I fell into the world of cyberpunk games

It was quite chilly outside. Cold smoke seeps through the open space above the cramped railing.

Kabuki Condominium No. 0973, I closed the door to my creaking room and looked out the window.

The sky beyond the window was the color of the TV after the broadcast was over.

… It was just something I wanted to do at least once.

It was time to put my hands in my pockets and head to the elevator hub of the building.

“Hey, Masked Asian.”

On the left side, along with a shrill voice, I was blown away. it’s calling me

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Masked Asian, my nickname.

There aren’t many people who wear conspicuous dust masks, and among the dogs, ‘real Asians’ like me are even rarer.

That’s what made it so special that it became a kind of nickname for me within the complex.

I turned around to see a copper-skinned, yellow-mohican-haired Hispanic man leaning against the railing in front of the door next door, looking over there.

A yakuza carp tattoo glowing with a purple argon sign flaps on his forearm.

It is a skin graft cyberware. Simply putting organic light emitting diodes on one’s skin for the sake of being stylish. I still can’t understand that tattoo sensibility.

“Hey, that cramped mask is still there. When are you planning to take it off?”

Saying that, the man pulled out a cigarette from his mouth and exhaled smoke. An aerosol mixed with nicotine hits my face. I don’t feel anything because I’m wearing a mask.

That wasn’t a real cigarette. Of course.

In this world, cigarettes made from real tobacco have long since entered the realm of luxury used by the wealthy.

Those are fake cigarettes, e-cigarettes that are made quite similar to cigarettes.

There must be a liquid cartridge and nebulizer inside that fiber. Nicotine must also be a chemical compound, not extracted from tobacco.

It was a gimmicky cigarette that could be used by gangsters, and that was also natural. Because that guy is a gangster

The man’s name is Shimizu-Dick.

As you can tell from his tattoos, he was a Yakuza. This neighborhood, Asian Town, is dominated by the Japanese mafia.

Even if you say that you are a Japanese mafia, only the name and form are Japanese, but in reality, they are all Westerners.

Where did that person say he belonged? Was it Mt. Shimizu?

Probably right. So, I guess I put shimizu in front of the name. There is a culture where you have to change your last name to become a member of an organization or a family.

Anyway, that man, Shimizu Dick, was a resident next door who lived in the room to the left of where I lived.

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My house is on the 10th floor, room 973, so I live in room 974 right next door.

In short, the resident next door is a gangster. It’s pretty common in Dusk City.

Even though he was a gangster, he wasn’t that bad. It’s because it’s a bit cumbersome to act like an idiot. At least, that’s what we’ve been talking about face to face.

It’s a very narrow building, and the rooms are tight, so I have to run into the person next door in some way.

He is quite humorous and has a good sense of humor, unlike a person who lives on a crime. I’d say it’s a natural bone insa.

It’s a bit of a burden for an outsider like me, but what can I do? Your opponent is a gangster.

What do you do if you ignore what you’re talking about and then shoot him with a gun? In a city of extreme security, it would be more than enough.

For that reason, we became close friends by demonstrating our maximum affinity for conversation.

They’re not friends, but they’re just normal acquaintances who can say hello and talk a few words when they meet.

That was my relationship with that Mohican Yakuza, Shimizu Dick, who is called the ‘Chicken Crest Man’.

The reason why he is called the Chicken Crest Man is simple. Because it is a mohican with its head in the shape of a chicken’s crest, and it’s a perfect song that draws everyone’s attention.

The party doesn’t seem to like it, but can it be done? You can’t decide on a nickname for yourself.

There is a culture in which the locals here call each other by nicknames rather than by names, and Shimizu became a rooster man just as I was a ‘Masked Asian’.

*Whoa—*

The chicken head man looked at me and smoked again. Pure white smoke wraps around the mask goggles.

No, why do you keep shooting nicotine at people’s faces without being cheap?

He frowned and waved his hands to remove the smoke, only then he stopped smoking and smiled.

“Oh sorry. He didn’t answer at all, he just stared blankly into the air, so I thought he might have taken some medicine.”

This novel was posted at NovelNext.com

Medicine is what you take every day.

But today, he’s smoking just plain cigarettes, not marijuana.

Anyway, that’s the answer.

Come to think of it, the chicken head guy asked me something earlier. Was it about the mask I was wearing?

It’s a nonsensical story. said in a hoarse voice.

“If there comes a day when the air quality in this neighborhood gets better, I will take off my mask by then.”

And that day never comes. In other words, it is not going to take off.

The level of pollution here in Dusk City is terrible. It’s not for nothing to call it the world’s end of the world.

As water and land are polluted, even ordinary agricultural and livestock products have become the exclusive property of the wealthy, which is difficult to access by ordinary people.

Every day, the fine dust concentration exceeds 1000㎍/㎥. In the old world, the worst fine dust would be on the news, and here it is everyday.

Even this is better because it is inside the city boundary and shielding dome.

I heard that Outside outside the city is not just polluted, it is close to a land of death where human survival is impossible.

So I got this with multiple filters, a small air purifier and face protection goggles.

It is unavoidable to wear a dust mask that is ignorantly large and thick, close to a gas mask, and attracts a lot of people’s attention.

It’s not optional, it’s mandatory. To survive, you must wear a mask when you go out. You must also install an air purifying facility and a clothing sanitizing device in your home.

Otherwise, my lungs would be ripped apart in real time.

It’s not the usual smoke, but the atmosphere full of heavy metals and toxic substances from the military factory, so go out without a mask? It’s like suicide.

Of course, there are people who don’t.

“Hey, you sound like a coward. The machine will take care of that.”

A typical example of this, the mohican yakuza pointed to his neck.

Neck, nose, mouth… That human respiratory system has its own air-purifying cyberware.

It is one of the body modifications that must be installed in order to live in this kind of air pollution.

Thanks to that, even in this filthy air, all people can walk around safely. Without wearing an uncomfortable and stuffy mask like me.

It would be great if my body had an automatic purification system like that.

How innovative it is that a mask filter is already installed in the respiratory tract without having to wear a mask every time.

But I couldn’t enjoy the innovation.

It’s not that I was called Masked Asian for nothing, wearing a dust mask that made it difficult to breathe every day.

I don’t write because I want to write. I’m writing this because there’s no other way.

It’s expensive and it’s too expensive. Instead of blocking contaminants close to perfection, the price of the main body and the cost of changing the purifier every time is considerable.

I’d be better off getting a respirator mod for me too. If only I could get it, I would.

It means there is a reason why you can’t.

First of all, the purified cyberware that people in the city usually pay to install when they are born or when they relocate doesn’t exist for me at all.

Because I was born in Korea in the 21st century and never did any body modifications.

Of course, I’m not the only one who doesn’t have a purifier, and there are many poor people who don’t have the money to even get basic respiratory remodeling, so they live on cheap masks.

You live like that, and when you work hard and get enough to eat, you save money and get a purification device transplanted to free you from the mask.

In that case, it might be 0.1% of the total.

In the end, the point is that even if you haven’t received a respiratory remodeling yet, you can get a new transplant if you have the money.

In my case, I am from the lower classes, but the situation is much better than that of the poor. I was able to somehow raise the money with what I had been saving up for so long.

It’s not money, it’s something else.

Identity. His damn biometric ID, nanomachine. Normally it’s fine. Because I have a fake ID.

However, if you perform a thorough physical examination for cyberware implantation, you will be caught immediately.

There are no nanomachines in my body, and my ID is fake. Fake data isn’t perfect.

Therefore, they could not be transplanted in a regular facility. You will be reported immediately.

Then, the remaining option is an irregular medical facility, commonly referred to as an underground clinic… Am I crazy to go in there? Places that sell or sell human organs.

Of course, if you look carefully, you can find a clean underground clinic somewhere, but you don’t have the ability or network to get such a reliable non-regular medical facility.

In addition, the cost of surgery in the underground clinic is terribly expensive.

In the end, it means that there is no other way for me than to just keep wearing a gas mask.

… But I couldn’t tell the Mohican Yakuza straight away.

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