Kapitel 17: Manage what?

I walked down the food hall of the 44th floor, the usually bustling area felt unusually subdued. Uncle Chen's stall was closed, the shutters down, adding to the eerie quietness of the place. I took a seat at the next stall over, a small noodle place run by Mrs. Liu, a middle-aged woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper culinary skills.

Mrs. Liu glanced at me as she wiped down the table in front of the stall. The TV screen above blared with cyberpunk adverts – neon colors flashing, promoting the latest in cybernetic enhancements and virtual reality escapades. An intro to a popular show, "Neon Samurai," started playing, its high-energy theme music clashing with the somber mood of the hall.

Lost in thought about Tom, I barely registered the noises around me – the sizzle of noodles in a wok, the muted conversations of the few patrons around, and the occasional clatter of dishes. My worry for Tom gnawed at me; his unusual melancholy and now his disappearance didn't add up.

Mrs. Liu's voice broke through my thoughts. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked, her tone softer than usual.

I looked up at her, forcing a smile. "Just the usual. Can I get a bowl of spicy beef noodles, please?" As I spoke, my eyes glowed green for a moment, signaling the payment transfer.

"Need to eat to think straight, huh?" Mrs. Liu commented as she started preparing my order.

I nodded, my mind still elsewhere. That's when I noticed Detective Pierce walking past the food hall. My body tensed as his gaze briefly met mine before moving on. Mrs. Liu let out a long sigh.

"Young lady, how do you manage it?" she asked, eyeing me curiously.

"Manage what?" I replied, slightly puzzled.

"Castor, Tom, and now this one," she gestured subtly towards the direction Pierce had gone. "Yesterday, I heard Tom begging you to stay in the megablock. I know Castor's looks when he's interested in someone. But the old one? You do have a taste."

I choked on my noodles at her comment, coughing as I tried to regain my composure. Mrs. Liu handed me a glass of water with an amused look.

"He was here yesterday, watching Uncle Chen's stall, almost through the entire party," she added, watching me closely.

I took a sip of water, my mind racing. Pierce was here yesterday? Watching Uncle Chen's stall? Why? What did all this mean?

I tried to avoid looking directly at Detective Pierce again, focusing instead on Mrs. Liu. "Did you recognize him when he was here yesterday?" I asked, my voice low.

Mrs. Liu shook her head. "No, but I noticed Uncle Chen. He seemed a bit nervous, kept glancing over at him." Her observation added another layer of mystery to the situation.

Just then, a message from TriColor Corp popped up in the corner of my vision. Ethan was awaiting my answer. I ignored it for now; there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Mrs. Liu, do you have any idea where I can find Uncle Chen? He's not answering his comlink," I inquired, feeling a growing sense of urgency.

She paused, thinking. "Well, today is a special day for him. He might be at the Crystal City Memorial Park. He usually spends the whole day there."

"Memorial Park?" I echoed, surprised. "Are you sure?"

Mrs. Liu nodded. "Almost certain. He goes there to visit his kids."

"Kids?" I was taken aback. "Not his wife?"

"All his family," Mrs. Liu said softly. "They're all laid to rest there. A sad story."

I remained silent for a moment, processing this new information. I remembered Chen once mentioning his deceased wife but never his children. "Do you know anything about it?" I ventured cautiously.

Mrs. Liu met my gaze and replied, "If Chen didn't tell you, then it's not my place to say. He's a private man about his past."

I nodded in understanding, respecting Chen's privacy. Finishing my noodles, I stood up, thanking Mrs. Liu for the meal, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and theories. The robbery at my flat, Tom's mysterious absence, and now Uncle Chen's apparent connection to Detective Pierce – could they all be pieces of the same puzzle? "Focus, Marlene," I chided myself silently.

The corridor came alive as I stepped out of the food hall. Neon lights flickered overhead like artificial stars, casting a mix of colors that danced across the metallic walls. The mingled scents of street food – fried noodles, grilled meats, and spicy sauces – filled the air.

If anyone had some insight into the detective's sudden interest, it would likely be Tom. But then, there was the security footage from the building's administration, supposedly proving no one had entered my apartment. To really understand what it showed, I'd need a netrunner, someone who could dive deep into the building's security system.

"No, not him," I muttered, my thoughts drifting to a particular person from my past, someone I had promised myself I would never return to. The very idea made me uneasy.

Around me, the corridor buzzed with life momentarily distracting me from my troubled thoughts.

The TV screen above the stall transitioned from a flashy cyberpunk advert to a news segment. "A.R.E.S Corp is set to revolutionize cybernetics," the anchor announced, but her words were just background noise to the storm in my head.

I was immediately engulfed in the hustle and bustle of the megablock. People hustled past, each absorbed in their world, unaware of the turmoil brewing in mine. I stopped for a moment, taking in the sights and sounds of the building around me.

Seeing the security footage was crucial, but accessing the building's security system without a netrunner was a risk. The person I was considering contacting, I had sworn off, suddenly seemed like my only viable option.