Crack.

The shattering of bone echoed through the room just as Matsudaira’s bodyguard reacted. Realizing his employer was done for, he immediately activated his Sandevistan—not to fight back, but simply to speed up his reflexes enough to make the right move.

In the slowed-down timefield, under the gaze of Karl, Chiyome, and Kenichiro, the bodyguard calmly dropped the gun he had just started to raise, lifted his hands into the air, and showed everyone he meant no harm.

Sure, the pay was good—500,000 eddies minimum—but it wasn’t worth getting his whole family wiped out over a dead man.

Everyone here was Arasaka. His boss had been Arasaka. His family was under Arasaka’s thumb. If the top brass had decided Matsudaira needed to die, then what the hell was he supposed to do?

Draw a gun and try to kill Hanako Arasaka herself, right here in front of dozens of Arasaka agents?

He’d be lucky if only his bloodline was erased.

Sorry, Matsudaira-san. Guess I’m turning in my resignation early this month. Hope you understand.

The professional guard kicked his pistol away, laced his hands behind his head, and squatted down with practiced ease. Definitely not his first time doing this—textbook surrender from a true pro.

This “tiny action” barely even registered. Once the three of Hanako’s guardians confirmed he wasn’t going to be a problem, their eyes moved elsewhere.

The other eight bodyguards, posted behind the other executives and board members, knew better than to get involved. They raised their hands in sync, open-palmed, performing what could only be described as the classic “French military salute.”

Protecting your client was one thing—but only if the threat wasn’t a member of the Arasaka family.

No one was dumb enough to move against that.

Craaaack—

The final, brutal sound of Matsudaira’s skull caving in landed like a shockwave in the ears of the Arasaka board.

Their reactions were… something.

It had all happened too fast—too decisively. Before anyone could even process it, Matsudaira, one of the most powerful men in the Americas branch, was lying dead, skull broken like a ceramic bowl.

They needed a moment just to understand.

Gulp.

Someone swallowed—maybe multiple people. It sounded deafening in the suffocating silence.

After a few seconds, the elder vice president—perhaps thanks to age and experience—recovered first. He didn’t stand. He didn’t flinch. He stared at the corpse, and in a voice that trembled only slightly, asked Kenichiro:

“…Are you saying Matsudaira-san was the traitor?”

He didn’t dare ask Hanako directly. He wasn’t suicidal. Instead, he turned to Kenichiro—who, technically, held a lower position.

“Correct,” Kenichiro said. “So there’s no need for you to worry.”

His gaze swept across the room, giving silent orders to the security teams and netrunners to stand down. Then he looked back at the elder VP, his expression calm and unreadable.

“Your loyalty is unquestioned. Just like your grandson’s.”

“…Heheheh.”

The old VP gave a nervous laugh—one that lacked any warmth. Being reminded of his grandson in this moment didn’t reassure him.

What could he say?

Nothing. He couldn’t say a damn thing.

Because to the Arasaka family, even a Vice President—hell, even a regional head—was just a dog.

A loyal dog would be rewarded. But if that dog ever bared its fangs at its master—well, that dog didn’t need to exist anymore.

The elder VP had once served under Saburo Arasaka. He had clawed his way up to this position, second only to the home office. He had placed his family members across the company, building a quiet dynasty.

He wasn’t interested in baring fangs anymore.

So when the master growled, he did what all good old dogs do—bowed his head and wagged his tail.

Karl heard a private message come through from Kenichiro.

“Don’t underestimate that old dog. He looks nervous, but trust me—he understands better than anyone why Matsudaira had to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“They were both VPs. This one was older. More senior. You think he ever respected how arrogant Matsudaira was? You think someone at his level didn’t know what his peer was up to? The evidence was airtight. Take a guess who helped make sure it was airtight. Acting clueless and loyal is just strategy.”

“…Understood. Thanks for the lesson.”

Karl released Matsudaira’s skull, letting the corpse fall to the table with a messy splatter of blood. Then he silently stepped back behind Kenichiro, as if nothing had happened.

But everyone in that room now saw him in a very different light.

Whether they had known Karl’s name before or not, the man who had just crushed a Vice President’s skull on Hanako Arasaka’s word would be remembered.

Soon, every high-level exec would know there was a bodyguard in Night City who could act with the same efficiency as Chiyome and Kenichiro.

The logic wasn’t hard to follow.

This man clearly worked for Hanako. So why had she ordered him to kill Matsudaira?

Because Chiyome had to guard Hanako.

Because Kenichiro, as a senior exec, couldn’t be seen killing another VP in public.

So it had to be the hired gun.

Which meant—Hanako believed this man could be trusted to get the job done. That, in her eyes, he was on the same level.

Even if he wasn’t as strong, he was clearly strong enough.

A few of the more self-aware department directors—the ones who knew they were too low on the food chain to survive power games—were already taking mental notes.

That mercenary… if he wasn’t a permanent fixture, maybe they could hire him too. He was definitely more reliable than their own useless bodyguards.

As those thoughts settled in, sparks suddenly burst from the neck ports of two netrunners sitting near the table.

Alarms blared.

“Unauthorized access detected on floors 44, 45, 46… and 77, 78, 79. Security sweep initiated.”

Glass walls around the room darkened. Black shutters dropped, cutting off the lights from outside. Red emergency lighting illuminated the conference floor.

“Hostile breach detected on floor 132. All security personnel to defensive positions.”

Kenichiro spoke calmly.

“Old dogs still have teeth. As expected from someone in Matsudaira’s position—he still had some diehard loyalists.”

He turned to Karl.

“Time for you to work.”

“With pleasure.”

Karl grinned in the crimson light. Hanako gave a faint nod, and he turned, heading down the stairs.

“Want me to leave a few alive for questioning?”

Hanako responded without hesitation.

“The rat behind it all is gone. The small mice don’t matter.”

“Got it.”

So—no survivors.

As Karl descended the stairs, a pair of inhuman eyes met his for the briefest second.

And in that instant, Karl knew—

Someone down there was even more eager than he was.

.

.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep