"Myron Keyes wants to try my game?"
Takayuki found it a little amusing as he listened to the description on the phone.
That Myron Keyes—the guy who had always looked down on video games—now wanted to actively play one himself?
But the department head quickly explained that Myron Keyes had actually tried quite a few games in the past. The only one he had ever been able to stick with long-term was Tetris.
He wasn't interested in other elimination-style games similar to Tetris either—only Tetris itself. It was his one true love.
That was why Myron Keyes had always wanted to obtain the rights to Tetris. Unfortunately for him, Takayuki was never going to let that go.
Later on, Myron Keyes had also tried top-tier titles like Cyberpunk, Super Mario, and Pokémon.
But none of them held his interest.
Was he a casual-game player?
Yet he wasn't interested in other casual games either—only Tetris. It was genuinely hard to understand.
Takayuki said, "This is a good opportunity. Do everything you can to make Myron Keyes firmly believe that if he doesn't secure this game, he'll suffer massive losses. Make him desperate to obtain the licensing. If I'm not mistaken, if you handle this well, the acquisition process will speed up."
Hearing this, the department head was instantly energized. He quickly assured him, "Don't worry, boss. Just watch my performance. With your words, I know exactly what I need to do next."
With that, he hurriedly hung up the phone and went back to his game department to gather people.
He needed to bring a few colleagues to accompany Myron Keyes in playing the game.
At this point, he was convinced that as long as he kept Myron Keyes satisfied, the man would willingly sell the game department to Nintendo.
Even if that meant losing his position as department head and no longer being part of management, he felt it was all worth it.
Besides, he had always believed he wasn't really cut out to be a manager anyway.
Takayuki had already promised him that even if he didn't stay in management in the future, Nintendo would still give him a position—being kept on the payroll was fine, too. After all, he'd be considered a contributor.
That was why he was putting in so much effort.
"Later, when we're with our boss, follow my lead," the department head instructed. "Praise this game as much as possible in front of him, and casually bring up the Fortnite data you've gathered. As long as we overwhelm that bastard Myron Keyes with praise, we'll be free sooner."
The department head knew that the true person in control of Nintendo was Takayuki. The others didn't know yet, but they were already aware that as long as they didn't resign, they'd have a decent future waiting for them.
So they were patient. Worst case, they'd just find new jobs later.
"Got it, BOSS! We'll act the part perfectly!" one of them replied enthusiastically.
The department head nodded, then added, "Oh right—when you go in, make sure you look dejected at first. The kind of expression that says, 'We're only here because you're paying us—otherwise we wouldn't even glance at a trash boss like you.'"
"You don't even need to tell us that, BOSS. We've hated that bastard Myron Keyes for a long time now."
They all had to admit that Myron Keyes was a genius, a man with vision—but he was also a bastard.
A complete bastard.
Cold-blooded toward everyone around him.
They'd been fed up for a long time.
After coordinating everything, the group walked back into Myron Keyes' office together.
Inside, four laptops had already been prepared.
They'd been temporarily borrowed from other departments. Having to use competitors' hardware inside his own company made Myron Keyes extremely uncomfortable.
Under normal circumstances, he would've scolded anyone who dared use another company's products inside Mikuford.
But now, he didn't dare say much—after all, he was the one asking for help.
"Alright, I've prepared four machines. Come and show me how to play Fortnite."
The department head entered calmly, while the other two wore exaggeratedly dejected expressions.
Myron Keyes didn't think much of it. It never crossed his mind that someone would deliberately act miserable in front of him.
Still, when Fortnite was mentioned, the two gloomy employees perked up slightly.
"Boss, let me tell you—if you hadn't begged us to come and promised extra pay, the two of us wouldn't even be here," one of them said bluntly.
The other immediately echoed, "That's right. We're only here because of you, boss."
Myron Keyes looked a little awkward.
The department head said sternly, "Alright, you're getting paid to play games and you're still unhappy? Didn't you two say you're the best Fortnite players around? Show me what you've got today."
"Hmph, of course," they replied.
The three of them sat down, and Myron Keyes took a seat in front of one laptop. The four entered Fortnite together.
"Huh? Myron Keyes, your account data on this computer is pretty impressive. You've got more than a dozen crossover skins—Star Ocean Infinity, Cosmic Adventure, Berserker Warrior… Man, I really wanted that Berserker Warrior skin back then."
"You really wanted it?" Myron Keyes looked at the character on his screen.
The character looked like a Viking-era pirate warrior, with two axes strapped to his back, fierce and intimidating.
But under the cartoon-style rendering, that ferocity turned into something oddly cute.
"Is this skin hard to get?" Myron Keyes asked.
"Yeah. It was the final reward of the last season's battle pass. I bought the pass too late, otherwise I would've gotten it as well," one employee said regretfully.
Another employee bragged proudly, "Heh, I played every single day back then."
Played every day. A battle pass. Paid content. And apparently very popular. Plus, someone who played Fortnite daily.
All these pieces came together in Myron Keyes' mind, forming the outline of a blockbuster game.
"How much does this battle pass cost?" Myron Keyes asked casually.
"It's actually pretty cheap. One season lasts three months, and the battle pass covers the whole season. Thirty dollars is enough."
Confused, Myron Keyes said, "But isn't this a free game? Being free doesn't affect gameplay at all."
"But it looks good."
"But it's virtual."
"But it looks good."
"If the game shuts down one day, won't all of this disappear?"
"But it looks good."
Myron Keyes was speechless.
He genuinely couldn't understand how game players thought.
Virtual items. No tangible benefit. And people were still willing to spend money on them.
At least in Candy Color Splash, spending money actually had an effect.
Now he finally understood how Fortnite made so much money.
With over forty million registered players, even if just one-tenth of them bought the battle pass, that would already be a massive revenue stream.
And more importantly—it was stable.
Every three months, another harvest.
Players' money was really easy to earn.
Why hadn't his game department ever managed to make a game like this?