Amon's Life-on-the-Line Self-Defense Begins
Amon, the faithful believer in cyberpunk, launched into the most desperate self-defense of his lifetime. He began with why he'd headed to the brothel district first, then detailed every step of infiltrating the building.
"I had to crossdress for this and that... but I needed to get close to the chairman's son, you know?"
"N-No way... you didn't... with your body...!"
There was a minor hiccup where Sonia fretted over Amon's purity during the explanation, but the misunderstandings cleared up without much fuss.
Even in cyberpunk, some things are just not okay.
Amon was the owner of perfectly ordinary sexual tastes. He had zero intention of doing anything intimate with a guy. No matter the greater good—never, he swore to Mother Goddess, absolutely never.
After Amon's frantic defense, Sonia managed to dispel all sorts of misconceptions—about his infidelity, his chastity, everything. Her face brightened a little once it was all sorted.
Now's the time! Amon instinctively knew this was prime deal-making territory. Right after clearing the air, when her mood had lifted just a bit—that was the golden chance to hit her with good news and cheer her up more. Riding the momentum, he told her about the spoils from this incident. They'd looted the Hickzen Group, securing rights fees so money worries were a thing of the past. The orphanage would never lack meat again. They'd swiped high-end gear from Hickzen for spec upgrades, and so on. Amon passionately preached the rosy future awaiting them.
But despite his spiel, Sonia's face didn't brighten further. If anything, she seemed pissed off for some reason. As Amon blinked in confusion, she muttered softly.
"Idiot..."
"Huh?"
"Is that what matters, you idiot!? Look at what happened to you!"
Sonia flung back the blanket, pointing at Amon's side. Fresh skin was growing over the burn scar, but it wasn't fully healed yet. Fury blazed in her eyes.
"Who cares about some stupid money! Who cares about gear! You got hurt! You almost died! And that's supposed to be fine!? I don't need this crap money!"
Amon fell silent at her words. He couldn't even mutter, But it was a big sum. If Sonia had pulled something reckless like he did, he'd feel exactly the same. Sure, in this dangerous world, you couldn't avoid risky moves entirely. But even so. No matter how harsh the world got or how values shifted, the worry for a loved one never changed.
"...Sorry."
That was all Amon could say. He had no choice but to reflect. In a way, maybe he'd been treating this reality like a game. Forgetting he had precious people by his side, viewing the world through a gamer's lens—it squeezed his heart.
"Next time..."
Next time, he wouldn't. He opened his mouth to say it, but stopped. He had to. The path he was on could never be safe. And considering the gorilla incident plus this one, nothing guaranteed his life would be smooth sailing. Amon, who valued his words deeply, couldn't promise he wouldn't do it again.
He couldn't promise Sonia safety. His lips pressed tight. Silently, he sifted through promises he could whisper to her. Then Sonia spoke first.
"I'm not saying don't do it next time."
Amon met her gaze. Then what did she want to hear? As that thought crossed his mind, Sonia looked at him with moist eyes and said,
"If you're gonna do it next time, take me with you. You said you could rely on me. So let's go together. I won't be a burden, please."
Amon couldn't help but chuckle at her words.
I was the one lacking trust, huh.
Because she was the most trustworthy person in the world, he'd confessed his love. Yet he'd tried to handle this whole mess solo from start to finish. Despite having such a reliable companion. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he nodded gently.
"Yeah. Got it."
Amon pulled Sonia into his arms. She hugged him back carefully. Naturally, their lips met. The sweetness of love put painkillers to shame.
*
In the room still tinged with a pink haze, Sonia couldn't hold back her burning curiosity any longer.
"So... how much was the rights fee?"
"This much?"
Amon fiddled with his phone and showed her the contract file. She started counting the zeros.
"One, two, three, four... six!? One hundred thousand dollars?"
Amon nodded. An annual 150,000 dollars. Money piling up in the account just from breathing. For middle-class Americans, it was upper-tier salary territory. Among kids their age, easily top 10 percent. Sure, peanuts for megacorp rights fees, but...
There's other uses for it.
There was good reason to haggle it down this far. A dream he couldn't compromise on... Amon cut the thought short and focused on Sonia. Her hand flew to her mouth at the number.
"Forget what I said about not needing it."
Amon burst into roaring laughter.
"Puhaha—ack!"
The price for forgetting his side wound and laughing was steep. Pain he'd thought settled surged from deep inside. As Amon gasped, unable to breathe, Sonia freaked out thinking he was dying. The nurse who rushed in on the nurse call eyed the foolish couple coldly, but it was no big deal.
***
After that, Sonia packed her things from the cathedral and began nursing Amon 24/7.
"Aaah~"
"Ahh~ Om nom nom."
Amon accepted the "real" pork Sonia fed him. How long had it been since real meat! Beautiful marbling, solid texture, that persistent gamey smell no amount of washing could banish! Cholesterol coursing through his veins after so long had his whole body cheering.
One perk of the deal with the Three Dollar Group. No more, no less: real pork, 100g of each cut monthly. Sure, real pork was rare in this world, but was there really reason to haggle rights fees for it? Factoring in the discount, they could've just bought it. And it wasn't just any pork.
Variety of cuts. Must include samgyeopsal.
The Vatican archbishop acting as Amon's go-between was baffled.
— "Samgyeopsal? What's that?"
When told it was belly fat, he was even more baffled.
— "The cut for bacon? We have tenderloin—why that!?"
He couldn't fathom why Amon would swap premium sirloin or tenderloin for samgyeopsal. Especially Amon's order: Absolutely no thin slicing like bacon—send it whole.
The Three Dollar Group chairman was puzzled too.
— "Wait... is this that legendary holy knight, the Korean one?"
The archbishop didn't confirm even that fragment, but he suspected the same. Anyway, the pork deal went through, and the company agreed to ship 300g of each cut monthly. Why 300?
— "It's the Three Dollar Group, after all."
The chairman insisted on the '3,' and since samgyeopsal was worthless to them anyway, the unit price worked out. They'd split shipments weekly to avoid spoilage as a bonus.
Thus, Amon swapped healthy hospital slop for vein-clogging real meat now and then. Neck this week, tenderloin next, sirloin after... Sonia watched him fondly.
"Didn't you say you couldn't eat it because of the gamey smell?"
"Nah, it's fine. Here, aaah."
"Ahh."
He shared the precious weekly treat with Sonia too. She'd learned from this incident that Amon just hated bugs in synth-meat. His fussiness struck her as cute. And so they enjoyed their weekend feast.
But Amon had regrets.
Damn, I want samgyeopsal.
It was his main goal originally, but hospital rules forbade it. Smell wasn't an issue—Sonia cooked outside, sealed it up, and his private room was fine. The real reason?
Goddamn West. Goddamn cyberpunk.
The meat was ready. But no ssamjang, garlic, ssam leaves, etc. Elements Amon had overlooked. Even starving for samgyeopsal, eating it raw was a stretch.
Gotta hit Chosun Town after discharge.
Internet said a fancy grocer there stocked ssamjang and garlic.
Insanely pricey, though.
Still, available—so he'd go. Lost in those thoughts, Amon accepted the hamburger Sonia fed him. Gazing wistfully at the samgyeopsal rotting slowly in the freezer corner, Amon survived another day in cyberpunk.