"Gomen nasai!!"
"Again with that…"
Li Pan sipped sake, chin propped on one hand, eyeing the spread of seafood sashimi before him. Across from him knelt Saitō Keiko, now dressed in a yukata, bowing low on the tatami, breasts half exposed as she pressed her head to the floor in a dogeza apology.
"Madam Saitō, tell me—do you want money, or do you want your life?"
"Gomen nasai!!"
She practically shouted into the floorboards, sincerity dripping from every word.
Li Pan studied the inn mistress bound in that thin layer of cloth, took another drink, and said,
"Me? I just want money. What would I do with your life?
Guess, Madam—how much did Gosha pay to ransom your dear old classmate?"
Keiko dared not answer, dared not raise her head.
So Li Pan answered himself:
"Six million. That's the price of a jōnin's life. Six million. Tsk tsk. And what about your worth, Madam?"
"Gomen nasai!!"
"Alright, enough 'gomen's already."
He waved impatiently, knocking his sake saucer onto the table.
Keiko scrambled forward to refill his cup, then moved back to kneel—only for Li Pan to seize her hand and pull her to sit beside him.
"Look, Madam, I'm not unreasonable. This really wasn't your fault. No need to grovel so hard."
"Yes… as you say…" she murmured, pressing closer, her head sliding onto his lap. "It was all that wretch Kiri who ruined your pleasure. Please, allow me a chance to make it right…"
Li Pan raised his saucer, cutting her off.
"But still—this incident happened on your watch. Your house failed to protect its guest. So—just compensate me a million for emotional damages, and I'll consider it forgotten."
Keiko nearly burst into tears.
"One million? Li-sama, isn't that… a bit much…"
Li Pan frowned.
"What kind of talk is that? A million is just one month's salary for a mid-level manager at our company. Or… are you saying Saitōya is too broke to afford it? Should I pay for this dinner myself, too?"
"N-no! That's not what I meant! But—"
"Listen, Madam. I'm being fair. Don't refuse a toast only to drink punishment instead."
She tried to bargain further, but he pinched her face and poured sake down her throat.
Keiko swallowed, tongue darting, then shot him a sultry glance and pulled a card from her chest—(seriously, where do they keep hiding those?).
"Here… ten thousand in virtual currency. I'll make up the rest on your next visit. Please, forgive me this once."
With her nestled in his arms, breath warm at his ear, Li Pan once again gave in to cliché.
"Oh? That little, huh… fine. In installments then, since you beg so sweetly."
"Arigatō! Li-sama, please, put in a kind word for me at your company!"
And so—ten thousand black credits transferred, the misunderstanding was "resolved."
Li Pan, in good spirits, let the mistress serve him dinner. At last, the robot maid wheeled out the final "dish."
It was… a bed? No—a slab of black synthetic rubber, inside which Shiranui Kiri was vacuum-sealed like a specimen. Every curve outlined, only her mouth exposed with a stainless-steel gag locking her jaw, ensuring she couldn't bite her tongue or kill herself. Drool leaked as she gasped desperately through the opening, tongue twitching with each ragged breath.
Li Pan's eyes went wide. "What the hell kind of play is this?"
Keiko's gaze was venomous, fixed on the kunoichi who'd nearly cost her a million and her reputation with an old friend.
"Do not underestimate this slut. She mastered Kōga-style ninjutsu—Utsusemi, Water Clone. She could infiltrate, escape every trap, always slip away unharmed. That's how she became a jōnin.
She once told me, drunk, that she trains in Shiranui secret Water Style. As long as there is a river or stream, she can cast it. Even with human fluids—blood, sweat—she could use them to escape. That's why I sealed her like this, to deny any liquid contact, no chance to activate her jutsu."
Li Pan blinked. So even body fluids count? Damn, no wonder she almost escaped earlier. Makes sense. That's how she survived so many failures… and mastered the Yoshiwara Forty-Eight Arts too. Jōnin really aren't to be underestimated.
Keiko noticed his dazed look, smiled faintly, and whispered in his ear:
"Since she must be returned to Gosha anyway… allow me to vent my hatred first. Just watch. I won't kill her."
"Oh, uh… you go ahead. I mean—do as you like…"
So the mistress used the kunoichi to demonstrate the Yoshiwara Forty-Eight Arts. Li Pan studied, practiced, debated techniques, until dawn finally came.
Then, as his eyes closed and opened again, he found himself dreaming.
This time, not the Ascendant Monastery. He stood among towering cedars, trunks wide enough for three men to encircle. No sunlight, no wind. Silence absolute.
Looking down, he saw himself in a suit, hands wrapped in white cloth gloves, face fully covered in white fabric—yet his senses sharper than ever.
Wrapped up again… like being trained into submission. But not unpleasant.
Still—a dream? Or another crossing?
He focused—and suddenly, like sonar, his awareness pinged outward. A blip. A target.
He flashed through the forest, perching atop a treetop. Ahead lay a cave, rope charms strung at its mouth, torches burning.
Ten kunoichi stood chanting, fingers weaving seals: Rin, Pyo, Tō, Sha, Kai, Jin, Retsu, Zai, Zen.
Their uniforms were the classic dramatized kind—mesh body stocking, cropped night garb.
Nine formed the outer ring. At the center, a ponytailed kunoichi stripped bare as her subordinates painted her body with inked charms.
Li Pan squinted. Wait—that's Shiranui Kiri?
But younger—barely high-school age. Body already developed, but not yet as exaggerated as now.
So—this was her memory?
When her body was fully inscribed, the ritual complete, she stepped into the cave.
And vanished.
Not into darkness—literally vanished.
Li Pan could see: only a shrine altar inside. No tunnels. Yet Kiri disappeared.
Dreamers can't vanish, can they? Did she wake? What about him?
Perplexed, he approached the entrance—
Suddenly—screams. Shrill, hideous, rising behind him.
The nine kunoichi shrieked, faces twisting under their masks. Then—tearing. They gouged their own eyes, ripped off their faces, yanked out tongues and throats, until all nine lay dead.
"…What the actual—"
Some cult? A ritual mass suicide?
Li Pan shook his head and stepped through the rope.
One stride—and he emerged from the cave again. But the forest was subtly different—cedars smaller, no altar, no corpses.
Extending his senses, he located Kiri—darting through treetops, eyes closed, body covered in sigils, eyelids marked with seals.
She moved confidently, like she'd walked this nightmare countless times.
Gunfire cracked ahead.
Li Pan blurred past her, arriving first.
A village of elves—pale skin, blond hair, blue eyes, pointed ears—was under massacre. Samurai in armor, ashigaru footsoldiers, even mechs, machine guns, grenades.
Elves slaughtered by fire and steel.
Li Pan understood: a historical playback.
Yes—this was history of Earth-0791.
Long ago, Earth-0 developed QVN consciousness transfer, colonizing the multiverse by possessing native vessels. Then came the AI rebellion, Earth-0 weakened, fractured. The old world government was replaced by the Ethics Committee of the Pan-Cosmic Corporations. The remnants became today's terrorist "Legion."
It was then that an Earth-0 cruiser captain discovered this parallel Earth. He chose a petty landlord—the ancestor of the Oda clan—as his vessel. With borrowed Earth-0 tech, he hunted Legion remnants while unifying the world, founding Takamagahara Corporation, registering Earth-0791 into the multiversal trade network.
And the elves? They were "Legion remnants"—bioengineered long-lived bioroids with beauty and intelligence, once perfect vessels for colonization. Deemed illegal, exterminated.
The Pest Control Unit of the frontier—tasked with exterminating such "pests."
So the elves were slaughtered—burned, raped, gunned down, ears severed as trophies, corpses left for wolves.
Only then did Shiranui Kiri move.
Eyes sealed, she slipped into the ruined shrine, leapt into a dry well, and emerged holding a filthy red earthenware jar.
Black waves painted around it—like Saitō's crest, except the foam was not water drops but eyeballs.
Revolting at first glance.
She carried it to a pit of elf corpses, knelt, and chanted.
Her tongue beat against her palate, producing eerie syllables:
"Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!"
The corpses stirred. Eyes sucked inward, leaving bloody sockets. Bellies swelled, burst, and black slime oozed forth—gelatinous protoplasm reeking of rot, sprouting random eyeballs that formed and melted in its sludge.
The blobs crawled together, surging into the jar.
The chant thundered, a deafening chorus:
"Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!"
Kiri screamed, opened her mouth wide, lifted the jar, and poured the slime onto herself in baptism.
Li Pan slammed his hand down, stopping it.
Kiri's eyes snapped open, locking on him—his suited, white-shrouded form reflected in her pupils.
Before she could kill herself, he drew a smile across his face with his thumb.
"Time to wake up."
She gasped, convulsing—
And Li Pan awoke in the hot spring suite.
Saitō Keiko slept beside him, exhausted.
Across the room, Kiri writhed inside her rubber prison, shuddering as if shocked awake from the nightmare. Her heart pounded violently.
Then Li Pan smelled it—rot.
On the floor, a lump of slime the size of a teacup crawled like a slug toward the door.
From the traces, some had come from Kiri's mouth, some from the old wound in Li Pan's chest.
When it noticed him, the blob froze, pretending to be vomit.
At that moment, Li Pan's implant flickered back online—network restored.
"Cleaning drone!"
Whirring, a disk-shaped robot zipped out, vacuum-sealing the slime into a bag.
Li Pan grabbed the bag, stuffed it into a vase, and sealed it.
Good. Monster contained. Time for more sleep.
.
.
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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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