[Task objective updated]

[Find a corpse recovery agency. (Unaccomplished)]

Gino grew up on the streets of the West District.

Every month, several unclaimed bodies would appear in the cheap rental apartments.

Based on her experience, she first called the hotline of the emergency team.

But she was refused for the first time.

"What do you mean there's no membership information?"

Gino's tone carried confusion.

The receiver on the other end actually offered an explanation, detailing the commercial service scope of the emergency team.

He even asked Gino if she wanted to sign up for a package.

"Fuck you, bitch!"

Predictably, she was enraged.

What followed was a brief but fierce tirade.

John listened silently.

He even had the leisure to brew coffee with sisal rope kitchenware.

As the only service in Eden City related to public healthcare, they refused to collect corpses for ordinary citizens, and the person on the other end confidently said — handling corpses was linked to their membership level.

This sounds incredible, yet it indeed exists as a clearly priced commercial practice.

John even understands better than Gino.

After all, he's a member of the Bolago Club and also lives in a 013 independent apartment.

Jingke Heavy Industry's intelligent robots push packages every day.

The elevator, underground garage, vending machines, even the projection screen on the bathroom glass, all advertise various membership privileges at every opportunity.

Even without deliberately paying attention, he's heard enough.

Included is the corpse recovery service partnered with the [Emergency Team].

After John self-funded the Bolago membership, a package labeled [implant chip] arrived at the apartment the next day.

The attachment even thoughtfully marked the addresses of partnered clinics.

John could choose to have it implanted by a familiar doctor or opt for surgery at a cooperating clinic on the attachment.

Then he could just like those wealthy moneybags, merely needing to suffer certain injuries to have the emergency team's hovercar arrive with medical staff and combat units to save the day.

John didn't install it.

Implementing rescue meant real-time monitoring.

Data would be tracked by satellites and exposed within the city's local network.

For a mercenary, that's a constraint.

The contract clauses of the emergency team clearly outlined the so-called [corpse collection service].

If you encounter danger but aren't lucky to be saved, or you die on the scene, the emergency team's combat members will snatch your corpse back.

Even if you're blown to pieces by a bomb, they still need to scrape up a certain percentage of the fragmented limbs, bone scraps, organ bloodstains, and pack them up to bring back for submission.

As for what happens after the corpse is returned?

The company would conduct a complex mechanical dissection, separating and cleaning usable organs and implants, classifying and bagging them neatly.

Ensuring more meticulousness than Christmas gifts.

Whether the body is cremated or cold-stored depends entirely on the client's preferences filled out beforehand.

All these items must be handed to relatives or emergency contacts for signature.

If nothing is cleary pre-arranged, the body could directly be sealed and sent to the cemetery.

The emergency team would pay for [cemetery rent] according to your membership package, waiting for someone to claim it, or reducing the preservation level upon payment failure until it's pulled out by public administrators from the iron box and discarded.

Professional companies are quite thorough with "after-death matters".

They might even send lawyers to help handle estate issues for you.

Of course.

Ordinary citizens like sisal rope.

Or more bluntly, those who don't pay fees to the emergency team, are not eligible for enjoyment.

Seeking help from medical institutions turned out to be a failure.

Gino hung up with a displeased expression.

"A bunch of bloodsucking bitches!"

"You can't rely on the emergency team; they're busy saving the wealthy."

John shrugged.

Gino nodded and dialed another number.

Although the emergency team didn't handle sisal rope's corpse, they provided Gino with a municipal recovery hotline and patiently informed her.

[Task objective updated]

[Call the municipal processing hotline. (Unaccomplished)]

According to Eden City's management regulations.

The police department and municipal subsidiary [public health department] are responsible for processing unclaimed bodies on the streets.

Yet again, Gino was disappointed.

When she called, they said they were busy today.

"I'd really like to tear apart your XX, fuck, what the hell do you mean busy, someone's dead here, is the body going to wait on the sofa for you all day?"

The operator interrupted her.

"Sorry, miss, not a day, actually, unexpected bodies reported via hotline take at least a week."

"Fuck! I'm going to complain about you, you bunch of..."

"Oh... miss, as you know, complaining only cuts my performance score, and adds another nameless corpse to this city. Pity I can't afford a gun, until after work, when I can jump off a high spot and line up behind your friend, waiting to be scooped up before completely rotting..."

[Task objective updated]

[Complain about the operator. (Optional)]

[Hang up the phone. (Optional)]

[Continue the call. (Optional)]

That person's tone was especially calm.

John was also on the channel, just didn't speak.

He and Gino exchanged a glance.

The operator kept rambling.

"...Honestly, if you really care about your friend, calling the municipal corpse processing won't satisfy you. Find a street-side road, bend over, and look at those garbage trucks with LOGOs. They'll carry the body and waste all the way to the landfill outside the city... If you can accept that, leave the body there, makes no difference..."

Swish.

The sound of medicine bottles clinking came from the other end.

John could almost imagine:

The operator sitting beside the workstation, complaining about work and life, fiddling with a brown bottle bearing a [Gaia Cells] or [Longsheng Pharmaceutical] label.

"...The city council is promoting automatic garbage trucks, those damn robots, they're taking even the garbage jobs, cutting half the people from the streets, maybe next time you call this number, it won't be a person here to answer..."

"Hey, brother, I'm not calling to have heart-to-heart chats."

Gino interrupted, but her tone was no longer fierce.

Squeak—

A chair adjustment sound came from the other end.

"But you listened, didn't you? Thank you, stranger lady."

The operator gave Gino a tip.

"Trust me, call to report it as a cyber-psychosis outbreak, exaggerate a bit, oh, but not too much, or it'll alert the action team..."

ECPD would certainly respond faster than municipal cleaners.

They would go to inspect the scene, set up barriers, outline white human shapes, and take the corpse back to toss it into the agency's incinerator.

Just paying a certain fee would allow for receiving relics and ashes.

"That's already pretty proper, aside from that, I wouldn't recommend calling any public hotline again."

[Swish, oooh...]

The sound of medication intake came from the other end.

"Good night, lady."

The call was voluntarily hung up.

Gino stepped back a bit in daze, looking at John with bewildered eyes.

She didn't know what might unfold behind the person taking medication.

Encountered enough death today.

She didn't want to think deeply.

Holographic advertising continued to change.

Neon lights hit John and her layer by layer like waves.

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