Truth Holds Even in Cyberpunk
“I’m… I’m home…”
Amon slunk inside, mumbling sheepishly. The house felt dark and barren after just a week away. It had been so bright and cozy when he left. But with the curtains drawn and the lights off, it was dungeon-dark even in the morning. He fumbled for the light switch. Click. The room lit up. The physical brightness had increased, sure. But somehow, the place still felt dim. Was it the blackout curtains working too well, or was it this damn city? Amon’s musing didn’t last long. As soon as someone shuffled out from the bedroom, he realized the true source of the gloom.
Ah.
Sonia staggered toward him, her straight hair hanging limply over her face. Honestly, it was Amon’s fault. He’d said it’d be a day trip, but here he was coming back after a full week. Sure, he’d texted about staying out, gotten permission, and it was for saving lives—unavoidable stuff. But that didn’t erase the hurt feelings.
“S-Sonia?”
Her expression was hidden behind her hair as she drew closer. Amon stood frozen at the entryway, neither fleeing nor approaching, just waiting. Finally, she was right in front of him. She flung her limp arms wide open.
“?”
Amon tried to decipher the gesture. Then came her petulant whine.
“What’re you doing?”
“Huh?”
“Hug me.”
She looked up. Sleepy eyes, pouting lips. Only then did Amon get it.
“Were you sleeping?”
Nod, nod.
“There’s nothing to do at home without you.”
“So you’ve been like this the whole time I was gone?”
“Yeah. The internet’s no fun without you.”
“Haha…”
Amon let out a dry chuckle, eyeing her in her pajamas. Her drowsy gaze stared back fuzzily.
“Not gonna hug me?”
Instead of answering, Amon gestured to his clothes. Still in the explorer set from a week ago. He’d borrowed hospital scrubs to wash up, but hugging her like this? Covered in blood and grime? No way.
“Couldn’t shower properly at the hospital. Mind if I rinse off first?”
She pressed her nose to his shirt and sniffed. The sour rag stench hit her hard.
“Eugh.”
Even for a long-lost lover, no amount of love could mask that stink. Amon gave a wry smile and pulled away.
“I’ll be quick.”
By the time Amon emerged from the shower, changed and fresh, Sonia was curled up on the couch. She bolted straight to him, burying her nose in his chest.
Sniff, sniff. Passed inspection. She wrapped him in a tight embrace.
“Missed you so much…”
Amon just patted her silently. Only after she’d gotten her fill of his scent did he ask what he’d been dying to.
“You’re not mad?”
“Me?”
She snorted a laugh.
“For staying out a week?”
Nod.
“Why would I be mad? It’s not like you cheated. You were saving lives.”
She looped her arms around his neck. Her eyes fluttered shut. Mwah. Their noses brushed close, then parted. Her golden pupils brimmed with the lover she’d craved. Feeling better, Sonia flashed a bright smile.
“Did I seem like some petty girl who’d get mad over that?”
Amon shook his head, his hand stroking her hair. She didn’t resist, nuzzling into it like a puppy. As he savored her soft cheeks and locks, he murmured,
“So I’m forgiven?”
“Nah. Forgiveness is separate.”
“Then how do I earn it?”
Her smile deepened slyly. The arms around his neck tightened just a bit. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her cheek to his. As his lips curved up at the puffy, air-filled cushion of her face, she whined playfully,
“Make up for every second you were gone.”
Amon pulled her in tight.
“Gladly.”
Amon didn’t escape the house for another week. Sonia wouldn’t let him go until he’d made up for every day he’d been away. Watching TV, eating, surfing the net—she clung to him like he was her favorite stuffed toy. Perched on his lap, head in his lap, leaning on his shoulder. She wouldn’t let go.
Of course, she had college, so it wasn’t 24/7. But she threatened to blow up if he wasn’t home when she got back, so outings were off-limits except grocery runs. She even demanded to sleep together as “compensation.”
They lived under one roof but hadn’t shared a blanket before. Amon balked visibly at her request.
“Won’t the bed be too small?”
“Just hold me while we sleep.”
He flushed, trying to refuse. “N-No… that’s…”
“Don’t you want to?”
Cheat code activated. Inevitably, Amon fell asleep with Sonia in his arms that night. His pounding heart kept him up the first night. But humans adapt, and by day two he was out cold. Now it was routine, sharing the covers like it was nothing.
A week later, Amon finally resumed merc work.
“Heh heh heh.”
Heading to the explorer guild, laughter bubbled up unbidden. New gear got the heart racing, no matter the world or age.
They’re all dead meat.
Itching to test his triple jump, he skipped along to the guild. En route, he called someone on his phone.
“Hey, Kashi. How’ve you been?”
His friend—okay, former foe turned junior/disciple/party member. They’d teamed up early in his merc days. She’d been his ally then, but they’d split so he could scout a dungeon first and teach her the ropes for her spec-up.
Supposed to be a few days, but scavengers dragged it to a week, then Sonia another.
He’d told her to do her own thing, but hadn’t kept in touch much. Luckily, she’d thrived solo.
“Oh, good to hear. Guess the broker boss looked out for you.”
Her cheerful voice crackled through.
“Sorry. I only did one run myself. I’ll do a couple more, then take you. Two days tops.”
“Nah, that was a freak case.”
“Huh? Wasn’t on the news.”
In this rotten world, scavengers jacking an explorer’s organs wasn’t news unless the vic was a superstar. Gang murders, crashes, industrial accidents—daily noise. Amon’s scrape was rare but not headline-worthy.
But Kashi meant gossip, not news.
“Loaded? Nah, I’m broke as—oh.”
Right. Calling D4C to the dungeon entrance. VIP treatment normies couldn’t dream of. Not news, but prime guild gossip.
“Ugh, seriously.”
He’d panicked, summoned top medical without thinking. No fallout considered.
“They won’t come after me, right?”
Day-labor mercs would envy his “wealth.” But per Kashi, no.
Merc unwritten rule: steer clear of ex-corpo types. Kashi was collateral.
“S-Sorry…”
“Got it. Few more runs, then you’re in.”
Amon hung up, already at the guild entrance. Clap! He smacked his cheeks and pushed through the door.
Second scout run!
With iron resolve for success, he stepped inside.
Amon wove through stares to the counter. The friendly clerk from last time helped scout a party. But—
“Sorry, kid. We’re not on your level.”
Most turned him down. “Levels don’t match,” they said. Real reason?
Don’t wanna tangle with a retired corpo ninja.
Clean retirement? Sure. But “ninja retirement” usually meant dirty. Risky—corpo hit squads might drag you in. Desperate deep-dive parties didn’t need him anyway; they wanted entry runs.
No dice. Go solo? Tempting, but suicide. Swordsmen can’t cover snipers or mages; one guy can’t handle everything. Stats proved it: 99/100 solo dungeon entrants never returned. The 1%? Lucky that year, doomed next. Long-term solos? One in ten thousand.
Amon was smart, cautious. Gamer vet, but no ego. He shelved the idea, nursed a drink at the lobby bar, waiting.
A sympathetic guildie piped up. “Amon, sir. Got some positionless folks still looking. Form a party with them? I’ll ask if you’re game.”
He pondered. Rejects? Unpicked meant flaws. Could they even function? No thanks—trash parties were a hard pass. Clerk got it, dropped it.
An hour later: jackpot. Entry run only, needed agile frontliner. Amon beelined to table 13.
Solid group. Their tank got leg-digested by a slime; emergency replacement. Leader looked sleazy, but cyberpunk average. (Even’s yellow mop screamed “unreliable” too.) Nothing else odd.
“We’re newbies. Nice to work with ya.”
Amon nodded. Newbie himself. Gear was decent, though—weapons mid-tier, not the cheap crap rookies skimped on.
Not bad.
He nodded approval, joined for the dungeon. Past the entrance, one stood out: female mage, jumpy as hell. Short light/search spells, long casts—delays galore.
Mage’s unreliable AF.
Compared to vet Paul? Night and day. (Unfair, but his only other was Paul.) Pals consoled her, but no improvement.
Frustrating.
Then a past-life sage’s wisdom hit:
"If five people gather, there is bound to be at least one piece of trash."
Amon sighed inwardly. You again, Sensei?
Worlds change, truth doesn’t. Fine, whatever.
Can’t expect saints everywhere. Last party was the anomaly.
He watched the mage’s flubs warmly. But patience snapped.
“Hahaha! Bet who drops more!” Tank charging enemy lines, ignoring rear.
“Dodge yourself!” MGunner full-autoing with allies in crossfire.
“You’re rich anyway. Share with us.” Leader shorting Amon’s loot mid-fight.
And finally: “Eek, sorryyy~” Queen Bee mage.
Staring at this dream team, Amon thought,
Fuck. Sage-sensei, can’t it be just one?
This was hell.