I turned the wheel, following Lucia’s directions.
There were hardly any people on the streets, but the area didn't feel deserted. The air itself felt... refined, I suppose. It was cloaked in a silence so meticulously tuned it felt artificial.
The only sounds that reached my ears were the low hum of autonomous gardening drones spraying water and the metallic snip of shears pruning branches.
...I didn't like it. In fact, it made me restless.
A noisy, chaotic clamor was more my speed. Back in the slums, there was at least a sense that the world was "alive."
Even as I chewed on those thoughts, the car glided forward. A few minutes later, our destination came into view.
"Extravagant" didn't even begin to cover it.
High walls surrounded a plot of land that was exceptionally large even for this district. A massive gate, forged from iron and composite materials, stood like a fortress. Even from the street, I could see perfectly manicured gardens and a fountain that was far more grand than necessary.
...The quintessential rich person’s house.
The security was equally absurd.
The tops of the walls were lined with sensor-linked high-voltage grids. Jamming devices to cut off communications saturated the perimeter, and an automated anti-air system scanned the skies. The guards stationed in the sentry post were outfitted with state-of-the-art gear, including shoulder-mounted tracking missiles.
A single shot from one of those would probably level a flimsy house in the Lower District. I wondered just how much money they poured into this place.
As I brought the car to a halt in front of the gate, the surveillance cameras along the wall swiveled in unison to face us.
Infrared, radiation, molecular-level tracing—the gate was a concentrated mass of every sensor imaginable.
I almost laughed, but I wasn't about to wave at them, even as a joke.
Once Lucia’s ID was verified, the heavy gates slid open silently.
I gave a casual two-finger salute to the guards as we passed, but they remained as motionless as stone statues. No surprise there.
Inside the gates was a different world entirely.
Meticulously trimmed grass, layered flowerbeds, and a riot of colorful blossoms. The price of a single one of those plants could probably keep someone in the Lower District alive for a month. Maybe longer.
I knew wealth tended to pool in the hands of the few, but seeing it on this scale just made me want to chuckle dryly.
My crimson car crawled through the quiet garden like a foreign object.
I parked in front of the main entrance, where a picture-perfect "butler" stood waiting.
His silver-grey hair was slicked back, with a single lock tied neatly with a black ribbon. He looked to be in his sixties, but his posture was perfectly upright, and his stance—without a single hint of hesitation—made him seem younger than his years.
Actually, he gave off a sharpness akin to a honed blade. He looked far more troublesome than the armed guards at the gate.
Lucia and I stepped out of the car. she hurried over to the butler immediately. I took a moment to stretch, then popped the trunk to grab the Compression Box before sauntering over to join them.
"I have been expecting you, Master Haijima. The Master is waiting within."
After greeting Lucia, the butler bowed deeply to me.
He knew my name. That meant they’d already run a background check.
His voice and gaze were unwavering. I couldn't even read his "inner voice"—the old man was seriously well-trained.
"Yeah. Good to meet you."
As I gave my brief reply, Lucia grabbed my arm and began to pull.
"Thank you, Sebastian! Is Father with Cecily?"
...Sebastian. What a cliché. Was the name hereditary or something?
While I was being cynical in my head, the old butler offered a pleasant smile.
"No. He is waiting in the drawing room first. This way, please."
He pushed open the heavy entrance doors and ushered us inside.
As soon as I stepped over the threshold, the air of luxury hit my lungs.
The lobby featured a massive atrium. A grand staircase sat dead center, flanked by hallways leading deeper into the mansion. Above us, a massive chandelier glittered like a cluster of gems, and the walls were adorned with intricate paintings in gold-leaf frames.
The display shelves were lined with carvings and ceramics. I don't know why rich people always gravitate toward the "classical" aesthetic. Then again, I wasn't one to talk.
Sebastian closed the door, stepped around us, and bowed again.
"Thank you for waiting. Please, follow me. And... Lady Lucia. Grabbing a gentleman’s arm is quite unbecoming."
Chastised, Lucia hurriedly let go of me and tried to look composed.
...She really was hopeless. Or maybe she was just a spoiled daughter who knew she could get away with it.
We walked down a hallway lined with carpet so thick my feet felt like they were sinking into it. We headed for the first-floor drawing room, passing several doors before Sebastian stopped in front of a heavy, hand-carved one.
He gave a light knock.
"Master. I have brought Lady Lucia and Master Haijima."
After a brief pause, a low, gravelly voice replied from within.
"Send them in."
Sebastian bowed and pushed the door open.
Lucia went in first, and I followed. Sebastian entered last, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
The moment I stepped into the room, I thought, figures.
A magnificent table made of solid, heavy wood sat in the center. Leather sofas and armchairs were arranged neatly around it. Soft sunlight streamed through the large windows; it had likely been filtered through the courtyard to make it look unnaturally clear. I swear, the people in the Upper District probably regulated the sun itself.
The man sitting on the sofa was Gordon Rainburg, Lucia’s father.
I’d seen his face on electronic paper before. He was the founder and current head of Rainburg Corp.
Most corporate heads were thin, spindly types—"boardroom dwellers." But the man before me was built differently. While he wasn't a Muscle Daruma like Cordeaux, I could see the bulk beneath his suit. There was a sense of well-trained weight in his shoulders and neck.
...Though I doubted it was all natural. Plenty of corporate executives replaced parts of themselves with combat prosthetics as a "just in case" measure.
Gordon stood and walked toward us.
He had a well-groomed beard and a smooth forehead, with a gaze that was more sharp than cold. He offered his hand, and I took it.
...Yep, there it was. Definitely cybernetic.
Probably a small-caliber energy weapon. The range would be short, but the output would be vicious—the kind of thing that would do a lot more than just scorch skin. It was likely a swappable unit he kept as insurance. Scary stuff.
"Welcome. I am Gordon Rainburg. Though I imagine you already know that. My apologies; it seems my daughter has made quite a sudden demand of you."
His voice was low, but the apology sounded genuine enough.
Beside me, Lucia bowed deeply. She looked unusually formal, for once.
As invited, I took a seat on the sofa. The air springs caught my weight perfectly, then gave me a gentle nudge when I moved to shift. Man, even a chair was a luxury item here.
Lucia sat down primly beside her father. Her expression looked a bit more childlike than it had earlier.
Eventually, Sebastian appeared.
Ignoring the built-in coffee machine, he’d gone through the trouble of wheeling in a cart from the next room. He quietly tilted a silver pot, pouring black tea into cups for everyone.
A rich fragrance filled the air. It wasn't artificial—those were real tea leaves. A floral aroma permeated the room.
Lucia and Gordon both smiled, thanked him, and took graceful sips.
I picked up my cup as well, for the sake of manners, but I only let a few drops touch my tongue.
The scent was good, and the flavor was fine. ...No signs of poison or nanomachines.
Hey, don't laugh. Once, a guy served me tea with a friendly smile that turned out to be laced with mind-crushing drugs.
Don't worry, though—those people aren't "around" anymore.
I set the cup down and got to the point.