Gino seemed to have figured it out and drank all of Angelica's special mix.

She pulled out a freshly opened box of Golden Apples from her pocket, flicked a slender cigarette to her lips, and lit it up.

John slumped on the couch, shifted his gaze, and turned his head in the moving spotlight's glow, catching sight of the lively girls in the bar—there's almost no room for naive and sweet girls to survive in Eden City, and those who can make a name for themselves have real skills.

The group shared some experiences with each other.

Angelica chatted about everyday shop management, mercenary and street thug blunders, what business deals the super rookies had gotten into, and which soon-to-be legends or big shots had bad luck and bit the dust...

Gino talked about the gossip shared by girls in the Red Light District.

Whose sex doll got kicked out of high-end clubs because they couldn't cover the costs of upgrades and new implants, then got snatched up by new clients and stores trying to score a bargain.

Some jerks had bad bedroom skills, whose performance was lousy.

Macao's boxing gym got a batch of newcomers again, familiar boxers either moved up or failed, making the events more varied, with the commercial vibe bringing an explosion of wealth and extremes...

More people were boxing for a living.

As night fell and the conversation deepened, Gino's anger turned to silence; he gradually stopped chiming in, claiming he was a bit tipsy and nestled in the corner playing games on his headband.

John and Angelica chatted late into the night, accompanied by drinks and meats.

He speared a piece of cooled sausage, suddenly thought of something, and looked up to ask Angelica.

"The first time you gave me that thing to eat, what was the fresh content ratio?"

"Initially, it was forty percent—this is the generally accepted tested ratio, a smoother adaptation process."

Angelica didn't hide it, pausing for two seconds and flashing a wicked smile.

"The second time it was eighty percent, the most likely to cause physiological rejection yet recoverable, but you couldn't taste any difference. That night, I took you to the Radiant Dust Farm, and while you were shooting from the rooftop, I discussed your case with some friends..."

"You were experimenting on me?"

"Your response wasn't normal, making me doubt my hypothesis's rigor. Turns out, the problem was with you; no one else's adaptation was as strong as yours."

Angelica didn't feel guilty at all.

She leaned forward on the table, getting close to John's face, squinting slightly as if provoking—what's your move?

Angelica's shiny jacket hung loosely, the perfume was overwhelming, and you could see she wore a Tipsy Bikini work outfit underneath, with a colorful champagne glass tattoo on her collarbone.

John leaned in, staring into her eyes from a kissing distance, reached out to zip up Angelica's jacket, hiding all that beauty.

"I don't like to overthink with friends."

"Okay, our mercenary is mad now."

Angelica shook her head and backed off.

"I heard you're good at driving?"

John reclined on the sofa, replying without lifting an eyelid. "More confident than I am at shooting people."

"Wow, can't wait to see. I know some illegal races, but the city's unstable right now. Venues and participants aren't great. Once things settle, join me for some side income."

Angelica offered her way of compensation.

John gladly accepted her apology; as the night station changed, the buzz from the alcohol started to tug at his fatigue.

He said goodbye to the two girls and returned to Dan Street Apartment. There were about four or five days left until Mr. Vito's retirement party, enough time to rest well and find some other fun.

[Eden City - Dan Street No. 013]

Familiar apartment lobby.

Behind the gold-colored service desk, a waiter robot in a black-and-gold suit suddenly raised its head.

Its earlobes lit up, detecting John's biometrics, bowing to greet him. The silver-white faceplate showed no features, yet it felt as though it was smiling.

"Welcome home, Mr. John, you have a mail awaiting signature..."

John nodded, not slowing his pace as he walked into the elevator.

The metal doors closed, the ambient light turned on, and because he was a member, the ads on the display were automatically blocked, replaced by a string of waves, and the reception robot's voice rang out again.

[Mr. John, during your absence, Ms. Oulos Grenada submitted a visitor request, but no message received. Would you like to leave her single/long-term access permissions?]

The elevator panel jumped to the confirmation interface before John.

He casually left Oulos with long-term access.

After Bone Shards took over the apartment assets, all of Black Gold Gang's high-end residences were linked to Jingke Heavy Industry's firewall, replacing service staff with twenty-four-hour smart machines.

Bolago Club members have integrated services, allowing home systems, mobility vehicles, and access permissions to be tied together; wherever there's a public internet connection, services could be linked.

Account balance and life convenience are proportional.

John thought of the quarterly membership fee, feeling a slight ache in his jaws.

The elevator had arrived.

He walked into the room and stayed in the hallway, in the time it took to pour himself a glass of water, the elevator ascended again, carrying the just-signed express delivery—the 'sudden fortune' account and Special Inhibitor raw materials that Black Spider collected from the landfill.

[Dan Street Apartment Management System (hacked)]

This apartment building has no balcony; John hacked the system with Black Light, enabling the captain to use express scanning to dock at collection points, allowing legal delivery to his hands through 'normal channels.'

Oulos submitted the visit request also thanks to Black Light.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.