"I told you those two weren't just 'friends.' Look at them—they're holding hands now." As they walked across the deck of the Kujira, Oliver
"I told you those two weren't just 'friends.' Look at them—they're holding hands now."
As they walked across the deck of the Kujira, Oliver leaned in and whispered to Jack and V, smirking.
"Karl kept saying he and the Arasaka heiress were just friends, but I don't think that line's going to hold much longer."
"Being boyfriend and girlfriend doesn't mean you're not friends," Jack replied, keeping his voice low so Kenichiro Ken wouldn't hear.
"Keep it down—this isn't something to gossip about. Didn't you notice Ken's been watching them too? Feels risky."
"I think Karl's just being his usual clueless self," V said.
"He probably genuinely thinks this is normal friend behavior. But I've never seen him act this way around a woman.
This is the same guy who goes on a date and brings leftovers back for us—now he's holding hands? Wild."
"If they actually end up together," Oliver mused, "does that mean we're officially Arasaka's corporate lapdogs?"
"I doubt it. Worst case, we get reassigned as bodyguards for the Dangerous Girls Agency. You know—protecting the cat-eared idol squad."
Jack shrugged.
"She is one of the co-owners, after all."
"Whatever happens, happens. And if shit hits the fan, it's not our problem—at least, not first."
As the group chatted in hushed tones, they crossed the deck and entered one of the ship's crew lounges.
Inside, a man sat casually on a chair, waiting.
He wore an open jacket over a dress shirt, one hand resting on the armrest, the other adjusting his collar.
As he heard them approach, he stopped adjusting, straightened slightly, and turned to face them.
He had short, jet-black hair and sharp, defined features. His expression was stern. Thick brows, bright eyes, a straight nose, firm lips, a strong jawline—he exuded an air of quiet force, like a flame smoldering beneath the surface.
Karl's first impression:
This man might look older, but he was burning with vitality.
He reminded him of a wildfire—tense, barely contained, always ready to ignite.
Weird feeling.
Karl wasn't sure why he thought that, but he already knew who he was looking at.
There was only one person on this carrier with the authority to wait for them like this.
Arasaka Sesen.
The man had been portrayed in the media as a spoiled, rebellious heir—always clashing with his father and shirking responsibilities.
But in person, Karl found him far more charismatic than the rigid, lifeless image of Saburo Arasaka.
At least this one seemed alive.
Sesen looked like he was about to speak—then paused.
His eyes had landed on a curious sight:
His great-niece, Haruko Arasaka, was holding hands with a black-haired young man.
Hm?
Even for someone as jaded as Arasaka Sesen, it was enough to make him blink in surprise.
Hadn't heard anything about Haruko having a partner.
Could she, like her mother, have ignored the family and chosen someone on her own?
While Sesen pondered that, Karl noticed his gaze and quickly released Haruko's hand.
Escort duty, complete.
Haruko, unfazed, walked up to Sesen.
"Uncle, it's been a while."
She smiled and spread her arms.
Sesen's expression softened as he stood and returned the hug, holding her gently for a moment before pulling back to look her over.
"You've grown, Haruko. Are you settling into Night City?"
"It's been good. I think I'm actually happier here than I was in Kyoto."
"Happier than in Kyoto…"
Sesen's expression flickered with something dark, just for a second.
Then he shook his head.
"That house really was suffocating."
After a few words with Haruko, he turned his gaze to Kenichiro Ken.
"It's been a while, Director Ken."
"It has," Ken replied stiffly.
His tone wasn't unfriendly, but it was certainly not warm.
After a pause, he added formally:
"Lord Sesen."
There was a clear professional distance between the two.
But when Sesen turned to Karl, that distance changed again.
He stared at Karl, clearly trying to place him.
Then, a guess:
"KK?"
"Just call me Karl," he said politely.
When it came to his friends' elders, Karl was always respectful—same way he was with Mama Wells.
"Karl," Sesen repeated with a small nod.
"I've heard of you."
He paused, glanced briefly at Haruko, then looked back at Karl with a more serious tone.
"You did well protecting Haruko."
That sentence instantly sharpened Kenichiro Ken's gaze.
Karl felt it, too.
He quickly put it together.
The attempt on Haruko's life… had come from within Militech and Arasaka's hawkish faction.
And the leader of that faction?
Arasaka Sesen.
So what was this now?
Was he mocking him? Testing him?
Kenichiro Ken certainly thought so.
But Karl—who'd actually found Sesen rather likeable so far—sensed no deceit.
That compliment?
It was genuine.
And that… was strange.
The hawk leader, praising the one who foiled his plan?
Karl didn't understand it—but he accepted it.
"Any job I take," Karl said simply, "I do it well."