Myron Keyes suppressed the dissatisfaction in his heart.
"Mr. Nintendo, may I ask for the reason?"
"There's no other reason," Takayuki replied calmly. "It's simply because you never liked video games, and for the sake of your company's own interests, you directly abandoned your game division. I can only say that kind of behavior is extremely cold-blooded."
Myron Keyes' expression changed.
Damn it—he hadn't expected Nintendo to be an idealist.
Seeing peers being crushed clearly rubbed him the wrong way.
But at this point, it was impossible for Myron Keyes to go back and reinstate the game division.
Even if he did, the department had long since lost its sense of belonging. There would be no loyalty left.
He had chosen to split it off precisely because video games annoyed him.
And now… he had to turn around and rely on the user base brought in by video games.
"Mr. Nintendo, I don't deny that I once looked down on video games, but that doesn't mean I despise the entire gaming industry. I was once crushed by video games myself—if anything, I should be considered a failure who had no choice but to withdraw from the industry."
Myron Keyes shifted tactics, trying to play the sympathy card.
Unfortunately, Takayuki only found it amusing.
"I can't agree to the terms of a company that exploits people, no matter how preferential they seem. You know, I was once an indie game developer. I'm an idealist."
"I understand," Myron Keyes said quickly. "That's exactly why I admire people like you."
If Myron Keyes had any other choice, he would have stood up and walked out right then and there.
But circumstances forced his hand.
"Your admiration means nothing to me," Takayuki said bluntly. "I don't need it. You're shedding crocodile tears—do you really think I'd believe you?"
Myron Keyes took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice. "Then what do you propose, Mr. Nintendo? You can tell me whatever you want. As long as it's within my ability, I'll do everything I can to satisfy it."
As long as he could get Fortnite into his hands.
Takayuki assumed a contemplative pose, as if seriously weighing the pros and cons.
Myron Keyes knew that saying too much now would only make the man across from him dislike him more. All he could do was wait—patiently.
"Actually, launching on Mikuford isn't impossible," Takayuki said at last. "You just need to add one more condition."
"What condition?" Myron Keyes immediately perked up.
"Your game division is almost fully split off, right? Why don't you just package the whole department and sell it to me?"
"Sell it as a package? That would at least cost—"
"About five hundred million dollars."
Takayuki raised three fingers. "Three hundred million. That's my price. In return, I'll let Fortnite launch on your platform. As for revenue sharing, I can make some concessions—we take eighty-five percent, you take fifteen."
Myron Keyes wanted to reject it on the spot.
But Takayuki didn't give him the chance.
"And there's more," Takayuki continued. "Our company will definitely diversify in the future. Fortnite alone isn't enough. There will be more outstanding games down the line. I can guarantee that all future Nintendo titles will launch simultaneously on your platform."
Myron Keyes' eyes lit up.
That condition was much more attractive.
Still, he asked cautiously, "Will these projects you're talking about be announced anytime soon?"
Takayuki smiled slightly and pulled a few sheets of paper from a folder beside him.
"You can take a look at this."
Myron Keyes focused his gaze. Written on the pages were several game titles along with brief descriptions:
A highly interactive online role-playing game: Guild Wars
A brand-new genre: MOBA game DOTA
A casual social mini-game collection: Farm, Factory, Friends' Showdowns
The projects varied in scale. Beneath each was a short explanation of its selling points and estimated stable user base.
The more Myron Keyes read, the more excited he became.
If these games could launch on Mikuford and even achieve the results described, the platform could operate steadily for years.
If these plans had come from another company, he would've been suspicious.
But they came from Nintendo—the company that had already produced a blockbuster.
That made them far more credible.
Even in the worst case, they wouldn't perform terribly.
"Are these games already in development?" Myron Keyes asked.
"Yes," Takayuki nodded.
In reality, they had just been added to a folder.
Whether they'd actually be developed was a question for later.
An intense struggle erupted inside Myron Keyes.
He weighed the pros and cons, trying to decide whether this deal was viable.
In the end, the voice in his heart said: Do it.
The game division had no value left.
Forcing it back would only recover a barely break-even department—one he'd still have to fund.
But this really was a fire-sale price.
Back when he'd built the department, he'd spent at least two billion dollars.
Not to mention the continued investment afterward.
Three hundred million—for everything. Staff, IPs, all of it.
"I need some time to think," Myron Keyes said.
Takayuki immediately stood up. "Then there's no need to see you out. And there's no need to think further—Fortnite won't be launching on your platform."
Myron Keyes' composure cracked.
This Nintendo guy was completely impervious.
He'd already made so many concessions, yet the other side didn't care at all.
Then he thought of Nintendo's backer.
The former richest man—Lorenzo.
That explained everything.
They had the capital to be arrogant.
"Fine!" Myron Keyes said through clenched teeth. "Three hundred million. I'll make the call. Normally I'd have to answer to the shareholders, but since you're such an idealist, Mr. Nintendo, I'll satisfy you!"
Takayuki smiled. "Excellent. Then let's sign the contract."
He suddenly produced a contract from the side.
It was the acquisition agreement for Mikuford's game division—prepared long ago and ready to be merged with this deal.
Myron Keyes opened his mouth, then closed it again.
So Nintendo had planned this all along.
He'd wanted to take the game division for himself from the very beginning.
Myron Keyes desperately wanted to renegotiate—at least squeeze out a bit more money.
But he could sense it clearly: if he pushed further, the other side might walk away immediately.
Right now, he was the one begging for Fortnite to come to Mikuford.
Staring at the contract, Myron Keyes hesitated.
But Takayuki gave him only this one chance.
If it didn't work out, Takayuki would simply abandon the IPs and recruit Mikuford's game developers directly.
A little regrettable—but acceptable.