Kael sat on the edge of a rusted fire escape in Arroyo, the hum of the industrial district vibrating through his boots. He adjusted his neuroport, the interface stinging slightly as he queued up a track that had become a ghost in his machine: "I Really Want to Stay at Your House."
The neon glow of Night City didn’t feel like light anymore—it felt like noise. Kael sat on the edge of a rusted
As the first synth notes drifted through his audio processors, the grit of the city seemed to soften. For three minutes and forty seconds, he wasn’t a low-level merc dodging Militech patrols. He was back in a cramped, sun-drenched apartment in North Oak, watching the dust motes dance in the light of a window that actually faced the sky. For three minutes and forty seconds, he wasn’t
But then the song faded into the static of the city’s ambient grime. The sun didn't rise in Arroyo; the smog just turned a lighter shade of grey. Elara was gone—lost to a "data hiccup" during a heist she wasn't supposed to take. All that remained was this file, a four-megabyte loop of heartbreak that forced him to remember she was the only thing that ever made Night City feel like home. The sun didn't rise in Arroyo; the smog