V's situation was… complicated.On one hand, she vaguely remembered being a player—hearing that Cyberpunk 2077 released a DLC, starting a new playthrough, finishing the shitty Tower ending, and then somehow waking up inside the in-game version of V who had just undergone the Relic removal procedure and was unable to use any combat cyberware.
But on the other hand, V's own memories were crystal clear. Her wealthy childhood in Charter Hill, her ambitious youth in Arasaka, the battles she fought on the streets after being fired… all of it vivid. In comparison, the "player memories" felt incomplete, dreamlike—like that world was the illusion, and this one was real.
So… who crossed into whose world?
V thought about it. Her head hurt.With her Intelligence stat at three, thinking wasn't exactly her strong suit.
Screw it. Whatever.She had suffered enough. All she wanted now was a little happiness.
Bad news: she was now as weak as a "level 5 scrub."Good news: the money she saved "in her past life" was still here.
Seeing the 20+ million eurodollars in her account, all anxiety instantly evaporated. She felt as stable as if she had maxed out both "crit chance" and "crit damage," giving Night City a small taste of inflation.
Fine—20 million wouldn't shake Night City's economy.But for a single person, she was now one of the richest dogs in town.
V decided she needed to celebrate finally living without Relic-induced torment. After all, being poor left her with only one thing—money.
But she had just taken a step when she froze.
The probability of getting shot walking down Night City streets was higher than catching a cold.
More importantly—V looked down at her exaggerated "front-mounted armor plating." Sure, Cloudtop Legends might be legendary, but she wasn't planning to change careers.
Better call a cab.
She picked up a Delamain Taxi number from a street ad and dialed.
"Welcome to Delamain Taxi Service. Hello sir or madam, what service do you require?"
"Old De, send a car. I want the Excellence Package."
"The Excellence Package costs €5,000 per use, billed daily."
"I'll start with a hundred uses."V immediately transferred €50,0000.
"Package activated. Distinguished client, may I have your name?"
"V."
"One moment, Miss V. A vehicle is en route. Estimated arrival: two minutes, twelve seconds."
As expected from a professional AI—Delamain's timing was perfect. V soon sat inside the safest ride in Night City. The Excellence Package not only activated combat mode during attacks—capable of resisting even elite corpo squads—but even if she died, the package included "From Entry to Eternity," covering body retrieval and cremation.
The finest hearse money could buy.
But V still felt unsafe.Her cyberware was locked. Her body stats tanked. She was weaker than a random street thug.
Fuck the Tower ending.And fuck Myers.That bitch definitely did it on purpose.
Troublesome? Sure.But V didn't fear trouble.
She had dug Myers out of the hellhole called Dogtown for 5,000 eddies. For a can of Bū-Bū Monkey, she could put a bullet straight into the President of NUSA.
She'd stormed Arasaka Tower—the White House was nothing.
First, restore power.Then settle every damn score.
V wasn't new to hardship. Her mental state was rock solid.
After cursing President Myers one more time, she dialed Trauma Team.
"Hello, Trauma Team. How may we assist you?"
"Sign me up for the Platinum Plan."
"Platinum is monthly only. €34,000 per month. No annual discount. Ammunition and fuel during rescue are included, but any equipment losses must be reimbursed by the client."
"Equipment losses on me. What about personnel losses?"
The operator replied sweetly, "Cyberware repairs for medical personnel are charged. Personnel themselves are not."
Ah yes.Classic Night City.
"Fine. Platinum it is. I'll pay one year up front."V transferred €408,000.
The operator returned €8,000.
"You are already a Gold member. Upgrading qualifies for a rounding discount."
I'm… already Gold?
Checking the date, she realized it was 2076, and she was still an Arasaka employee—a deputy director of Arasaka Night City Counterintelligence.
The Gold Trauma Team plan was a corp perk.Ninety percent of employees were glorified office supplies, but anyone who reached management was already no longer "human."
What was her boss's name again?Jenkins… oh right—Jenkins.
What a nostalgic name. It hadn't even been that long, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. In that "last playthrough," V crushed every major gang in Night City in mere months—Tyger Claws, Scavs, Maelstrom, all terrified of her. And that was only the appetizer.
She'd stolen Militech's Basilisk for Panam.Hijacked a Kang Tao AV to catch the real Delamain.Blown up a power station to keep herself alive.Stormed Dogtown, killed Colonel Hansen and his Phantom Dogs.Shared drinks with President Myers.
Jenkins—who once seemed so terrifying and untouchable—was now nothing more than a weed by the roadside. For 2,000 eddies she could knock him out and stuff him in a fixer's trunk. After all, saving the President of NUSA was worth only 5,000.
Ah, Night City, City of Dreams…My ass.
She remembered those sunsets during overtime—her youth burned away.
V pulled out a cigarette, biting it gently, but didn't light it.
She didn't need to.
She had never smoked before Johnny.But now… it was 2076.Johnny was gone.
V touched the empty neural socket behind her ear. It felt like touching her own hollow heart. The man who'd fought beside her, who'd lived and died with her… wasn't here.
A thick melancholy washed over her—sticky, like the feeling after finishing a good session of self-relief.
Her shoulders trembled. She wanted to cry—but instead burst out laughing.
"Hahaha—fuck you, Johnny. You annoying bastard, you're finally gone!"
She snapped her fingers."Old De. Konpeki Plaza!"
"Yes, Miss V. Choose Delamain—leave worry behind."
Night City's best taxi accelerated—smooth like the unchanging fate of the masses, fast like how quickly poor folks drop dead. Soon she arrived before the golden, towering Konpeki Plaza.
She immediately gave Delamain a five-star rating. With quiet, efficient AI drivers like this, who needed chatty, annoying human ones?
"Kochira koso irasshaimase, welcome to Konpeki Plaza, Deputy Director V."The front desk receptionist spoke flawless Tokyo-district Japanese accent, hands folded at her abdomen—humility embodied.
Not surprising she recognized V. Konpeki Plaza was Arasaka property. Of course they had employee data.
V glanced at the security cameras, then at armed guards. Instinctively, her mind produced seven or eight ways to kill them instantly.
Her Kiroshi Oracle flashed blue. The camera twitched and turned away according to protocol. The patrolling guard shifted slightly, adjusting a misaligned ballistic plate.
Nothing exploded.No brains splattered.
Her cyberware still existed—but only in basic, non-combat function.
She couldn't hack people anymore. Only… transfer money.
The receptionist suddenly gasped—she had received a €$200 tip.
"Sometimes I'm a little short-tempered," V said with a smile. "Consider this… pre-emptive compensation."
The receptionist blushed. V's looks worked on all genders.
"No, Deputy Director V. It is our job to make every guest feel at home. And you are the kindest person I've met—you wouldn't speak harshly to me even if angry."
"Then I'll take that as forgiven." V winked. "I'm off for a drink."
"Yes. Welcome again to Konpeki Plaza, Deputy Director V."
Somehow, the identical phrase sounded more sincere this time.
That was the power of money.
Money—who doesn't love it?
And every time V saw those 20 million eddies, even being tortured by the Relic wouldn't stop her from smiling.
At the bar, V raised one finger at the handsome bartender.
"One drink. The most expensive."
"The most expensive?" He scanned her with his internal implant—instantly pulling up her full profile.
"No offense," he said in a rich baritone, "but given your income level, our most expensive drink is… excessive."
"Oh?" V smirked. "How much per bottle?"
"€$1,249. Extremely rare. Konpeki Plaza only has two bottles—"
"I'll take both."
"…What?"
Her Kiroshi flashed. She sent €$2,500.
"The extra two eddies are your tip."
The bartender stiffened. "…My apologies. I misjudged you."
He returned moments later with two beautifully packaged bottles.
"Shall I open one?"
V picked up a bottle, held it to the light, and confirmed again:
"This bottle costs €$1,249?"
"Yes," he replied respectfully. "Kami No Sake: Kotodama. A nanomachine-based cocktail with glowing neural fibers suspended inside. It's said that drinking it connects your consciousness to Arasaka's executive encrypted network—for approximately 180 seconds while intoxicated."
"Heh. Interesting drink. But I don't like the name. Kami. That place and I don't get along."
V let go.
The bottle shattered dramatically on the marble floor.
The bartender's neural processor nearly overheated.
V stepped on the shards, waving the air to savor the scent."Mmm. Yes. This is the best way to enjoy Kami."
The bartender stared like she was a cyberpsycho.
But V knew—she was perfectly sane. Probably.
Her eyes fell on the second bottle, and the bartender instinctively hugged it like a child.
"P-please don't smash this one!"
V wasn't planning to. Even if she was a quarter of the NUSA President, money was still money. Clean or dirty, fragrant or foul—money itself was never wrong. People were.
"Open it."
The bartender nearly cried with relief. "Yes, I'll serve it immediately."
"No need." V waved her hand. "It's for you all. Drink it."
"…You're… treating us?"
"Yes."
"With this?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that wasteful?"
"As long as it's drunk, it's not wasted."
The bartender hesitated. V asked:
"You've served thousands of drinks working here. Ever tasted one?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Why? Don't like alcohol?"
His handsome face flushed red. "I… can't afford it."
V pointed at the bottle. "Well, here's your chance."
He looked at the drink, then at her. She nodded. He finally poured a small glass.
"Thank you. Truly."He raised it. "To your health."
He drank. His eyes glimmered.
"So?" V asked.
"It's… incredible. I've never tasted anything like it. It's like… like I became human again."
"Oh? You think you weren't human before?"
The bartender gave a bitter smile. "Whether I'm human or not… isn't for me to decide."
"Good answer."
He shared the drink with the staff—the receptionist, cleaners, guards, servers.
Not much. Just a sip each.
But gratitude flowed freely. Maybe because it was the first time someone treated them like equals. The first time someone treated them like… humans.
"Um…" the bartender said. "To thank you, we'd like to buy you a drink."
V snorted. "With your wages? You can't afford a glass here."
"If we pool together… as long as you don't pick something too expensive…"
V rolled her eyes. "Pretending to be rich only to sleep on the streets next month. Brilliant."
He trembled—but insisted, "It's… our sincerity."
"Fine. Hard-headed fools deserve no mercy. I'll order."
V had never been soft-hearted. Never.
"Bring me the menu."
The bartender handed it over, terrified. V scanned it and said three words:
"Bū-Bū Monkey."
"…You're not ordering a drink?"
"Nope."
"To save us money?"
"Hah. Don't flatter yourselves."V laughed and glanced at the empty seat beside her."It's just that the idiot who used to drink with me… is dead."
The bartender poured the Bū-Bū Monkey with ceremonial seriousness—like pouring divine ambrosia.
The greatness of a divine drink wasn't in the drink.It was in the god.
Just like the value wasn't in Bū-Bū Monkey.It was in who was drinking it.
"May I ask… why did you treat us tonight?" the bartender asked.
V replied, "I had a dream. In it, I killed a lot of people in Konpeki Plaza."
"…It was just a dream."
"Maybe." V smiled and finished the cheap drink in one gulp.
She left Konpeki Plaza and returned to her Delamain cab.
"Choose Delamain—leave worry behind. Welcome back, Miss V. Please enter destination."
"You pick, Old De. Just drive around. Bū-Bū Monkey is still sweet as ever. Need something to wash it down."
"Understood. Based on your mood, selecting destination: The Afterlife."