And then…
Li Pan looked up at the ceiling. The hidden passage's trapdoor was located on Basement Level 3, Storage Unit #7—directly beneath the "monster storage" position. If that trapezoidal container really was a "coffin," then the longer bottom edge would be the lid, right?
In other words, this "coffin" was upside down…
And sure enough, he spotted it—a keyhole in the ceiling of Basement Level 3.
Was it really a coffin?
Or was it only because he happened to be carrying the "key" that he could even see the "door"…?
Li Pan swallowed, glancing at the surveillance feed of the company's whirlwind operative turning the Vortex Gang into minced meat. He knew he had no time to hesitate.
If that monster fell into the opponent's hands and Headquarters later sent a sealed order telling him to retrieve it, there was no way he could take on that ninja-like killing hound alone.
So he grabbed a ladder, took out the key, and unlocked the "door" in the ceiling.
More accurately—it opened a hole.
It was like lifting the panel to an attic, but the hole was only big enough to stick one's head through at most.
Inside, it was pitch-black. No telling what was in there, and Li Pan wasn't about to stick his head in like an idiot. Instead, he reached his left hand inside to grope around.
He'd been through this before—worst case, he'd just lose another hand.
After a few sweeps, he felt something, but it was so furry that it startled him. He pushed it away a bit, then had to stretch further, tiptoeing on the ladder to hook it with his fingertips.
Fortunately, the thing seemed spherical and rolled back toward him, letting him grab it and pull it out.
What the hell—pitch-black, like… a ball of yarn?
The texture was disturbingly like human hair, the kind that clogs the shower drain—dirty, damp, and nasty to the touch.
He reflexively thought he'd grabbed a lump of filth, but when he turned his head, the hole opened by the silver key was already gone.
So… this disgusting thing was actually a "monster"?
Whatever—he had it now. The warehouse infrastructure could be rebuilt by janitors. The Vortex Gang was nearly wiped out. Surveillance footage was already downloaded to his chip. Time to get out.
He stuffed the hairball into his suit pocket, retraced his route, and exited via the sewers.
Curiously, passing by the hidden passage's entrance, Li Pan noticed that in this short time, the monster nailed there had already decayed—its skin and fat rapidly liquefied, bones melted into a pool of tar-like black pus, the stench so vile he had to order the Xingtian System to shut down his olfactory sensors to keep from fainting. Naturally, in a sewer, such a smell drew a swarm of flies, roaches, and rats to feast.
This was clearly not a natural rate of decomposition. Even in Night City, where corpses were abundant, such a state was rare. Li Pan could only guess the creature was some kind of engineered bioweapon, programmed with a genetic lock so that upon death, its cells immediately broke down, preventing rivals from extracting or replicating its DNA.
Seemed there were more than a few companies secretly after this monster.
With his current gear and level, Li Pan couldn't go toe-to-toe with the heavy hitters. To avoid becoming prey himself, he decided to take the win and head straight back to HQ to turn in the mission.
By the time he returned, the company had already been "reset."
Whoever those cleaners were, they were good—faster and neater than NCHC. Inside and out, everything was spotless, no trace of the earlier bloodbath.
His ordered suit had also arrived at reception.
The fabric felt different to the touch—almost warm. It even came with a pair of leather shoes, perfectly sized. Still, it looked like ordinary clothing for now—probably needed to be "activated" by completing a task.
He changed into the suit, tossed his old clothes on the desk, grabbed a report template from HR, and headed to the GM's office. First order of business: submit a no-interest bereavement loan application for Big Bear's family.
No matter how ruthless Monster Corp was, they couldn't erase the records of a retired soldier like Big Bear from the citizen registry. If his family—especially his kids—could get a war orphan's pension, they wouldn't have to worry about losing their home before graduation.
As GM, Li Pan could at least serve as guarantor for the loan.
After finishing the paperwork, he pulled up the monster file for Warehouse #7 to write his report and request a raise.
Thankfully, the monster data was still stored—though heavily redacted with countless (DELETED) tags.
"Tangle of Death Bonds, Classification: Red, Uncontrollable.
Extremely dangerous. Earliest known form—Shroud of … After the … incident, split into a tangled mass.
Can form a Death Contract with the deceased via direct contact, reviving them. Revived apostles gain access to the powers and laws of …
Apostles cannot be destroyed until their living obsession is fulfilled. Upon fulfillment, the death contract is complete, upgrading them into vessels for …, summoning …'s avatar to descend."
On the back, someone had scribbled:
"Wherever it treads, all shall turn to the shadow of death."
Security Measures
Updated 07.57:
"20-foot container… sealed with … Ritual in …
…two bodies, placed at opposite ends.
Bind both ends of the Tangle to the …'s hands.
…conflicting death contract rules can be exploited to suppress or absorb the Tangle's power."
If containment fails:
"Have a temp worker—must be alive—hold the Tangle. Use drugs and constant electrodes to prevent them from sleeping.
If they dream, … will offer a contract. Refusal causes severe mental and physical strain, rapid cell aging.
Holder must be in good health, no chronic illness, expected lifespan over ten years.
Never store the Tangle with a corpse. Regularly replace and destroy containment … to prevent …'s ascension."
Li Pan stared at the redactions, then glanced into the office.
His "dead" suit was standing upright in the breakroom, grinding coffee beans.
He shut the door, checked the computer, picked up the phone.
"Uh, hey… my suit seems to have zombified. Is there a dry cleaner's number?"
No dry cleaner, but the landline had… suggestions.
Warehouse #1 – Pen/Exorcism Extreme – Yellow, Controllable.
"Can expel most monsters before full manifestation. Use: temp worker removes pen, stabs into their own eye, draws ink, and uses on monster.
Side effects: Permanent blindness and sorrow. Cannot be reset."
Warehouse #16 – Baton/Justice Kill – Yellow, Controllable.
"Can fell any 'Just' monster. Requires two temp workers to duel under witness of the baton. The survivor is marked 'Unjust.'
Using 'Unjust' worker on monster will mark monster as 'Just,' allowing baton to kill it.
Side effects: Only bludgeoning damage, must keep beating until dead. If user dies first, definitions reset. Keep spare temp workers."
Warehouse #39 – Child-Giving Idol/Familiar Summon – Yellow, Controllable.
"Temp worker prays for pregnancy; next day pregnant, third day gives birth to stillborn/familiar. Use on monster—monster dies.
Side effects: Minimal. Familiar has apostle-level power. Must use within three days or familiar will devour host and complete …'s descent."
Warehouse #42 – Viper Wine/Dragon's Blood – Yellow, Controllable.
"Drink, transform, gain dragon's power.
Side effects: Permanent transformation, uncontrollable temp worker. Must be killed or stored immediately."
Li Pan: "Wow… temp workers really have zero rights, huh? And couldn't you have something normal in here? Not just eye-stabbing, bludgeoning, pregnancy, or transformation?! What about an RPG launcher?!"
The phone ignored him.
"Suit/Guardian – immune to most tier-5 military weapons. Not perfect defense, but undying protection—if not dead, can reset unless rules conflict."
It paused.
"No Guardian suit has ever contracted with a Tangle of Death Bonds. The Pen/Exorcism Extreme is currently the branch's most powerful anti-monster tool."
Li Pan skimmed the pen's file.
"Blindness permanent… can I cheat with prosthetic eyes? And what's 'permanent sorrow'? Like the kind from not being born a rich second-gen?"
The phone explained—yes, permanent sorrow. Most who used it killed themselves. Survivors relied on sonar-like prosthetics. Best given to temp workers.
"Great. All kill-yourself-to-win methods. Thanks."
Someone handed him coffee—his zombie suit. The black hairball now clung to its chest like a dark boutonniere.
Li Pan: "Uh… what the hell is that?"
Phone: "How should I know? I'm just a phone."
The suit limped off, delivering coffee to every desk before standing at reception. Li Pan patted its shoulder.
"You got any unfinished business?"
It bowed and wrote in its notebook: 'Full-time'.
Li Pan nearly teared up. Quoting an old verse about boiling beans and burning beanstalks, he decided: fine, safer here than anywhere else. With Monster Corp's turnover, three years from now it'd be a miracle if both were still alive.
He updated the report, took the suit's photo, named it Mr. 007, signed off as GM, and sent everything to HQ.
A while later, HQ replied:
Big Bear's benefits need next-of-kin signature.
Tangle containment complete; reward: one silver key.
Mr. 007 approved as temp worker, file #0791002.
Li Pan sighed. Monster Corp only cared that the core asset—the monster—wasn't lost. Everything else was up to the GM.
With the second silver key in hand, he noticed a keyhole appear over his suit's heart. Without hesitation, he used it.
No reaction.
"What's the trial?" he asked.
Mr. 007 wrote: 'Go home and sleep.'
Li Pan nodded.
"Alright, you lock up."
He stepped into the elevator, watching Mr. 007 bow as the company doors closed.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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