Cyberpunk Patriarch

( Bonus chapter for reaching 30 powerstone🎊🎉)

"Don't say that. The doctor is really good. He doesn't have a medical license, but that's only because he didn't take the exam. He's a great doctor," David argued earnestly. He had a good relationship with the prosthetic doctor and often exchanged black-market Mewtwo software with him. The doctor had even taught him quite a bit about technology.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "A person who can't revive the dead is called a 'great doctor'? Do you even hear yourself? The kind of doctor who can revive the dead is called a necromancer!"

David was stunned. He didn't expect his father to have such ridiculous expectations for doctors. For a moment, he imagined every doctor in Night City bowing and apologizing to Arthur for not meeting his absurd standards.

Arthur continued with a smirk, "And your so-called 'great doctor' can't even take down a scavenger in a fight. What kind of doctor is that?"

David frowned. "He's a doctor. Why should he need to fight scavengers? Should a doctor pass a professional fighter's license exam first?"

Arthur shrugged and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, ready to educate his son about the harsh realities of Night City. Before he could light it, Gloria snatched the cigarette from his hand and tossed it into the trash.

Arthur scratched his nose awkwardly but didn't dare to argue. He turned his attention back to David.

"Listen up, kid. In Night City, a good prosthetic doctor isn't just skilled at fixing cyberware. They're powerful too," Arthur explained. "Take Victor, for example. He's the doctor who saved your mother. Don't let his nerdy glasses and polite demeanor fool you. He looks like a med school graduate, but one punch from him would knock you out cold."

Arthur leaned back, a nostalgic grin on his face. "Victor used to be a champion boxer. If he'd kept fighting, bars all over Night City would be named after him by now. That dark corner in his clinic? It's full of his trophies and championship belts. There's no room for his certificates, so they're collecting dust in a box somewhere."

The more Arthur spoke, the more confused David became. He scratched the back of his head, struggling to believe his father. Since when did becoming a prosthetic doctor require championship-level boxing skills?

Prosthetic doctors and medical doctors were entirely different professions. Prosthetic doctors specialized in repairing and upgrading cyberware—replacing limbs, eyes, and other body parts. While it sounded complex, it was often as procedural as fixing a car.

Medical doctors, on the other hand, focused on treating the human body. If you had an illness or injury and didn't want to replace the affected part with cyberware, you needed a medical doctor for treatments like surgery or medication.

But in a chaotic place like Night City, the lines blurred. Most people referred to prosthetic doctors as "doctors," whether they had licenses or not. As long as the patient survived, the doctor's job was considered done. After all, in Night City, you were just as likely to die from a random gunfight as from medical complications.

The next morning, Arthur groggily opened his eyes and sat up. He glanced over at David, who was snoring softly on the couch, and smirked. Without warning, he gave his son a hard slap on the back of the head.

"Get up! We've got things to do."

David groaned but didn't argue. Arthur stretched, rinsed his mouth with the bottle of mouthwash on the table, and reached for the fried noodles Gloria had left for him.

Despite its name, the dish wasn't made from flour. Arthur suspected it was synthesized starch, and it tasted just as artificial as most things in Night City.

"That damn food company must not have cleaned their purification equipment!" Arthur grumbled as he ate. "One of these days, I'm going to blow them sky-high."

Gloria handed him a glass of sparkling water, leaning on the table with a soft smile. Arthur handed her half the 6,800 eddies he earned the previous day, causing her eyes to light up.

"We can send David to school today," Arthur said suddenly. "By the way, do you think we can apply for accommodation at Arasaka Academy?"

Arthur's plan began forming in his mind. If David could live at school, there'd be no need to buy another house. It would simplify everything.

But Gloria's happiness turned into embarrassment, her face flushing as she rolled her eyes. "Bah! You're so old, yet still so naïve!"

She shook her head. "There are no schools in Night City with accommodations. This isn't some sprawling metropolis—it's just a small city compared to the rest of the world."

Arthur froze, his smile faltering. He'd forgotten that Night City schools didn't offer boarding. In the Bald Eagle Empire, public schools rarely had accommodations, and Night City followed the same model.

Arthur clenched his fists and slammed the table in frustration. "What on earth are those bureaucratic parasites doing? The crime rate is skyrocketing, and kids have to commute through dangerous streets. What if David gets attacked by some cyberpsychotic lunatic on his way home?!"

Gloria raised an eyebrow. "You've been ranting about this stuff for years. If you're so worried, buy a bigger house so David doesn't have to commute."

Arthur scratched his head, considering her suggestion. "Or… I could just buy a smaller place and let David live there on his own. He's old enough to be independent. When I was his age, I was already surviving on my own…" Arthur trailed off, realizing mid-sentence that he'd just mentioned his escapades at the Ritz Bar. He quickly changed the subject. "Ahem! Anyway, this fried noodle is delicious!"

Gloria rolled her eyes again but didn't press further. She already knew all about Arthur's mercenary past. After all, what Night City resident didn't have a colorful history?

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