"W–woo… David…"
Sobs.
Sobs.
In the dark conference room, waves of quiet sobbing echoed through the air.
Aizawa Airi was the least restrained of them all.
She had always been an extremely emotional person.
When the final ending arrived—when she watched the protagonist die under the final enemy's gunfire, and then saw the female lead, Lucy, board a spacecraft bound for the Moon, watching the protagonist's apparition running and leaping across the lunar surface—Aizawa Airi completely broke down.
In truth, even Takayuki felt a bit emotional while revisiting this story.
It had been more than twenty years since the last time he had watched this animation—that was already a matter from his previous life.
Watching it again now, he still felt that the story was genuinely excellent.
Back then, Takayuki had already considered it the best animated series of the year in his heart.
"Director Asami, you're really cruel… How could you make such a tragic story? W–woo…"
Aizawa Airi wasn't young anymore, but moving stories didn't care about age.
Growing older didn't necessarily make a person colder. She was the kind who wasn't cold at all—and was especially sensitive emotionally.
What she couldn't accept the most were stories that were this tragic.
And worst of all, almost the entire main cast was wiped out.
Asami Shinji glanced at Takayuki. Seeing no reaction from him, Asami gave a bitter smile.
"Ms. Aizawa, the story itself was meant to be this way. The purpose was to highlight the cold and brutal nature of the cyberpunk worldview. Under such a setting, this kind of ending is the most reasonable."
"But… but couldn't it have been gentler? Director Asami, you're really heartless."
"Uh… this…"
He hadn't even written the script in the first place.
That said, if he had written it himself—assuming no sequels were planned—he probably would've written something very similar.
But right now, he was clearly taking the blame for Takayuki.
Meanwhile, Takayuki was still immersed in the story itself and wasn't paying attention to what the others were discussing.
At the same time, he was thinking that once this story was released, it might pull Cyberpunk 2077's popularity back up a bit.
Nearly two months had already passed since Cyberpunk 2077 launched. Inevitably, its hype would gradually fade—players couldn't stay satisfied with just one game forever.
Unless it was a hardcore grind-heavy game or a competitive title.
In the future, Cyberpunk 2077's online mode could head in that direction.
When Takayuki finally snapped out of his thoughts, he vaguely sensed a hostile gaze fixed on him.
He raised his head and looked back.
Aizawa Airi was glaring at him angrily, as if he had personally wronged her.
"So it was you, Takayuki! No wonder everyone looked so strange just now!"
"Huh?"
Takayuki hadn't yet figured out what was going on.
"You wrote the story for Cyberpunk: Edgerunners?"
"Yes."
"And the near-total annihilation of the main cast—that was your idea too?"
"Correct."
"So that's it! Just like Final Fantasy VII back then—you were just as merciless, writing such a tragic story! And then NieR: Automata! And now Cyberpunk again! Why do you like writing such sad stories? Can't you write something happier for once?"
Takayuki shrugged. "Of course I can. Didn't I write Mario? And Dragon Quest—those have happy endings."
"But Cyberpunk: Edgerunners is way too tragic! And the endings of Cyberpunk 2077—are they similar too?"
Takayuki paused for a moment, then admitted honestly, "Yes."
"Then why do you keep writing so many tragic stories?"
"Because stories that emotionally devastate people are the easiest to spark discussion—and the easiest to remember."
"That's it? Just that?"
"That's it. Though you can't generalize everything. Some stories are destined to end in tragedy from the moment they're conceived. If they don't develop that way, they lose the very charm that defines them."
"Then tell me honestly—when you remake Final Fantasy VII, are you planning to torture players all over again?!"
Aizawa Airi stared at him intensely.
She had played the original Final Fantasy VII and had been deeply involved. She knew the entire story.
When Aerith died back then, Aizawa Airi had been heartbroken for a long time. Later, Takayuki had personally promised her that the story would have a chance to continue in the future—and that those who had once died might return to the players' view.
She had believed him.
And after the Final Fantasy VII Remake released, the story did seem to be heading in a different direction—one that might actually lead to a happy ending for everyone.
But after watching Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, Aizawa Airi started to doubt his promise.
"You can rest assured about that," Takayuki said calmly. "At least in this regard, I'm reliable. I won't casually smash my own brand. If I say there will be a happy ending, then there will be a happy ending."
Of course, tragic endings would never disappear entirely—that had always been the core of the Final Fantasy series.
The world wasn't perfect. There would always be regrets, pain—and happiness too.
After saying this, Takayuki stood up, walked to the conference room's light switch, and turned on all the lights. Then he looked at everyone and said:
"Alright. Next, everyone's going to need to work a bit harder. Cyberpunk 2077 may be about to enter another wave of popularity. When that happens, I need you to take advantage of it and release a few story side quests linked to this animation. You have half a month. Can you do it?"
"Yes!"
The producers responsible for Cyberpunk 2077's development immediately responded.
For them, this was just adding a small side quest to the game—probably without much cinematic content. It wouldn't even take half a month; a few days would be enough.
Just adding a few lines of code—easy work.
Meanwhile, Takayuki began contacting Bob at Facebook, asking him to prepare a promotional warm-up campaign for Cyberpunk: Edgerunners.
Naturally, Tokyo Television couldn't be left out either. He asked them to arrange a prime time slot to broadcast the entire Cyberpunk: Edgerunners series in a concentrated run.
Both sides agreed without hesitation.
They had already watched the animation and immediately realized that this was the best cyberpunk-style animation to appear in a long time. Being able to broadcast it on their own platforms was a perfect opportunity to boost their own popularity—there was no reason to miss it.