Cyberpunk City AI

The rain had slowed, but the humidity lingered, curling against the stained glass windows of the café. Strings of mismatched bulbs hung from the ceiling like tangled stars, their glow reflected in the lacquered leaves of the potted plants that seemed to grow straight out of the cracked floorboards. The sign outside just said “Nari’s”, etched by hand into a piece of old railway steel and barely visible behind the vines.

Inside, the place was chaos in the coziest way—chipped tile counters, shelves overflowing with jars of preserved fruit and synthetic spice, music playing from an old speaker with a patchy signal. People talked with their whole bodies here. Orders were shouted across the room. Someone in the corner was playing a two-string guitar made from repurposed drone parts.

And at a table near the back, almost invisible in their dark clothes and quiet presence, sat Kael, Kira, and Liora.

They didn’t look like locals. Kira’s purple hair caught the light every time she moved. Liora’s dark eyes flicked around the room like she hadn’t let her guard down in weeks. And Kael, silent as always, kept his hood up, fingers wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug.

None of them spoke much at first.

The food arrived—bitterroot noodles and something called solarfruit dumplings. Kael blinked at the color. “Are these supposed to glow?”

Kira smirked. “Only slightly.”

“Try not to think about what makes them light up,” Liora added, stabbing a dumpling with her chopsticks. “Or do. It’s probably not worse than anything we’ve eaten in the Labyrinth.”

Kael took a slow bite, then nodded once. “Not bad.”

They ate. No plotting. No maps or plans. Just three people chewing in silence while the city hummed outside.

“I forgot places like this existed,” Kira said eventually, leaning back. “That people could laugh like that. Loud, messy. Like no one’s listening.”

“No one is,” Liora replied. “That’s the point.”

Kael was watching the kitchen. A child ran by with a bowl too large for their hands, and no one yelled. In fact, someone clapped.

“You think we’d ever have a place like this?” he asked quietly.

Kira raised an eyebrow. “You mean like… run one?”

“Live near one,” he said. “Stop thinking so far ahead.”

Liora finished her tea. “I don’t think we’re built for that.”

“No,” Kira said. “But maybe we could grow into it.”

A silence passed between them—not heavy, just real. Then someone dropped a tray nearby and everyone burst into laughter, including the person who dropped it.

Kael cracked the barest smile.

“Next round’s on me,” he said.

And for a few precious moments in the cluttered glow of Nari’s, they weren’t fugitives or insurgents or memory thieves.

They were just people. Sharing a meal. Letting the city exhale around them.