"Hey, pretty lady, nice to meet ya, yoroshiku!"
Li Pan forwarded his company's acting manager e-card.
But the Steel Queen ignored him—too busy, probably. At least she didn't block him outright.
So, after the street fight outside ended, and the cleaning bots dragged away corpses, Li Pan followed Orange into the bar.
It was still early, few people around. No Good Death wasn't a dance club—it was a quiet bar for jobs and deals.
Orange quickly found her fixer contact, then linked up with a cyberdoc to arrange the spinal implant. Since the spine was sensitive goods, the doc was cautious, didn't want his license revoked. As just a "bodyguard outsider," Li Pan had no right to join, so he sat at the bar for a drink.
But that "cyberpsycho spine from the Central District massacre"? That had to be the one he himself sold from the Demon King Project! Maybe even Akiyama's butt-spine!
Sure, secondhand implants risk rejection, dollification, and psychosis spikes. But Li Pan understood Orange's choice.
She had guts and connections—few dared strip corpses, fewer still mingled freely with cyberpunks.
But she stuck with NCHC volunteer medic work, clinging to a proper job, so her son could someday slip legally into the system.
And following rules meant even painful normal life could no longer be hers.
So: adapt, or die.
"Sir, your coffee."
Li Pan had been looking for plain water on the menu when the bartender handed him a coffee.
Coffee, at this hour?
Perplexed, he glanced around. A private booth—someone was staring at him.
A South Asian girl, "Miss Three," silver-dyed hair, sharp features, dark but luminous skin. Pretty. Her dress, a plunging V, slit to the waist, flowing like a waterfall. Strong thighs on display—scissor legs that could crush. Cyber antennas on her head. A full-on Shibuya-cyber vibe.
And then, from his private comms, a photo: him, at the bar, eyes shining, licking his lips. Sent by none other than the Queen of Yakshas herself.
Wait, what? The Steel Queen wanted to meet him?
He shrugged, drained the coffee, and entered.
"I don't have five digits in my account, Your Majesty."
Of course, this woman wasn't her true body.
He'd researched her after Orange hyped her up. Cross-checking official and deepnet whispers, he reached the same conclusion:
She was the real deal.
The Queen was Europan—Jovian moon-born, descendants of space colonists. Her nickname "Vajira the Diamond" came from Takamagahara's South Asian puppet forces—during the Company War, she commanded Europan special forces, codename Yaksha, parachuted to Earth to cripple Takamagahara's third starship factory.
Her unit fought through mountains, jungles, tundra—guerilla, assassination, ambush—smashing forces hundreds of times their size until war's end. A war hero.
Afterward, unable to return to normal life, she and her unit joined Ye Corporation as security consultants, mercenaries, crushing Takamagahara remnants. Eventually, after comrades aged out or cashed out, she retired, opening this bar, training the next gen.
With ties to Ye's leadership, she became the undisputed Steel Queen. Her name alone carved cyberpunks a place in Night City.
Now, elderly, identity buried, she used puppeted shells. The woman before him was just one more.
Light flickered in her eyes. Clearly remote-controlled. She wasted no time:
"M Company?"
Li Pan sat close, eyes shamelessly on her thighs.
"Indeed. Acting manager."
The Queen paused.
"I got what you ordered. When's the payment?"
Huh?
Li Pan snapped alert. Did the company hire her? Was this tied to the previous wipeout?
Feigning calm, he asked:
"I'm new. Do you have the contract?"
She snapped her fingers. A merc walked in with a folder.
Inside: a contract, company letterhead. Task: raid a starship convoy, seize high-value cargo.
But—the client wasn't the company officially. It was a private signatory, burned to ash on the page. Deleted.
Date: last month, right before Li Pan joined. With a clause: if the client perished, the next general manager must settle.
Li Pan nodded.
"Yes, that's our commission. But I don't have that kind of cash now. Thirty-five million isn't small. Please give me time."
She sipped.
"I lost four brothers for that job. Six months. After that, I'll sell to another buyer."
"Deal."
This cargo surely tied to the previous company's destruction. And 35M wasn't unthinkable. After all, Huang Dahe's OS carried penalties over ten million.
And in just days, Li Pan himself had already cleared seventeen million.
That's how society worked: at the bottom, every penny is blood. Higher up, connections mint cash.
His decisiveness impressed her. She studied him.
"I don't usually deal with rookies. But if you honor this, No Good Death will always welcome you."
He smiled politely.
"An honor, Queen. But may I confirm the goods?"
She showed a vacuum container photo, perfectly matching the contract ID.
"Intercepted at your designated coordinates. Full footage. If I err, you may break the deal. My word."
So reliable? But—
"I'll still need a starship to fetch it."
Her lips curled.
"Fetch? The moment it hits Earth orbit, orbital cannons will vaporize ship and cargo.
One million. I'll rent you a smuggler's vessel, paperwork clean. Just find a pilot you trust."
Li Pan thought. He did know a starship navigator… Connections.
"Business done. Now leave. I'm busy."
Classic Queen.
He bowed out. Soon Orange returned.
"Li, surgery's set in Ghost Tower District. Can I borrow the car?"
"Of course. Be careful."
She nodded gratefully.
As newcomer, Li Pan had no trust yet. No access to black clinics. But it didn't matter. Word would spread—if you could deal directly with the Queen, fixers and mercs would come to you.
He took the metro home. And there—a figure in a polytech uniform leaving.
"Dahe?"
He called out. The boy turned.
Similar build. But more handsome. Refined, pale, almost feminine.
The youth spoke first:
"Hello, I'm Dahe's classmate, Arthur. Have you seen him lately?"
"Classmate? You know he was expelled, right? I'm looking for him too."
Arthur nodded, handing a card.
"If you see him, tell him: we'll pay his damages, hire him as consultant, grant scholarship and immigration."
Arthur Dawn. Assistant Manager, DAWN Aerospace Technologies.
Li Pan gasped.
"Dawn! You're a Spacer? A Child of Dawn?"
Indeed. A gene-forged scion. Cloned with board DNA. Artificial prodigies. Born, raised, and trained in space. No citizenship, no taxes. Company's perfect assets.
Arthur nodded.
"I'm an exchange student. I truly am Dahe's friend. I only want to help."
Li Pan met his clear emerald eyes.
"Alright. I'll tell him."
If even Dawn had moved, the situation was bigger than expected.
Dawn Aerospace—Security Committee titan, luxury starship giant. Their SMS mechs, the "Dawn Swords," once dominated the war. Pilots were Dawn Knights, one-man army legends.
No wonder. Ye's biotech were amateurs by comparison. They couldn't grasp Dahe's OS value. Dawn could.
But still no sign of Dahe. Hard to trace. Dawn had rivals everywhere—space industry was a bloodbath.
So Li Pan called Eighteen.
"Our fleet—who built it?"
"Checking… TSC Tianhan Starship Group. 'Po Jun' series."
"What the hell? That pricey? And they only pay me 2,500?!"
"Any reps local?"
"Yes, I'll send contacts."
Tianhan—the other giant. Specializing in battleships, massive fleets. Costly, ugly, but bristling with firepower. Partnered with HT ChaosTech for command systems. Combat-proven.
Their Po Jun-class were fleet warships, top-tier tech, able to breach Earth's defenses alone.
And Monster Company's hidden card? Over seventy Zhuyan-class battleships. A fleet that could sweep 0791's plane.
So, Li Pan sent Tianhan a greeting. Immediately, Ms. Lin, sales manager, answered—respectful to a "big client."
They chatted. Tianhan kept local shipyards, offered custom builds. And as always, for old customers like M Company, they could dispatch full clone-crewed fleets on demand. Plug-and-play, war-ready.
Li Pan smiled inwardly. If it came to blows, he too could summon a fleet. Enough to seize Dahe for himself.
Appointing him tech director wouldn't even count as corruption, right?
.
.
.
⚠️ 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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