After chatting briefly with Gloria, Lin Mo excused himself and walked upstairs alone.
David stood where he was for a moment, watching his classmate—now also his boss—disappear up the staircase. A tangle of emotions welled up in his chest as he turned toward his mother.
It was complicated.
She'd always been his closest family, and though they used to argue constantly—him acting rebellious, her scolding him half to death—David had no doubt who in the world cared about him the most.
If asked, he would name his mother first.
Lin Mo might come second.
So, seeing her now—his mom, Gloria—standing tall and confident, directing subordinates like a born leader, all within the span of just one month…
How could he not feel proud?
Gratitude, relief, joy, and a deep sense of fulfillment all swirled in his chest.
He smiled and said softly, "Mom, you've really worked hard."
Gloria withdrew her gaze from Lin Mo's departing figure and turned toward her son, eyes flashing briefly with exasperation—like a mother comparing her ordinary R-ranked kid to someone else's SSSR prodigy.
She sighed, shaking her head in mild frustration.
"You're still standing here like an idiot? Lin Mo's already gone up—why aren't you going to entertain him? Or are you planning to stay down here and work for me?"
She reached out and gave him a quick knock on the head.
David rubbed the sore spot blankly, only for his mother to push him toward the stairs with an impatient hand on his back.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if all his affection had just been misplaced.
When David stepped onto the second floor, his eyes lit up instantly.
The entire level was divided by glass walls—no partitions, no obstructions.
The transparent design and mirrored accents made the space feel vast and open, the neon reflections blending together in waves of light.
Only the resting quarters were enclosed by solid walls; the rest—the gaming area, the gym, the bar—was visible from anywhere.
Soft ambient light danced along the walls from a built-in projection system, flooding the floor in iridescent hues. Gentle music flowed from hidden speakers, filling the space with an easy warmth.
Gloria had borrowed this design from the "Black Hole" restaurant's holographic layout—another of her clever ideas during construction.
Lin Mo was seated at the large central table, chatting leisurely with the ripperdoc known as Old Bug.
When he saw David approaching, the old man flashed a crooked grin, then quietly excused himself, shuffling off toward the Braindance suite to enjoy himself.
Lin Mo remained seated, casually sampling the food spread across the table.
After all, no gathering was complete without a proper feast.
The long white tablecloth stretched several meters, completely covered with dazzling dishes—fruits, meats, desserts, and bottles of expensive liquor.
At the center stood a towering cake and a platter of glazed roast meat that immediately drew the eye.
Just looking at the feast made David's stomach twist in envy. For a second, he wished he had a cybernetic stomach implant just to handle it all.
"You're here," Lin Mo said casually. "Have a seat. The others aren't here yet. If you're hungry, help yourself."
He popped a few peanuts into his mouth.
David sat down, staring wide-eyed at the spread. "Damn… how much did all this cost? You really went all out."
The fruit platters alone—fresh, organic produce—were something ordinary citizens could barely dream of affording.
Easily the kind of luxury reserved for corpo elites.
Even without knowing where Lin Mo had gotten everything, David could tell—this banquet had to be worth tens of thousands of eurodollars.
Lin Mo smirked, flicking a peanut into the air and catching it perfectly between his teeth.
"When life's good, you celebrate. You enjoy what you can, while you can. It's been a week since the last mission—seems like the perfect excuse to get everyone together again."
David frowned. "With how much this cost, it'll take the workshop months to earn it back—if ever."
Lin Mo waved a hand, unconcerned. "Don't ruin the mood. Clearly, I didn't order enough to shut you up."
David rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I thought this whole 'workshop' idea was just a front—something to trick others into joining you. Didn't think you'd actually build the damn thing."
He picked up a few grapes from a nearby platter, inspecting them with fascination. He'd only ever seen fruit like this in books—or Braindance sims.
"If you're that curious, I can tell you the truth," Lin Mo said nonchalantly.
David's eyes lit up with curiosity. "You serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be? There's nothing to hide." Lin Mo leaned back. "I started this workshop mainly because I needed a base of operations—and a legal front to open up certain channels."
Technically, a "workshop" wasn't a real company. It didn't have the structure, the funding, or the recognition of a corporate entity.
But as far as Lin Mo was concerned, it was enough.
Enough to serve as a disguise. Enough to spend money freely.
For example—buying security drones, specialized vehicles, or even heavy weapons.
A "waste management workshop" had plenty of legitimate reasons to own those.
When working in the Badlands, attacks from nomads or gangs were "expected."
So deploying Behemoth trucks and armed bots? Totally "for employee safety."
Likewise, if he wanted to buy rare or restricted tech through fixer channels, he could claim it was "salvaged junk" they'd cleaned and refurbished.
Whether anyone believed it didn't matter.
All Lin Mo needed was a cover story.
"Honestly, I thought it was obvious," he continued. "Jackie and Kitagawa definitely figured it out already. You're just a bit slow on the uptake. Don't go thinking that carrying a gun makes you a grown-up—you've still got a lot to learn."
David scratched his head, chewing a grape without responding.
"By the way," he said after a pause, "what were you and Old Bug talking about just now?"
"Oh, nothing serious. Just the Sixth Street gang asking for protection money. I told him to handle it himself." Lin Mo opened a packet of fries, popping one into his mouth with a satisfied grin.
David grabbed a few himself. "So what's the plan?"
"Pay them," Lin Mo said simply. "No need to make trouble. It's just protection money—cheap insurance."
"That doesn't sound like you," David said in surprise. "I figured you'd want to teach them a lesson—to show who really runs this place."
Lin Mo chuckled. "That's not how this city works, kid. Night City isn't about endless shootouts—it's about connections. The Sixth Street gang's not our enemy right now. Hell, throw them a few eurodollars and maybe they'll even do us a favor one day."
David could only sigh at the cynicism, half admiring it, half disappointed.
He was about to respond when footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
Turning, he saw four figures approaching—a burly man with a topknot, a Japanese man in a suit, and two white-haired women in formal attire.
Lin Mo smiled, leaning back slightly.
"They're here," he said.
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