipment was cutting-edge.
Through the adjustable polarized glass along the corridor, one could see the ever-shifting brightness of Tokyo's city skyline.
The Arasaka family's twisted and convoluted internal dynamics—what a headache.
Gazing at Tokyo's Arasaka Tower, Vela muttered inwardly, "Whatever. Don't force it. If I don't get to meet him, so be it. When the results come, we'll meet eventually."
Let things unfold naturally.
Since her official enrollment in mid-February, it had been two and a half months since Vela arrived in Tokyo. During that time, she hadn't once caught sight of Yorinobu Arasaka visiting the university.
Instead, she'd encountered the man formally recognized as the global head of Arasaka's Security Division—Shintaro Takayama, director of Tokyo HQ security and personal martial arts instructor and head of security at the Arasaka family compound.
And then there was the so-called most mysterious member of the family—Michiko Arasaka. Reclusive, rarely seen, known for her tight-knit household, only leaving the compound a few times a month.
She'd seen Shintaro Takayama a few times before.
Back when she was still an elite trainee and high-potential Arasaka executive-in-prep attending Tokyo's Arasaka Tower Academy, the old man would always PUA her every time he showed up.
Always feeding her lines like "be loyal to Saburo Arasaka," "Arasaka is your eternal home," "Arasaka will rise again," and so on.
Now that Vela had earned her internal recommendation to enroll at Tokyo University—he summoned her again, wearing the same expression of entitled expectation, acting like she should be on her knees in gratitude.
He spoke of "gratitude," "loyalty," "passing the test," "earning trust," "everything you have was given by Arasaka," and not to "disappoint Arasaka or Lord Saburo." He told her to "work hard," with dangling promises, his tone stern and rigid, ending with a warning laced in veiled threat.
After playing bad cop, in came the good cop.
Michiko Arasaka showed up.
Accompanied by her smooth-haired, side-shaved retainer, Santayu Oda.
In a seminar room within Arasaka Tower, she gathered numerous Arasaka employees currently undergoing training or assignments at Tokyo HQ—including Vela.
As one of the highest-ranking external department members newly arrived at HQ that spring, Vela was naturally seated in the front row.
After a long, droning speech, Michiko spoke to her directly—with warmth and encouragement.
Perhaps because they were both women, or because Vela had reached such a position at such a young age, Michiko even invited her to dine at the same table that evening.
At dinner, the conversation stayed light—but Michiko showed only grace and care.
Some of the topics she raised proved that she'd done her homework. She knew all about Vela's background, her orphaned youth, and even her image as a quiet, well-behaved child.
Vela mentally scoffed—but on the surface, she politely played her role to perfection.
A pleasant exchange for all.
As for whether Michiko was trying to recruit her into the "pheasant faction"—Vela wasn't sure.
After all, her own image within Arasaka was deliberately complex.
Affiliated with Night City in North America—a textbook regional power.
A multi-discipline talent, she also had financial ties to Michiko's private enterprise, Danger Gal, through mutual economic interests.
In terms of personal ideology, she was unmistakably a hardline hawk—her stance aligned with Yorinobu Arasaka's aggressive, militant style after rejoining the family. A combat faction loyalist, she specialized in field ops, security suppression, public order maintenance, and military contracting. Personally formidable in combat, even Militech had suffered losses at her hands more than once.
Damn it, the Arasaka family was such a mess. The immortal old man behind the curtain dreaming of eternal life, and the three surviving direct-line Arasakas: Yorinobu the hawk, Michiko the dove, Hanako the pheasant...
It was like they were raising poisons to see who survived.
"Greetings, beautiful Miss Vela Adelheid."
A sudden greeting pulled Vela out of her post-class musings.
Tch...
Here we go again.
A student with slicked-back hair, decent-looking face, average build—clearly thinking himself suave—straightened his uniform like a peacocking bird and smiled toothily.
Vela could smell his type a mile away.
Ah, must be spring.
Ugh. Welcome to Japan, where one must now endure... the legendary high school—no, university romance life.
It wasn't the first time.
These guys must've gotten bored of the usual submissive Japanese types and wanted to try something spicier?
Vela very much wanted to blow his head off—but she couldn't. In the cyberpunk world, anyone who could get into a top-tier university, regardless of merit or whether they were a rich brat, either had money or powerful parents.
"Stop. Don't say it. I know. But I refuse. You're a good guy. Goodbye."
Not interested in pointless drama, she handed him a standard "good guy card" and walked right past.
Sure, maximizing her interests might mean engaging with these people, but her past life had left her nauseated by this kind of crap.
No. Absolutely not.
Waving over her two-month-old "plastic besties" to serve as a human shield, Vela briskly left the law building.
Evening classes just let out—the perfect time for well-dressed predators to start prowling.
"Good evening."
"Good evening."
Young masters and debutantes greeted her with various levels of pretension, from flirtatious to forced elegance. If that rock boy Johnny who blew up Arasaka Tower in Night City saw this, he'd probably curse a hundred vulgarities without repeating himself.
Such a stark contrast to Night City.
Even in Arasaka Academy or other elite schools, Night City was a garbage heap. Everyone was inevitably influenced by it. Greetings were like, "Fuck off." Casual conversations involved threats to slaughter your ancestors.
"Vela, your study progress… is insane."
"Unlike you guys, I didn't get in through exams. I'm here via Arasaka's internal recommendation for accelerated development. Efficiency is everything. I've got subordinates and a department waiting back in Night City. At most, I've got a year to finish before returning to resume duty."
"No wonder you don't entertain their little dating games. So this is what a true genius looks like."
"Hey, Vela, is Night City really as dangerous as the rumors say? Like, gang shootouts in broad daylight, and the TV reporting daily accidental death counts like it's the lottery?"
"Pretty much. Constant gang violence, nonstop. That place is littered with military-grade contraband. As for the death lottery—I've won it once."
"What?!"
Walking along the cobblestone paths through the neat, historically rich campus, Vela chatted idly with her plastic friends. Whether they were genuine, acting, or had ulterior motives, she didn't care.
Fine. I'll play along.
At the school gate, they parted ways.
"Vela, your elective is in biotech... uh, virology? You're applying to go to Africa for the summer research trip? What's even there to see or do?"
"I'm not going to play. I've got some ideas."
...
They parted.
Vela gave a light wave to her classmates as she said goodbye, then boarded the standard-issue Rayfield Excalibur hovercar waiting at the landing pad—her official transport from Tokyo HQ.
Vrrrm... Vrrrm...
The hovercar soared toward Arasaka Tower, located in Arasaka Corporate Plaza.
Down on campus, in a shadowed corner, one of the girls who had just spoken with Vela retracted her gaze. In the darkness, her cybernetic eye flickered orange-red.
"Target has returned. No unusual activity today. Major: Law. Minor: Biology."
"Her goals are clear—complete her studies and return to Night City to rise to an even higher position. She's ambitious. Completely dismissive of campus romance. Though outwardly polite and refined, graceful even in her speech and etiquette, beneath that faint smile lies a deep and subtle indifference. Easy to greet, hard to truly connect with."
"My evaluation of her? A genius. I don't know if she's noticed me. Even with a data jack assist, I've never seen someone with such high study efficiency... She might actually break the record for the fastest graduation among Arasaka's internal recruits."
Entering via internal corporate nominations was completely different from standard academic admissions.
The former were usually top-tier talents who clawed their way through fierce competition within megacorps—possessing strong learning and execution abilities, often with field experience. Their study duration was shorter, the workload heavier, the standards stricter, and failure meant elimination.
The latter, meanwhile, had more wiggle room—standard exams, extensions, makeups, parental donations, or pulling strings.
Internal entrants were often more elite—and their path far more grueling.
"Today, she revealed one piece of info—she's already decided to travel to Africa for her academic research trip. It seems her biology project has taken shape. Likely tied to Lady Michiko's Danger Gal company operations."
"Continue observation? Understood."
...
Tokyo, Arasaka Company Residential District.
Vela's temporary residence.
Clunk.
The motion-sensor light flicked on as Vela stepped into the genkan of her standard Japanese single-unit home, tote bag in hand.
On the exterior console table, a long rectangular package wrapped in industrial-grade synthetic plastic awaited her.
She set down her bag and checked her messages.
Sender: Arasaka Procurement Department
Recipient: Vela Adelheid Russell
Upon reading the product receipt, Vela smiled. Under the soft, dim glow of the nightlamp at the long table, her face faded into the shadows.
"Ah… the leech has arrived."
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