The head of the game department was, at this point, in no mood to chat with Myron Keyes at all.
He was actually one of the earliest people to learn that his department was about to be acquired by Nintendo.
And he had also learned the true identity behind Nintendo long before anyone else.
Because he knew all this, he had been extremely excited and had done everything possible to keep all the employees from resigning. If money ran short, he had even been prepared to front some of it himself.
Nintendo had promised that once the acquisition was completed, all back pay from this period would be fully covered.
With that guarantee in place, this game department head had already completely severed his emotional ties with Mikuford.
He didn't understand why Myron Keyes was suddenly seeking him out again.
If nothing unexpected happened, in just over ten days their department would be fully split off and become an independent company, almost entirely free from Mikuford's control.
Fine. I'll just act a little more hypocritical for now. Look weaker. Don't let him see how eager I am to leave and be acquired.
After all, Nintendo still hadn't given a final confirmation yet—he needed to stay patient.
When he heard Myron Keyes asking about Fortnite, he froze for a moment.
But he quickly put on a dejected expression—the kind of look someone has when they're about to become a homeless stray, utterly indifferent to everything.
Seeing that expression, Myron Keyes didn't dare say much more.
He knew full well that this man's discouragement was entirely his own doing.
Pushing him any further might drive him to extremes, and that wouldn't end well.
"So, boss… what exactly do you want to know about Fortnite?" the department head asked.
"Ahem. Have you looked into the possibility of Fortnite launching on the Mikuford platform?" Myron Keyes asked cautiously.
"Uh… I guess I've heard something about it. But what does that have to do with me?"
Myron Keyes frowned slightly. Even though this man was technically still his subordinate, he clearly didn't care anymore.
Suppressing his irritation, Myron Keyes said, "From the perspective of a game industry professional—how much potential do you think this game has?"
"Potential?" The department head scoffed. "Do you even need to ask? The entire internet is flooded with information about this game."
"Yes, I know. I just… can't really understand it myself. That's why I want a professional perspective. I'd appreciate it if you could explain it to me in more detail."
Internally, the department head sneered.
So now you're treating me like a human being and talking nicely, huh?
Where was this attitude back when you were running everything by decree?
But he didn't say that out loud.
"Boss, to be honest, even from a professional standpoint, it's hard to fully describe this game. There's only one way for you to truly understand it."
"What way?" Myron Keyes asked, intrigued.
"Play it yourself. Video games only make sense once you actually play them."
"That won't work for me," Myron Keyes replied. "Very few games have ever interested me. You know that. The only game I've ever truly liked is Tetris."
The department head shrugged. "Well, if that's how you feel, there's nothing I can do. Clearly, your view of video games hasn't changed in decades."
He paused, then added bluntly, "Honestly, boss, one of the reasons our game department failed is because of you."
Myron Keyes' expression shifted repeatedly.
He was furious—but at the same time, there was little he could do about it.
Fire him?
The man probably wouldn't care in the slightest. Worse, firing him would mean paying a hefty severance package.
That was the reality of someone with nothing left to lose.
It was suffocating.
Being a boss and feeling this stifled—Myron Keyes hoped this would be the last time.
Suppressing his anger, he said, "So what you're saying is that I have to personally experience Fortnite to understand why it became popular? But even if I play it, I might still not get it."
"Don't jump to conclusions," the department head replied calmly. "Just try it first."
Myron Keyes fell silent for a moment, then finally nodded helplessly. "Alright."
Seeing that, the department head stood up. "Anything else, boss?"
"Yes. There is."
"What now?" The department head was starting to lose patience.
After all, you were the one who wanted to kick us out in the first place.
"I want you to play the game with me—Fortnite. It doesn't have to be long. I'll pay you extra separately. I think if a professional plays with me and explains things along the way, I might understand the game better."
The department head looked at Myron Keyes in surprise.
Did this guy change overnight?
No. That was impossible given his personality.
Which meant there was only one explanation.
He was really coveting Fortnite.
And he desperately wanted it on the Mikuford platform.
This game brought traffic by default.
Making money was secondary—what mattered was drawing more attention to Mikuford's hardware ecosystem.
Having spent years struggling in middle management, the department head might not have risen far, but he understood upper management's thinking instantly.
"You're a newbie, right?" he asked.
"So what if I am? Can't a newbie play?" Myron Keyes snapped.
"That's not the issue," the department head replied. "But if you're a newbie, I'll need some compensation—for mental stress and for teaching you. I won't even charge a companion fee."
Wow. You're really asking for it.
Myron Keyes was speechless.
It was clear there was no personal rapport left between them.
Even their superior–subordinate relationship had completely collapsed.
"Fine," Myron Keyes said. "What do you want?"
"How about one hundred thousand dollars?"
One hundred thousand dollars—roughly the monthly salary of ten programmers.
"…Fine!"
Playing the game was secondary. What mattered was having a professional explain the appeal clearly.
Anyone else probably wouldn't be able to explain it properly.
"Alright then," the department head said. "Boss, get four computers ready. I'll bring two subordinates along. This game is best with four people. We'll play the most popular battle royale mode—no problem, right?"
"No problem."
The department head left quickly, while Myron Keyes went to prepare four computers.
What annoyed him most was that he had to specially prepare four Morgan Group DOS-system machines, all with high-end configurations.
Damn it.
While Myron Keyes was making preparations, the department head didn't return to the game department right away.
Instead, he found a secluded spot and took out his phone.
He dialed a number known only to a handful of people—Takayuki's private line.
At this moment, the game department head was effectively Takayuki's undercover agent within Mikuford.
The call connected.
His previously indifferent attitude vanished instantly, replaced by enthusiasm.
"Hello? Mr. Takayuki? I have something very important to report to you."