"Then why don't you try to understand the true nature of the God of All Machines?"
"Is what the cult members say the truth, or is it what the corporations say?"
"After living in Night City for so long, you should know better than anyone that the media here is controlled by corporations."
"Everything we hear is only what they want us to hear."
V tried to persuade Panam Palmer, sensing the deep loneliness and helplessness buried inside the woman.
Whether it was the dazzling yet dangerous streets of Night City or the so-called sacred Holy Land, it seemed Panam had never truly found a place where she belonged.
V knew the key to helping her was simple—
Panam had to let go of her fear of God.
Because sometimes, when everyone around you is insane, the one who remains sober is the one branded as the lunatic.
But in response, Panam only lowered her voice and said softly,
"I don't know…"
After that, she fell silent.
Her attention returned fully to the road, and she said nothing more.
V understood that pressing the issue now would only make things worse.
So, she quietly leaned back, giving Panam the space she needed to think.
…
…
The vehicle continued forward until it finally arrived at the Sunset Inn.
This place had once been remote and nearly abandoned.
Back then, only drifters, homeless wanderers, and gang members came here for all kinds of shady deals.
But now—
everything had changed.
Ever since the Mechanicus had taken control of the area, its status had risen dramatically.
The innkeeper had seized the opportunity perfectly.
Not only had the place been extensively renovated, but an extravagant grand hotel had been built around it.
Several high-end sections now had strict access restrictions.
Only members of the Holy See, Good Masters, or guests personally led in by acquaintances were permitted entry.
Surprisingly, this blatant class distinction hadn't hurt business at all.
If anything, it had made the place even more popular.
Believers and cult members flooded in daily, allowing the owner to make an absolute fortune.
Panam glanced at V.
"Let's stay here for the night."
"Hermann leaves tomorrow, right?"
V nodded.
"Mm. Sounds good."
The two women stepped into the bar area together.
Panam raised a hand.
"Hey, Noah."
"Two beers."
The bartender looked up and immediately recognized her.
"Oh?"
"Panam Palmer."
"Haven't seen you in a while."
"I heard you went back to Night City."
Panam popped the cap off a bottle and casually flicked it toward V.
The beer spun neatly through the air and landed perfectly in her hand.
Then Panam dropped heavily into the soft sofa like a deflated balloon and took a long drink.
Time passed slowly.
When the bottle was nearly empty, she finally spoke again.
"That's enough, Noah."
"I need two rooms."
The moment he heard that, Noah's face immediately twisted into something more bitter than medicine.
He sighed helplessly.
"Panam…"
"You know the rules."
"The rooms here are only for priests and Good Masters."
"Outsiders are welcome to drink and relax, but they're not allowed to stay overnight."
The words instantly made Panam's expression darken.
A wave of embarrassment mixed with anger rose inside her.
"Damn it, Noah."
"Aren't we supposed to be friends?"
"You can't even help with something this small?"
Noah immediately raised both hands defensively.
"It's not that I don't want to help."
"But rules are rules."
"When the rules are right, they can't be broken."
"That's the only way order remains stable."
As he spoke, he raised two fingers and drew a strange mechanical sign across his chest.
Clearly—
he too was a devout believer of the Mechanicus.
The believers in the bar immediately echoed in unison.
"Praise the God of All Machines!"
Panam rolled her eyes so hard it was almost painful.
"Damn it…"
"I knew this would happen."
She had never been able to accept these fanatical believers who constantly spoke in the name of the God of All Machines.
That was one of the reasons she had ultimately left the tribe.
At that moment, V calmly took out an iron badge from her waist and placed it on the counter.
It was the Good Master token Mitch had given her.
"Praise the God of All Machines."
The moment Noah saw the Level 3 Good Master insignia, his bitter expression instantly vanished.
It was replaced with a warm, almost reverent smile.
"Praise the God of All Machines."
"Praise the Good Master."
He immediately produced two key cards and respectfully handed them over.
"Two three-star rooms."
"Free of charge."
"May your gears never rust."
V accepted the cards with satisfaction and lightly twirled them in front of Panam.
Then she casually returned the blessing.
"May your gears never rust."
Privileges were like that.
Only those who had personally experienced them truly understood how intoxicating they felt.
People never truly hated privilege.
They only hated not being the ones enjoying it.
Panam stared at Noah in disbelief.
"Damn it, Noah."
"You really made me lose face today."
Noah could only shrug helplessly.
"Fine."
"This round's on me."
He reached beneath the counter and brought out a precious bottle of Golden Amber Rum.
Carefully, he poured a glass for both women.
The golden liquid shimmered like molten gold inside the ornate crystal glasses.
Ice slowly melted within, releasing a faint mist that clung to the outer surface like frost.
The aroma alone was intoxicating.
Each glass—
500 eurodollars.
This place was practically printing money.
Panam's eyes widened.
"Holy shit."
"You can actually afford something like this?"
"When did you get this rich?"
Noah scratched the back of his head with a smug grin.
"Heh."
"Just made a little money recently."
Of course, he wasn't about to mention that his monthly alcohol commission alone had already exceeded 100,000 eurodollars.
Then Panam's eyes drifted toward the label on the bottle beside him.
The listed price made her head spin.
Over 100,000.
Her voice trembled.
"…Wait."
"Then how much was that beer we just drank?"
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