137th floor, Interastral Peace Corporation headquarters.
The moment the elevator doors opened, Scott straightened his back without thinking.
He had only ever seen this corridor in the company's internal promotional videos.
Portraits of the corporation's founding elders lined the walls, and at the far end stood the nerve center of all power within Interastral Peace Corporation: the boardroom.
"Mr. Scott, right this way."
The secretary guiding him wore a practiced professional smile and gestured politely ahead.
Scott gave a nod and did his best to keep his stride unhurried and composed. His heart was beating fast, but it was the beat of excitement.
He followed her through the corridor. She pushed open a heavy wooden door.
Around the circular conference table sat twelve people. Twelve faces Scott had only ever seen in internal company files. Now, every single one of them was looking at him.
At the head of the table, the white-haired old man slowly raised his eyes.
"Mr. Scott."
His voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly through the open room. "Sit."
Scott drew a quiet breath and walked to the seat that had been reserved for him. It was close to the head of the table, close enough that his heart picked up another half-beat.
He sat down, a polished smile on his face, and waited for the good news he had long been anticipating.
The old man regarded him in silence for a few seconds. Those few seconds were enough to make the air in the room feel inexplicably heavy.
Then the old man spoke.
"Mr. Scott, I have a question for you."
Scott inclined his head slightly. "Please, Chairman."
"Mr. Scott, do you know that there are some walls in this world that are not meant to be climbed?"
Scott's heart skipped a beat.
But his smile didn't flicker. He knew this kind of opening all too well. People in positions of power loved to use lines like this to probe the ambition and loyalty of those beneath them. He had the standard answer memorized cold.
"You're absolutely right, Chairman." He bowed his head respectfully. "Advancement in one's career must be grounded in ethics and in the rules. I have always held myself to that standard and never dared to overstep."
He looked up, his expression open and sincere.
The old man gave a quiet laugh.
"Ethics," he repeated, as though tasting something with a strange flavor. "Rules."
He picked up a document from the table and opened it.
"Mr. Scott. Do you know this person?"
The file was slid across to Scott. It was a personnel record. In the photo, a young woman stared into the camera, her face expressionless.
Name: Bronya Zaychik.
Scott's pulse began to climb.
But his smile held steady. "Yes, I know of her. A student of Anti-Entropy Group founder Welt Yang. A capable young person."
The old man said nothing and pushed a second file across.
The girl in this photo was smiling brightly, with a boldness that seemed to come naturally to her.
Name: Kiana Kaslana.
Scott's smile stiffened for just a fraction of a second.
He recovered quickly.
"Her too. An ordinary game artist. I looked into her background. The Kaslana name sounds impressive, but she's just a minor branch of the family, one that's never been given much standing.
She's spent most of her life wandering around outside their circles, with no real connection to the core. That relative of hers, Principal Theresa, holds a title at the Schicksal Group but nothing more. No actual authority to speak of."
He paused, a quiet confidence settling into his tone. "Chairman, rest assured, I investigated thoroughly. That Kiana isn't going to cause any real trouble."
The old man looked at him, and something complicated entered his expression. It resembled pity. Or perhaps a kind of restrained weariness.
"Not going to cause any real trouble," he echoed.
He pressed a button on the table surface. The large screen on the wall came to life.
It was divided into three sections.
On the left was a social media interface. Verified account: Ēden. A post, just published, already past three million shares:
"I've heard some unpleasant things recently. Someone has been using underhanded tactics to hurt my friend Elysia, and to harm a young studio that genuinely cares about the games it makes.
I want to say this clearly: whoever you are, whoever is behind you, if you come after the people I care about, be prepared to pay for it.
Also, @UndertheStellarSky, I listened to your game's soundtrack. There's potential, but it's not there yet. Let's find a time to talk. I have some thoughts that might be useful."
The comments section beneath it had already erupted: fans rallying in fury, mocking the trolls, throwing their support behind the game, offering words of comfort to Elysia. It was a sea of noise.
In the center panel was a screenshot of a business intelligence report.
"The Schicksal Group has announced it will reassess all cooperative projects with Interastral Peace Corporation.
Additionally, all media channels under the Schicksal Group will run dedicated coverage on the coordinated malicious attacks recently carried out against Honkai Impact 3rd online, exposing the methods used by those behind them."
Below the text was a photograph. A small-statured woman stood at the entrance of the Schicksal Group's headquarters, facing the camera with a smile that was entirely at odds with her delicate appearance.
On the right was a second intelligence report.
"The Anti-Entropy Group has announced the suspension of three major cooperative projects currently in negotiation with Interastral Peace Corporation. Group founder Welt Yang has issued the following statement: 'The students I have taught are not there to be bullied.'"
Scott's pupils contracted sharply.
The screen kept scrolling. At the bottom was an online sentiment monitoring report.
"Under the Stellar Sky Studio has submitted a complete chain of evidence to the cybersecurity authorities, alleging that Interastral Peace Corporation employee Scott organized a coordinated online harassment campaign and engaged in commercial defamation.
Evidence includes full communication records with four separate troll networks, as well as documentation of malicious content targeting multiple streamers and ordinary players."
At the bottom of the report was the official intake stamp of the cybersecurity division.
Scott's lips began to go dry.
He snapped his head up and looked at the old man sitting at the head of the table.
The old man's gaze rested on him, perfectly still.
"Mr. Scott. You told me you had investigated thoroughly. You told me that Kiana wouldn't cause any real trouble, that Principal Theresa was nothing more than a figurehead."
He paused.
"Then can you tell me," he said, gesturing toward the three items on the screen, each one sufficient on its own to destroy Scott completely, "what exactly is all of this?"
Scott opened his mouth. No sound came out.
In the boardroom, twelve pairs of eyes settled on him. In those eyes were mockery, cold scrutiny, and something else more prevalent: the particular downward gaze of people in power watching an insect that has mindlessly tried to crawl above its station.
"Mr. Scott."
The old man rose slowly and walked to the window, turning his back to the room.
"Do you know why I had you brought here?"
Scott didn't answer. He had no answer to give.
"Because I wanted to see for myself. I wanted to watch a man who has 'climbing higher' carved into his very bones discover that the wall he has been scaling is, in fact, a cliff. I wanted to see what expression he would make."
He turned and looked at Scott.
There was no emotion in that gaze at all.
"Now I've seen it."
He walked toward the door. Before pushing it open, he said one final thing. "Mr. Scott, you're fired. The people from the cybersecurity division will be waiting for you outside. Good luck."
The door opened. Then it closed.
Scott was left alone in the boardroom.
He stared at the empty conference table, at the intelligence reports still scrolling across the screen.
Then his phone buzzed.
It was a message from the team leader overseeing the Honkai Impact 3rd project.
"Mr. Scott! This is bad! All the troll networks have turned on us! They're saying they'll hand over everything to the police in exchange for reduced sentences! And Elysia's fans have started flooding every platform, our people can't contain it at all! And Ēden posted! Ēden weighed in! And somehow Destiny and Anti-Entropy have joined forces out of nowhere! Mr. Scott, what do we do?!"
Scott stared at the message for a long time.
He thought of the flattering smiles on his subordinates' faces before he had stepped into the elevator.
He thought of his father, sitting in a prison cell, raising a glass in his direction.
He thought of all the years he had spent clawing his way up, the bodies he had stepped on, the blood that had been spilled along the way.