Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 630, Section 44: Division
"Profit sharing."

Even when Kenta Nakamura received the document, he still couldn't quite believe that KK and Oliver had actually come to talk business with him, and that the business was one that was mutually beneficial and that he could also make a profit from—a 'waste utilization' business.

After the brief fear of KK dissipated, greed emerged along with peace.

The initial fear receded like the tide, revealing the lurking greed beneath.

Going against KK? He knew he didn't have the guts; but if it came to dividing the spoils with KK, he not only had the guts, he was incredibly bold.

Kenta Nakamura gripped the document tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the force, and the pages trembled slightly in his palm, as if they too could smell the impending surge of blood.

The list of obsolete sex dolls danced before his eyes—the ravaged and broken prosthetic bodies, the dried bloodstains on the peeling bionic skin, now seemed to him devoid of their dejected state as waste, twisted into blood-stained chips. These were not just pieces of trash to be disposed of; they were clearly levers that could pry open the gears of power within the Tiger Claw Gang.

He's definitely going to win this collaboration.

If the news of getting in touch with KK, even if it's just a superficial business deal, were to leak to the Tiger Claw Gang, it would probably cause a huge uproar.

Everyone knows what kind of situation the KK team members are in now; they're someone the Tiger Claw Gang's lackeys can't even reach by standing on tiptoe.

Even if KK and Oliver were just running errands for a prosthetic doctor this time, the mere fact that the names "Kenta Nakamura" and "KK" were on the same negotiating table was enough for him to swagger around the gang for three months.

This is opportunity.

If you can pry him open, he'll be the next one in charge; if you pry him hard enough, he might even be able to hang Arasaka's employee badge around his neck.

If I can use this to make connections, then
The leader of the Tiger Claw Gang? Ha, he's just a turtle in the mud. If things go well, maybe next time he enters Arasaka Tower, the gatekeeper will be bowing and calling him "Nakamura-san".

Before the negotiations even began, Kenta Nakamura's pupils had already dilated slightly due to an intense internal orgasm. This trembling look, like a hungry wolf tearing at rotten flesh, was imprinted perfectly in Karl's eyes.

Carl remained silent. The terms of the document were clearly stated, and he was too lazy to waste words; his silence was like a layer of ice covering the surface of the negotiating table.

Kenta Nakamura was excited for a moment, then suddenly he was jolted awake—KK and Oliver were sitting opposite him. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he swallowed the heat in his throat. His facial muscles tightened again, revealing the skin of a shrewd businessman.

He was certainly not a fool who could only drool over his position as the person in charge of Genting Highlands. It was just that the pie in the pie was too lucrative, and the oil splashed into his eyes, which made him dizzy for a moment.

Now, it's time to show off your teeth.

He snapped his index finger and tapped a line of text on the terms and conditions; the crisp sound of his fingernail hitting the paper was particularly jarring in the silence.

“The neural interfaces of this batch of sex dolls are indeed outdated, but even so, they are still Tiger Claw Gang’s trademark.” He lowered his voice, but it sounded like a whetstone being used to sharpen a blade. “The prosthetic doctor can do whatever he wants with them, except for disassembly—that’s not allowed.”

He paused for a second, then suddenly chuckled, as if his previous threat was just a harmless joke: "Of course, a pile of junk isn't something you'd refurbish and sell to homeless people in the Badlands, would it?"

His words trailed off into a hook, but his eyes were as cold as if they were poisoned, and the air suddenly tightened.

"How about adding a restrictive clause?" He finally revealed his true intentions, pushing the paper forward with his knuckles, and the black and white words on the paper suddenly became the dice cup on the gambling table.

“Restrictive clauses?” Oliver’s pupils contracted slightly; he saw through Kenta Nakamura’s scheme.

Even if those sex dolls treated as expendable items are maintained, they will be put in new electronic shackles and will never escape the Tiger Claw Gang's grasp. The tiger claw tattoos on the interfaces of those sex dolls' prosthetic bodies always gleam with a dark red light, much like the brand of a trapped beast.

When Carl saw Oliver start to speak, he stepped aside, leaving Oliver completely exposed to the neon lights of the private room.

He was merely an accomplice, while Oliver was the one who made all the decisions.

“We’ve already been incredibly generous with the terms we’re offering.” Oliver tapped the list of terms on the paper with his knuckles, the black characters trembling on the paper with his movements.

“Want to add restrictive clauses? Sure.” He suddenly leaned forward, his artificial iris shrinking into two vertical lines in the dim light. “But the maintenance cost for each prosthetic body will be deducted from 200% of their subsequent income.”

Kenta Nakamura's lips twitched slightly.

"Don't think I don't know the details of your 'high-end prosthetics'," Oliver sneered. "What kind of prosthetics does your Tiger Claw Gang use? We're all street thugs, everyone knows: experimental models with neural rejection reactions, forced binding agreements using second-hand parts."

Oliver said, tapping his finger lightly on the paper, "Since disassembly and repair are not allowed, then we'll charge according to the standard for customized services."

"custom made."

A cold light flashed from the subcutaneous chip in Kenta Nakamura's skin, and the neural acceleration module completed its profit calculation within two seconds.

The 50/50 split was only given out of consideration for KK and Oliver—in a normal business, the Tiger Claws would take at least 80%, leaving only scraps for the prosthetic doctor to fight over.

But now, Oliver wants a 200% return on maintenance costs.

A torrent of numbers, like a holographic projection, appeared before his eyes: 30% for the supply team leader, 15% for bribes, and another 20% to appease those hyena-like subordinates. In the end, what remained in his chip account was probably not much more than the small-time thugs who injected nerve drugs on the street.

“Mr. Nakamura?” Oliver’s fingers tapped out a precise second hand on the alloy tabletop. “Is there any need to hesitate? Is the Tiger Claw Gang’s ‘loyalty’ really only worth this little premium?”

Nakamura suddenly smiled.

He recalled the self-destruct program embedded in the spines of those sex slaves—a little trick originally intended to prevent them from being poached by other gangs.

But now? What's wrong with letting these junk items rot in the alley with their inferior prosthetic bodies? His retina still held the last email from Arasaka Corporation's HR department: if only they could scrape together another million euros...
"The terms remain the same." Nakamura said, raising his hand. The tiger head embroidery on his cuffs appeared faded and mottled under the neon lights. "After all, the focus of our cooperation is the future, isn't it?"

He deliberately emphasized the word "future".

What's wrong with selling off the Tiger Claw Gang's interests if it's for the sake of the future?
Once he leaves the Tiger Claw Gang and joins Arasaka, will the Tiger Claw Gang still dare to target him?

On the morning the elevator of Arasaka Tower took him to the upper floors, the squabbles of these ants beneath his feet were nothing compared to the dust on the soles of his shoes.

(End of this chapter)