Chapter 15
Tap, tap—
As Vella stepped inside, the expansive green belt filled with ornamental natural plants stood in stark contrast to the sterile chrome and neon of Night City. A luxury like this, a curated jungle in the middle of the city, was a bold declaration of Arasaka's wealth and dominance. Most citizens would never see this much greenery in their entire lives.
If someone asked Vella what she felt in that moment—
Reminiscence? Nostalgia?
Bah.
She didn't feel anything.
After her parents died, she had thrown herself into her studies at Arasaka Tower Academy with a single goal: to inherit what they left behind—titles, reputation, influence. She didn't have the time to grieve or care about the so-called "school life."
And besides, in 2074, school isn't what it used to be.
Classes? All AI-led.
Teachers? Hah. Mostly replaced by braindances.
Learning? Jammed straight into your skull via chip uploads and neural cable transfers.
There was no real teacher-student bond, no friendships forged through shared learning—well, maybe there were for some, but not for her. Vella never experienced that.
The old-school teaching model—real people teaching real people—is nearly extinct in this chrome-soaked world. Only a handful of top-tier universities still preserve it: the University of Tokyo, Humboldt in Berlin, Sorbonne in Paris, Moscow State, and UC Berkeley in the New United States.
Tuition fees there?
Astronomical.
If you're not corpo-born or chrome-backed, forget about it.
Even Arasaka Tower Academy, considered second-tier by global standards, is beyond reach for most unless your parents are long-term employees with solid corporate standing.
Want to graduate and get placed in Arasaka's upper ranks?
Naive.
Social stratification is real—and even more pronounced in places like the Academy.
For most in Night City, education is just a pipe dream. Kindergarten, primary, even secondary schooling—it's all irrelevant to the bottom classes. Community colleges exist, sure, but they're a joke. Underfunded. Outdated. Irrelevant.
Online learning?
Dead end.
Ever since that lunatic "God of Hackers" nuked the old Net, everything's on isolated corporate LANs. You can't just jack in and learn something anymore. Want to poke around the old Net? Good luck getting past the Blackwall. And if you do? Hope you enjoy having your brain melted by rogue AIs.
Even if you somehow get into a standard academy, you'll realize within the first year how uneven the playing field really is. Kids with connections or corpo grooming skip grades. Others struggle just to keep up. Eventually, the system sorts you—those without money or influence get booted to "comprehensive colleges."
What does "comprehensive" mean?
High EQ translation: All-rounded education, broad skill training, decent resources.
Low EQ reality: Jack-of-all-trades, master of none. A dumping ground for the underprivileged.
Sure, Arasaka Tower Academy still offers elite instruction—real professors, cutting-edge labs, advanced coursework. But only in specialized faculties: Military & Government Management, InfoCom & Intelligence, Biotech & Cybernetics.
The tuition and assessments for those programs?
Next level.
Comprehensive college grads?
They don't land in corpo towers. They get sent to Arasaka's smart factories, offshore farms, Badlands logistics zones—expendable labor.
Tsk… this world.
Vella let out a silent sigh.
The group, led by the Academy's reception staff, arrived at the closed ceremony venue and were guided to the VIP waiting area.
She watched as more freshmen, some escorted by hopeful parents, filled the venue with nervous excitement. Vella could already see their futures—fated paths laid out by bloodline and bank accounts.
She slipped a slim, metallic cigarette case from her pocket.
Ding—
Brian, her ever-alert black bodyguard, snapped open his lighter. The small flame flared. Vella slid a cigarette between two gloss-coated lips, lit it, and exhaled slowly.
Let's just get this over with.
Give a speech full of corpo-optimism and fake sincerity. Drop some "inspirational" lines about loyalty, excellence, and serving Arasaka with pride. Maintain her public persona: the devoted second-gen corpo, the model Arasaka loyalist, the ideal graduate.
---
At the ceremony venue...
"..."
Freshman David Martinez didn't like it here.
He hated this place.
It was too clean, too cold, too... synthetic. It clashed with everything he knew.
Home was a rundown unit in the H4 megatower, deep in Santo Domingo. Cracked elevators, piss-stained stairwells, walls so chipped you couldn't tell what color they once were. Inside the apartment, the lights flickered even when they weren't supposed to.
But here...
Here stood Arasaka Tower, looming like a monolith of absolute control. Its skyscrapers weren't buildings—they were weapons, armored and indifferent. Clean. Gleaming. Cruel.
David felt like he was standing inside the city's iron heart, and it could crush him any second.
Even his mom...
"David."
Gloria, sensing her son's unease, gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We've made it this far. Keep going. I just want you to live a full life. Don't end up like me... or your father."
Her voice trembled. Eyes moistened.
"Mom…"
David wanted to answer—offer some kind of comfort—but was suddenly distracted by a glint of red in the corner of his vision.
His gaze followed the color—red tips of his mother's hair—and landed on a striking figure near the stage, surrounded by Arasaka bodyguards.
Radiant. Dazzling. Untouchable.
Golden hair, not quite silver, not quite gold—like shimmering strands of light. It danced in the wind like ribbons.
For the first time, David understood the word "stunning."
She leaned against the rail of the VIP area behind the stage. Her sharp-shouldered Arasaka uniform wrapped around her elegant frame like custom armor. Her long hair, tied back with a deep red ribbon, spilled freely behind her like a waterfall of fire and silk.
Backlit by the artificial sunlight piped into the venue, her pale skin glowed with a soft luminescence. Two fingers held a cigarette, tendrils of smoke curling like mist around her.
Like a dream.
"So beautiful…"
The words escaped David before he realized.
"David? David?"
"I-it's nothing." He snapped out of it, looked away, guilt tinting his expression.
He knew. Even without anyone telling him, he knew—she wasn't someone from his world.
---
Gloria noticed her son's wandering eyes and followed his gaze.
Yes, the woman was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
And in Night City? Beauty this refined, this intact, was usually paired with something lethal.
A predator in silk.
"Ah...!"
She instinctively took a step back as a heavily augmented Arasaka agent brushed past. His glowing red optics scanned them, cold and clinical. The moment stretched, tension rising—
Then he passed by. Target profile deemed non-hostile.
"Thank god…"
Gloria let out a shaky breath, made a quick sign of the cross—an old habit from a religion almost forgotten in this city—and tried to steady herself.
She understood the game better than David. Working as an EMT in Night City, you see the rot behind the chrome.
That woman wasn't just rich.
She was dangerous.
A high-ranking Arasaka executive, no doubt.
David was clearly enamored. He was at that age.
Gloria exhaled slowly.
She turned her eyes back to the VIP area.
The woman was now stubbing out her cigarette in a crystal ashtray held by a cybernetically-enhanced bodyguard the size of a truck. Staff bowed. Others offered drinks with both hands.
This world... was not David's.
He'd get hurt if he tried to reach too high.
---
Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge—
"Understood," said Laurie, Vella's pale-skinned, chrome-eyed bodyguard. "We've verified the subjects. They're civilians—low threat."
Vella nodded absently, scanning the venue.
She wasn't worried about assassinations. Not here. Not on Arasaka turf.
Not since the end of the Fourth Corporate War. All the so-called legends were dead or retired. No one had dared strike the heart of the company in over 50 years.
Still...
That red-haired woman. Yellow EMT jacket.
And the boy—mohawk haircut, wide eyes. Too clear. Too soft.
Wait.
David Martinez.
Her optical scanner kicked in with a flick of her eye.
> Gloria Martinez
Civilian. Night City Medical Center. Non-Trauma Team.
Cyberware Level: Low. Hackable.
Cyberware: Basic CPU / Chip Slot
No weapons detected.
> David Martinez
...
Vella's amber cyber-eyes gleamed.
Interesting. A promising harvest today.
"Get me the full list of external admissions this year. I want entrance exam scores too," she said, already preparing future contingency plans.
But approach the boy now?
No. That would only ruin things.
He was just a kid. No skills. No mods. Still soft.
Not a friend. Not family.
She wasn't here to babysit.
Let him suffer. Let life in Night City shape him.
Later, Vella would appear—like fate. An "appreciative senior" offering kindness when he needs it most.
Then, he'll be hers.
A future legend who'd be accepted by even Adam Smasher. Not an edgerunner, not a merc—
But a loyal corpo dog.
Ah... I really am a terrible person.