For three straight days, Vivian Frost was in an exceptionally good mood.
Every morning, without fail, she would open the backend dashboard and stare at the steadily climbing sales numbers. And every time she did, the same thought returned to her mind:
Not rejecting Ethan Reed.
Not kicking that intern out.
Those were the best decisions she had ever made for Northstar Games.
The success of Getting Over It—no, its outright explosion in popularity—was something Vivian had never anticipated. At first, she had thought it would be a niche product at best, something strange and experimental that might barely recover costs.
But after Ethan patiently explained the logic behind it, everything clicked.
Streamer effect.
The game was practically tailor-made for live streaming. Watching someone else suffer, rage, laugh, and fail spectacularly created an irresistible pull. Viewers laughed at streamers falling over and over again, then thought:
If they're having this much "fun," why not try it myself?
And fifteen yuan for a copy?
That wasn't even the price of a decent lunch.
Because of this, in just four days, Getting Over It had crossed seventy thousand copies sold.
When Vivian realized that number, she nearly laughed out loud in her office.
After Skybound took its platform cut, each copy still brought in around twelve yuan.
Twelve yuan.
That was the price of a full plate of rice with toppings.
Vivian did the math in her head, her imagination instantly derailing.
How many meals was that? How many bowls of rice? How many months of survival had this game bought her company?
She arrived at the office earlier than usual that morning, humming under her breath.
The moment she stepped inside, she spotted Ethan Reed sitting at his workstation, eyes fixed on the screen, fingers moving with focused precision.
"Boss, you're here already?" Ethan looked up. "Did you buy breakfast?"
"Buy your foot," Vivian snapped automatically—then placed the bag of bread she was holding directly onto his desk.
Ethan blinked.
"…Thanks?"
"Oh, right," Vivian added, turning toward her office. "Come to the meeting room later. We need a meeting."
Ethan froze, bread still half-opened.
"Uh… it's just the two of us in the company. Do we really need a meeting room?"
Vivian stopped, turned around, and rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck.
"It's about ceremony, okay? What, are we supposed to hold a formal meeting right here like a roadside stall?"
She walked off, white dress swaying lightly.
Half an hour later, the two of them sat across from each other in the meeting room.
Vivian cleared her throat loudly.
She crossed her legs and deliberately adopted a 'CEO posture.'
Her fair calves were exposed beneath the hem of her white dress, clean canvas shoes resting neatly on the floor. Pink lace socks peeked out as she leaned back slightly, projecting authority with every fiber of her being.
"Ethan," she said seriously, "there are only two people left in this company. We urgently need to hire staff. What do you think?"
Ethan stared at her for a second.
"…I get a say in hiring too?"
"What do you mean 'too'?" Vivian snapped instantly, her boss aura collapsing on the spot. "It's your team! Of course I'm asking you!"
She slapped the table lightly.
"Skybound will transfer the money next month. We need to hire people—and we need to prepare the second game. You didn't forget that, did you?"
Ethan glanced at his internal emotion-point tally, then back at Vivian. His lips twitched.
"Stop smiling like that," Vivian warned. "It's disgusting."
Ethan coughed lightly and became serious.
"For hiring—artists first. As for programmers, two or three should be enough."
The truth was, he already had far more than enough ideas.
In just four days, Getting Over It had generated nearly twelve thousand emotion points.
That amount could be exchanged for two games of similar scale.
But Ethan knew better than to repeat the same trick.
Human emotion had limits.
Annoyance could turn into disgust.
And disgust turned players away permanently.
If Northstar Games became known as that company that only torments players, then it wouldn't matter how clever the designs were.
So the second game had to be different.
Not frustration.
Maybe… sadness? Reflection? Immersion?
"Alright," Vivian nodded. "I'll arrange hiring next month."
The meeting ended in under ten minutes.
Vivian waved her hand dismissively. "You're free."
But Ethan didn't move.
Vivian frowned. "What now?"
"Boss," he said calmly, "shouldn't we talk about the second game?"
"…What?"
"The company's hot right now. Players who finish Getting Over It will look up Northstar Games. If all they find are our old titles, that's suicide."
Vivian froze.
Annoying.
Painfully annoying.
Ethan was calling her previous games garbage—again.
And worse?
She couldn't refute it.
A game he made in three days had outperformed years of her company's work.
No matter how much money you poured into production…
No matter how beautiful the art…
No matter how dramatic the story…
If players didn't buy it, it was trash.
Vivian ground her teeth silently.
"…Fine," she said. "What do you want?"
"I can give you a draft today."
She stared at him.
Above his head, she imagined two glowing words:
WORKAHOLIC.
One hit game wasn't enough for him. He wanted another immediately.
Her expectations skyrocketed—then she suddenly wrinkled her nose.
"Wait. Your second game isn't going to torture players again, right?"
Ethan shook his head instantly.
"No. One is enough."
"Good." Vivian nodded. "I'll be waiting."
She turned and walked back into her office, leaving Ethan alone.
Ethan returned to his seat and opened the Game Treasury.
"No impression. Skip."
"Hmm… possible."
"Not this one."
After ten minutes, he stopped.
This was it.
An independent card game from his previous life.
Most people thought of card games as PvP—players scheming against each other.
But this one?
Player versus AI.
Roguelike.
Tower-climbing.
Story-driven.
Easy to learn. Difficult to master.
And beneath its simple mechanics lay layered storytelling, hidden plots, and emotional turns.
Northstar Games needed a narrative experience.
Without hesitation, Ethan exchanged 10,000 emotion points.
Two Getting Over It worth of value.
Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes.
He grabbed his drawing tablet.
A character began to form on the screen.
A small white-haired girl.
A red hood.
Wide, expressive eyes.
She held a short sword, her face frozen in panic—yet strangely adorable.
"Oh?" a voice said behind him. "Little Red Riding Hood?"
Ethan jumped.
Vivian stood there with a cup of water, eyes sparkling.
"White-haired Little Red Riding Hood," she laughed. "If not for the hood, I wouldn't have recognized her. Why are you drawing her?"
Ethan turned the tablet toward her.
The stylus moved.
Four distorted words appeared on the screen.
"Boss, this is the heroine of our second game."
Above the girl's head, the title shimmered:
Night of the Full Moon
And Northstar Games' next legend quietly began.
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