Chapter 60: An Unexpected Windfall

Outside the city walls, the junkyard stretched out in a wasteland of rot. Piles of discarded junk rose like mountains, reeking with a foul, lingering stench.

Yet amid this desolation, a single structure stood out sharply from its surroundings.

A deep hum suddenly rolled through the air as a brand-new AV drifted into view above the workshop.

The craft bristled with heavy weaponry, and an inverted-triangle emblem gleamed prominently on its tail—an emblem the workshop staff instantly recognized.

“PROJECT Corporation’s mark? Is that AV from PROJECT?”

“Company people? What are they doing here…?”

Their confusion was understandable. Ever since Roland founded this workshop, he’d never planned to draw attention. Other than the manager, no one else knew the place was affiliated with PROJECT Corporation.

To them, the workshop was nothing special—just another outfit scouring junkyards for valuable scraps or specific items requested by customers. Not much different from the other local forces.

If there was anything special… it was the firepower. Their workshop had unusually strong security backed by a batch of combat-ready robots.

While the employees whispered among themselves, the AV slowly descended and came to a steady landing in front of the workshop.

The doors hissed open, and two towering robots stepped out. Their angular frames, metallic plates, and single red ocular lenses swept across the area with cold precision.

They were the Imperial Guard units Roland had manufactured from the schematics he’d acquired—robots equipped with extensive security protocols, heavy combat power, and a core directive to protect their employer at all costs.

Built from a unique alloy developed in the PROJECT universe, they possessed exceptional defensive strength paired with advanced intelligence. In short, they were near-perfect bodyguards.

Their only flaw was the high price tag. Their standard armaments included the [Jamil IV Charged Rifle] and [Jamil III Charged Shotgun].

Nearby security robots from other workshops noticed the disturbance and quickly approached, but as soon as they identified the Imperial Guard logo—and the personnel inside—they backed off, gradually forming a loose protective perimeter.

People scattered across the neighboring junkyards also heard the commotion. Since such areas were usually deserted, this sort of event was rare.

Still, everyone instinctively kept their distance. Nobody wanted to get shot for accidentally wandering too close. If someone died in a junkyard, who would even bother to ask why?

Naturally, the workshop manager noticed the commotion as well. The moment he saw Roland stepping out of the AV, he hurried forward with a flattering grin.

“Boss! Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I would’ve prepared a proper welcome for you!”

Roland gave him a brief glance, ignoring the flattery. He tilted his chin toward the interior.

“Inside.”

“Oh—yes, yes, of course!”

Micks froze for a moment before smiling and nodding repeatedly. He jogged ahead to lead the way, while the two Imperial Guard robots followed closely. One kept its red lens locked onto Micks as he moved.

[Scan complete. Subject: Micks. Male. Right arm: cosmetic-grade cyberware. Internal organs replaced with cybernetic equivalents. Right eye: Kiroshi Optics. No combat implants or explosives detected… Threat level: 0.5.]

Roland followed Micks into his office.

He sat down directly in the main seat, then picked up a physical book from the desk, raising an eyebrow.

“Didn’t expect you to have such refined taste—buying paper books.”

As he spoke, he glanced around. The office was surprisingly well decorated. Clearly a lot of effort—or money—had gone into it.

“Boss, let me explain—”

Micks’s face drained instantly, turning pale as chalk. Sweat trickled down his forehead as his mouth went dry.

“You don’t need to explain anything,” Roland said flatly. “I just want to know whether you’ve finished what I asked.”

He shot Micks a sideways look. Roland didn’t bother pressing the issue—if the man had used his funds without delivering results, Roland would show him exactly what “corporate power” meant.

Micks immediately wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Yes—yes! I’ve been working on it. I’ve already found a few things.”

“Oh?”

Roland’s interest was piqued. He set down the book and walked toward Micks.

“Then take me to the basement. Show me what you found.”

A series of beeps sounded as a code was entered. The heavy door slowly ground open, and a wave of rot washed over Roland, making him frown on instinct.

Cold lights flickered on, revealing a basement packed full of bizarre freezers stacked haphazardly across the room.

“Boss, just like you ordered, I gathered every freezer that might contain the body of a netrunner.”

Micks spoke carefully as he stepped forward.

“…Good work. You can leave.”

Roland exhaled deeply, gesturing toward the door. Honestly, he was grateful this idiot hadn’t opened them—otherwise…

With Micks’s recklessness, he might’ve killed himself with whatever biohazards were sealed inside.

Micks quickly obeyed, stepping out and finding himself locked in a staring contest with one of the Imperial Guard robots stationed at the entrance. Roland remained inside with the other unit.

“System, it’s been a while since you’ve had anything to do. Scan the place for Bartmoss’s freezer. This should count as changing the plot, right?”

“Affirmative.”

The scan finished swiftly—but the result left Roland with a strange expression.

There was no Bartmoss freezer here.

Instead, the scan had found something else—someone else—far more interesting.

“Bring me that freezer in the corner.”

Roland pointed, and the Imperial Guard robot obeyed.

Thud!

With a heavy crash, the freezer was placed before him.

Roland opened it slowly.

Inside lay the pale corpse of a silver-haired woman. What drew his attention most was the absence of her consciousness—her mind was gone, leaving only the lifeless body behind.

She was a compatible host for Project: Spirit!