Tea Ceremony

Clarke Hamilton quickly dismissed the notion.

He had already learned through extensive online research that to become a cyber hacker in this world, specialized prosthetics were not just helpful, they were essential.

This was not like his previous life, where all one needed to hack was a computer. In this world, prosthetics were the gateway to advanced hacking tools.

Specifically, one needed a prosthetic designed exclusively for hacking. This type involved replacing the entire back of the skull, essentially installing an electronic brain within oneself.

With such prosthetics, hackers could navigate the internet far more efficiently than ordinary people.

Those lacking hacker-specific prosthetics were relegated to using optical brain chips or other mobile devices, resulting in a vastly inferior human-computer interaction speed.

Clarke, blessed with psychic powers, faced a daunting reality: implanting such electronic prosthetics was impossible without risking burning out his own brain.

Lost in these thoughts, the light brain device in his hand buzzed subtly, jolting him back to the present. Clarke frowned, lifting his arm to see who was reaching out to him.

It was Jessica Akio, his beautiful fiancé who had left earlier that morning.

"Hey, Clarke!" Jessica's half-length projection sprang to life in his optical brain chip as the call connected. Her expression was laced with concern. "I heard you were targeted by hackers just now. Is everything okay?"

Clarke had always seen through Jessica's facade. To him, her concern seemed forced, her beauty failing to mask her insincerity.

"Yeah," Clarke nodded. "But I'm fine."

"That's a relief!" Jessica feigned concern, exhaling dramatically. Then, her lips curled into a seductive smirk. "Since you're fine, have you thought about what I mentioned this morning? How you plan to apologize to me?" She paused, her eyes gleaming. "I think the new electromagnetic sports car with the starry sky dome from Bordagoon Company would be perfect for you. You shouldn't miss this chance..."

"What apology?" Clarke asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Have you forgotten?" Jessica's voice spiked, feigning shock. "Didn't I tell you this morning? You frightened my best friend. You owe both of us an apology. I can't believe you just walked away and forgot about it!"

Clarke responded with a scoff, his skepticism clear.

Jessica Akio's demeanor shifted abruptly, her voice icy. "Why, do you actually think I care about your apology? I'm giving you opportunities, Clarke. Do you really think I'd consider marrying someone like you, with your foolishness and ineptitude?"

"Remember your promise to me?" she continued, her tone dripping with scorn. "When you stutteringly vowed to make me the happiest woman in the world, were those just empty words?"

"Truly, you men excel in nothing. Here we are, merely engaged, and you already treat me as if I own you, refusing even to appease me. What will marriage be like? Will you confine me at home, stripping away my freedom?"

"Have you said enough?" Clarke's frown deepened. He never expected to encounter such confrontation in this new world. It felt like a blow, threatening to shatter his resolve.

"Huh?" Jessica, on the other end of the chip, seemed to sense a change. She asked, surprised, "Why are you speaking to me like this? Are you really Clarke Hamilton? Or... did someone fill your head with nonsense? Let me warn you, don't neglect your condition. It won't do you any good..."

Seeing Jessica gearing up to continue, Clarke, wearied by the conversation, abruptly ended the call.

"What a nuisance," he muttered, touching his head. Though Jessica was not his fiancée in this life, he still carried the burden of their connection.

The thought left him seething, like a sheep thrown into boiling water.

"By the way, the Akio family doesn't have many heirs. If a few more were to... unexpectedly..." Clarke's thoughts took a dark turn.

The Akio family, despite their immense wealth, paled in comparison to the Hamiltons. The Akio, a recent upstart with no real background, had a mere twenty or thirty members.

To avoid being devoured by the major conglomerates, they had aligned themselves with the Higilton through marriage.

In essence, no matter the Akio' stature, they were mere pawns to the Hamiltons.

This realization sparked a daring idea in Clarke, but he quickly dismissed it. Unfamiliar with this world, he knew it was best to avoid trouble for now.

His priority was mastering his synaptic space. Once in control, he could act according to the circumstances.

Regrettably, his psychic power tests had to be put on hold. He'd have to wait until his hospital discharge.

As Clarke pondered his next move, a commotion erupted outside his door.

Frowning, annoyed at the interruption, he heard sirens and screams.

"What's going on?" Clarke inquired.

"Master, it's the relatives of the patient who passed away recently," Zomba entered, wiping blood from his mouth, his expression grave. "Our men have secured this floor after the recent attack. But three family members insisted on entering to claim the body, and we've stopped them outside."

Moved by this news, Clarke saw an opportunity to learn more about Lamton's soul in the imaginary space. "The dead deserve respect. Let them in."

"Master?" Zamba looked surprised but noticed Clarke's serious gaze and quickly complied, instructing the android troops, "Allow the three family members to enter."

As Clarke Hamilton listened, the commotion outside ceased, and two young adults, a man and a woman, cautiously entered, supporting a middle-aged man between them whom Clarke had seen earlier.

"Injured?" Clarke approached, noting the middle-aged man's bloodied face and body. He was struck by the world's power structure, where private forces could harm citizens with impunity, and police could even shoot non-citizens without consequence.

Pondering this, Clarke addressed the middle-aged man with a calm voice, "Sir, perhaps you'd like to come in and have your wounds tended to? We can also take care of your father's body."

"Get out!" The young man assisting the middle-aged man glared at Clarke with palpable hatred. "If not for your company thugs, my father wouldn't be hurt. Now you play the good samaritan?"

"Shut up!" The middle-aged man chided softly, halting the young man's harsh words. He then turned to Clarke with an apologetic smile, "Under these circumstances, we accept your offer gratefully."

"Dad?" The young man looked surprised, but eventually, unable to counter his father's decision, he reluctantly followed inside.

They were escorted to the ward's living room by a group of android troops.

"Please, take a seat," Clarke gestured towards the coffee table, his curiosity evident. "Although it might seem forward, I hold great respect for your father's life. If you're willing, I'd like to hear about him."

As he spoke, Clarke began to arrange the tea sets on the table, preparing to make tea.

"It's better for the young lady to handle such tasks," the middle-aged man suggested, adhering to traditional customs.

Clarke turned his attention to the silent young woman. She gracefully pulled back her hair and knelt by the coffee table, her hands deftly maneuvering the tea set.

She boiled water and prepared the tea with expert skill, the green leaves cascading into the teapot like silk. As she poured the water, a soothing fragrance filled the room, easing the tension.

The girl then bowed her head, quietly observing the tea leaves swirling in the pot.

Observing this, Clarke realized the significance of the tea ceremony. Society had shifted from human labor to AI productivity, allowing people to rediscover and embrace olf cultural arts like this Japanese tea ceremony called temae.

The girl, clearly skilled in the art, impressed Clarke.

"My daughter is not a master, but she does her best," the middle-aged man said with a proud smile, noting Clarke's intrigued expression.

Clarke watched the girl complete the tea ceremony, deciding not to ask about Lamton just yet. Understanding this world's culture was equally important.

After a series of meticulous steps, she poured the aromatic green tea into cups for each of them. The fragrance filled the room, creating a serene atmosphere.

Zamba, waiting nearby, glanced at the tea and nodded subtly to Clarke.

"Then I'll partake," Clarke said, lifting the cup to his lips. The tea was a blend of bitter, astringent, and sweet flavors, but more than the taste, it was the rhythm of the ceremony that enveloped Clarke, calming his anxious heart with its vague, mystical essence.