Truly—overnight riches!
Li Pan hardly slept.
It wasn't just because his newly repaired apartment had once again been blasted through, this time with no company maintenance reimbursement, cold winds howling from the northwest.
But—he was rich now!
Five hundred thousand!
Sure, it was money earned by risking his life, and maybe a bit of "living off a woman's purse"…
But still—five hundred thousand!
Li Pan couldn't even settle down to cultivate. He spent the night scrolling through shopping sites, giggling to himself: I've got 500k now, what should I buy?
Pay off loans? Forget it—where would he ever find such a favorable interest-free loan again? Use the cash first, think later.
So what then? Cyberware? A sports car? A new apartment? Or maybe a feast? Real food—not nutrient paste and Hyperdreams. Yeah, book a whole banquet. Ugh, so expensive. Might as well eat wontons—500k, that's 25,000 bowls of wontons! When would he ever finish that? Maybe just go downstairs and eat now? But he was still stuffed from the academy cafeteria yesterday… maybe tomorrow.
So he hesitated the whole night, bought nothing, and eventually fell asleep on the couch. He wanted to savor that feeling of a rich man waking up from a dream.
The next morning, as soon as he opened his eyes—
"Citizen Li Pan, the tax authority has detected abnormal fluctuations in your account. A large transaction exceeding deviation values has been recorded. Under the Anti-Money Laundering Act, your account is now frozen pending audit. If you object, you may file an appeal…"
"Fuuuuuuck—!!!"
Li Pan almost had a breakdown.
"The Tax Bureau! Damn you!"
The Tax Bureau—the true sovereign across all worlds.
Tax auditors—the strongest hacker organization in the QVN. None greater.
The Bureau taxed every company and citizen within the system's reach, maintaining the Public Safety System and Scientific Ethics Council.
Even the seating order in the Supreme Security Council was ranked by tax contributions.
So yeah—you got it.
If you didn't pay taxes, whether you were a citizen or a corporate director, the Bureau had the power to kick you out of the entire system.
That meant no more connection to the QVN, no more access to the entire civilization built on it.
Some might think: So what? Just being offline, right? People can live without the net, right?
Sure, you could live. Plenty already did—bankrupt slum-dwellers, unregistered cyborgs, street gangs, sewer killers, wasteland exiles, border rebels…
If you didn't mind joining their ranks, go ahead and dodge taxes.
The Tax Bureau is watching you.
"Shit shit shit shit shit!"
Li Pan beat the sofa into submission before regaining control.
Unbelievable. He had actually forgotten about the Tax Bureau!
Well, of course—he only made 2,500 a month. Why would the Bureau bother with him?
Besides, as a soldier's orphan and reservist, he was a legitimate citizen, covered by countless hidden benefits, deductions, and rebates. The actual tax threshold for him was far above the average 20k monthly standard for wage earners.
So his measly 2.5k had never even reached the line. He had never once been audited.
But now—1.5 million passing through his account in one day? Way over his annual income. Straight into red-flag deviation alert. Of course the Bureau would come.
And once flagged, you paid.
The Bureau's rules were etched into the system's core. Even offline, they still applied.
Li Pan checked online. Luckily, this wasn't laundering. Night Corporation and Five Chariots had guaranteed it, so whether or not he appealed, the account would be unfrozen eventually.
And even frozen, loan repayments still continued. With company credit backing, he could still borrow. Only cash payments were blocked—daily life wouldn't collapse.
The only issue was how much tax.
According to the law, any gift—from private contracts, inheritance, streaming donations, even begging on the street—was taxable.
If it was a physical gift, maybe valuation would be fuzzy. But a public net transfer of cash? Don't insult the Bureau's expertise.
Gift tax was progressive. A single-day income between 100k and 10 million was taxed at 30%.
So from this 500k, the Bureau would take 300k.
Which left him 200k. Still, yay…
"Arghhhh!!!"
Li Pan wailed, kicking the sofa again.
Finally he calmed down, dragged himself out to catch the subway.
The streetlights seemed blinding. Was this the taste of poverty?
"Yo."
Li Pan looked up weakly. A figure had stepped out from a wonton stall, blocking his path.
A two-meter-tall brute, hair tied back with paracord, tank top, combat pants, work boots, biker jacket. His build was lean and powerful, not bloated muscle, body fat no higher than ten percent.
His features marked him as East Asian plateau stock. Beard, dark skin from outdoor work. Belted with a monomolecular knife and revolver, ballistic augments in both arms, a ruined left face scored by three claw-like scars, one cybernetic eye, body patched with scars and bolts—like meat scraps stitched together.
He grinned, teeth bared, greeting Li Pan.
"Yo."
The despair in Li Pan washed away in an instant. His spine tingled, hair bristling.
What the hell was this monster?
The man kept staring, still grinning.
"Yo."
"Yo your ass!"
Li Pan grabbed for his waist—Tonbokiri wasn't there. Instead, he lifted his jacket, revealing the "Black Kite."
"What, you want another round? Come on then!"
No introduction needed. Night City didn't breed monsters like this. The true beasts came from outside.
And monsters like this weren't something you just stumbled into on the street.
It was Li Pan's first time meeting someone more fallen than himself.
No—maybe he had already "met."
Like a hatchling dragon staring down an old tiger.
Threat. Violence. Excitement. His instincts roared awake.
Yes. This man was Cerberus. Likely the very one who had shot him twice. A real monster.
"You eat wontons?"
The man pointed at the stall.
"My treat."
Then he walked inside.
"Two more bowls."
Li Pan hesitated, smothering the urge to blast him, then took a bowl too.
"What, not enough shooting me twice—you want revenge for your buddy too?"
"Revenge my ass."
The man leaned on the table, eating wontons.
"My account's frozen. You too, huh? Transferring that kind of money. You're just a broke bastard."
Li Pan nearly choked. The words stabbed his heart. Even the wontons lost their taste.
"Fuck you! The Bureau flagged a deviation! Why me, not you? You're just as broke!"
"Shit! You think I'm competing for 'poorest bastard'?"
Snarling, he pulled out a data card and slapped it down.
"This is the footage of me shooting you the other night. Edited and forged. I submitted it as mission proof. That clears things between you and Cerberus. Got it?"
Li Pan frowned. "Why so slow? I already paid you."
"Bullshit!" The man glared with his cyber-eye.
"You think 500k makes Cerberus back off? Do you know what a Spider Drone costs? Split that money, it's barely scraps!
It was only 'cause your chick showed up and shoved a gun to my head. I gave Night Corp face, that's all!"
He slurped the last wontons, drained the broth, wiped his mouth.
"Anyway. My books can't stand scrutiny. If you can't fix this, I'll just finish the mission and vanish. Like I'm afraid of them?
And remember—500k. Not a cent less. Whatever the Bureau docked from me, you're covering."
Li Pan narrowed his eyes, glancing at the data card, then at the man.
"Then maybe I should just kill you. Save 500k. What do you think?"
The man sneered.
"Try it. You think Cerberus cares if I die? Another gun in my place tomorrow. If you had the balls, you wouldn't have needed your girl to save you. Let's fight now—I'm watching."
He flicked a black-money card on the table.
"Boss, keep the change. Later, punk."
Li Pan scowled but didn't shoot him in the back.
For all his strength, the man was still just one gun. When K spoke, he had folded.
But Li Pan wouldn't call on K again—not like some kept man.
The wonton boss came over, swiping the card, and muttered at Li Pan:
"Kid, your friend sat here all night—ate forty bowls. Paid me only a hundred black coins. How do I cover that?"
Li Pan was speechless. Why didn't you say it to his face? Scared of his scars?
Truth be told, maybe the bastard had splurged, blown his account, then waited here all night for him.
The boss kept nagging.
"Kid! I'm just a small business, I can't launder money! If I get fined, I'll go bankrupt! If I can't pay rent, my Ah-Zhen will have to go sell herself!"
"Fuck! What's that got to do with me? Fine, fine! Give me the dirty money, I'll handle it. Put the meal on my tab—I'll pay you next month."
"Alright, kid. I watched you grow up, fed you soup. I'll trust you this once. Just don't die on me."
"Fine, fine. I'll live long enough to pay you back."
Li Pan sighed. More debt. But the wontons here weren't bad—at least edible meat flavor. And neighbors helped each other out.
Not that he had anything with Ah-Zhen. Sure, when he used to come after basketball, she'd sneak him extra dumplings, get scolded by her dad. But now she was facing her college entrance exams. If she had to sell herself over this, that'd be tragic.
Still, windfall money never lasted. The Bureau had dragged him back to near-bankruptcy overnight. But what could he do? Even that scarred Cerberus, surviving who knows how many kills at the border, still had to bow his head.
First step: unfreeze the account.
As a legitimate employee and citizen, it was easier for Li Pan—submit the tax payment, no fuss.
So he gave up appeals, filed the form, and paid 300k. Balance left: 200,182.27.
For him, it was simple. For the Cerberus sniper, with his dirty money, no way.
To prove a "gift" wasn't laundering, you had to file a full report.
Five Chariots had done it cleanly—submitting NCPA reports of Ayako's intrusion, framing it as "burglary" and "property damage," with the principal paying compensation.
But Cerberus? They lived in the shadows. Everything illegal. If his bosses found out he'd privately settled with Li Pan, it'd be a disaster.
Honestly, K had been sloppy…
Or maybe she just hadn't thought two broke bastards transferring 500k would trigger the Bureau.
Anyway, the "gift" route was dead. With a 30% rate, to net Cerberus 500k, Li Pan would need to send 715k.
Impossible.
Just yesterday he had a million. Now he owed 15k. What the hell kind of world was this?
But fortunately, he still had his 2.5k-a-month job. Reading company policy, he thought of a way.
After all, this was capitalism. Companies ruled. Business was encouraged.
And with the hyper-consumerist economy, the wealthy had countless tricks to dodge gift and inheritance taxes. One classic: the consumption tax loophole.
Open a company, shuffle goods left and right, claim subsidies, rebates, and tax breaks, pumping out cheap junk to offset.
The Bureau knew, of course. But if they banned it, how would the poor survive? Cheap goods were necessary.
So here was the loophole.
Gift tax: 30%. Consumption tax: only 3%!
Yes—for 0791's postwar reconstruction, most consumer goods had their tax cut from 13% to 3%. That was why Night Corp dumped goods here—just shipping them in earned a 10% margin.
Monster Company did the same. Selling a monster at full tax would bankrupt them. So they hid them in warehouses instead.
So Li Pan's plan was simple. The 500k to Cerberus was already logged, already frozen. But he could change the category—from "gift" to "payment." Then it was only consumption tax—15k. Even if he had to report another 15k gift, that'd be in the lowest bracket.
At worst, it was just a manager using company storage to slip some side goods. Nothing unusual for Monster Company. The Logistics Department would rubber-stamp it.
As for Cerberus? Damn. These were blood-soaked dogs of the Council. But a man so broke he paid for wontons with dirty money—didn't he deserve a break? The Bureau would let him slide.
The Council encouraged veterans to start businesses. Better than paying their pensions forever.
So yes. For soldiers, there were loopholes. Register him a merc company under Monster Company's name—lower taxes, more protection.
In short—this wasn't evasion. This was using the rules to keep the scraps of blood-earned money.
Otherwise, the bigwigs could just raise the rate, and everything in his pocket would vanish. Then all he could do was eat a bullet—to save the welfare system one more burden.
.
.
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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