Initially, Lian was smoked awake by the strong, burnt smell of cheap instant coffee.
But his consciousness hadn't fully struggled out of a chaotic dream, and his eyelids felt as heavy as lead.
His head throbbed, and his temples pulsed rhythmically.
Struggling to lift his eyelids, his vision was a blur of indistinct colors.
A few seconds later, an unfamiliar ceiling came into focus.
It wasn't the ceiling of his familiar apartment, which was plastered with various game posters.
The ceiling was deathly white, a bit too flat, and in the corner, one could even see a small map-like pattern formed by water stains.
His body felt stiff and uncomfortable against the hard surface.
Lian tried to move, and the bed beneath him emitted an overburdened creak.
It wasn't a bed.
He finally woke up completely and sat up abruptly.
The sudden movement make his vision momentarily blacked out. After a couple of seconds, he could finally see his surroundings clearly.
This was a... place that could tentatively be called an office.
The space wasn't large, about twenty square meters or so, and the lighting was somewhat dim.
A few computer towers were piled against the wall. The monitors were brand new, but scattered next to them were power strips and tangled data cables.
On several simple desks lay unfinished original art drafts and printer paper covered in messy code.
There were also a few crushed soda cans.
In the corner, a half-dead pothos plant had leaves whose edges were starting to yellow and curl.
And he had just been curled up on the only old sofa in the office that looked capable of being slept on, its armrests worn down to the sponge.
He was covered with a wrinkled jacket printed with a blurry anime character.
Memories, like ice water being forced in, crashed into his mind, bringing a sharp, stinging pain.
This world... was not his home-world.
This body was also named Lian, the owner and lead designer of a small independent game Studio.
The Studio name... "Starlight."
And he seemed to have a somewhat still stuck with a nickname from his university day—"Captain."
But what made his heart suddenly tighten was another set of memories that followed immediately.
About the background of this world, about "games."
There was no MiHoYo. No Honkai Impact 3rd. No Genshin Impact.
And certainly no Astral Express traversing the Galaxy with its Trailblazers.
Those worlds that once had him fighting through the night, laughing and crying, and investing untold amounts of time and money.
Here, there wasn't even a trace of their existence.
In their place, the mainstream of this world's games were: realistic simulation management?
Hardcore historical strategy?
Or some... reskinned mobile games with gameplay so singular it was appalling.
He, or rather the self of this world, had exhausted his passion and...
Well, looking at this environment, he had probably also exhausted much of his family fortune to pull together this "Starlight" Studio.
There weren't many members, but...
His gaze swept over the several figures either slumped over or leaning back in the office.
At the desk by the window sat a young man, sitting perfectly straight.
He was frowning at the lines of code on the screen, his profile sharp and clean.
Dan Heng.
Memory told him this was his university roommate, his best friend in tech.
He was also one of the technical cores of the Studio now.
According to reliable rumors (mostly blurted out by March 7th), Dan Heng had already privately contacted a future employer.
He had even reserved spots for this "Captain" and everyone else in the Studio—a true model of a brother.
Next to Dan Heng, a gray-haired girl's head was nodding, almost hitting the keyboard; her hair was a bit messy and sticking up.
Stelle.
Originally, "Lian" had used lines like "We are going to create an unprecedented galactic epic."
"You are the most crucial morning star of our Studio," using such chuunibyou-level rhetoric to trick her into joining.
Looking at it now, the morning star was about to flame out.
Directly facing his sofa, a pink-haired girl, March 7th, was resting her chin on her hand.
She was boredly twirling a stylus in her hand, occasionally glancing at her phone.
Her face was written with "Who am I, where am I, when can I leave this crappy job."
She had been dragged in by Stelle with the promise that "they provide meals (meaning occasional takeout) and the boss's 'pie-in-the-sky' promises are particularly delicious."
There were three more girls...
Memories flooded in, bringing more complex and subtle emotions. Kiana Kaslana, Raiden Mei, and Bronya Zaychik.
Nominally, they were the Studio's artists and designers, but in reality...
Kiana was currently slumped ungracefully in another chair, wearing headphones, her fingers tapping rapidly on her phone screen.
Mei sat quietly beside her, a sketchbook spread out in front of her, but the tip of her pen hadn't moved for a long time.
She was just staring out the window, lost in thought.
Bronya sat in a slightly more distant corner, under her silver-gray hair.
A pair of slightly weary lake-blue eyes were focused intently on her keyboard.
They were all "Lian's" childhood friends.
To be more specific, Kiana and Mei were the kind of super-rich young ladies from wealthy family with multinational corporations behind them.
Their staying here was less for an ideal...
And more for... well, certain blurry fragments in his memory and their occasionally meaningful gazes.
They pointed to another possibility—waiting for the Studio to go bankrupt, and then "reluctantly" picking him up.
While they were at it, they could solve some emotional "multiple-choice questions."
Bronya's situation was slightly different; her love for games themselves seemed more pure.
But the current bleak state of the Studio clearly had her worried as well.
His gaze finally fell on the mottled desk in front of him. Several documents were scattered there.
On the very top, several bolded characters on the cover made his eyes sting:
"Preliminary Opinion on Asset Liquidation and Debt Assessment of 'Starlight' Studio"
Pressed underneath were bank collection notices, a landlord's ultimatum, and a handwritten note.
It was Dan Heng's handwriting, concisely listing the names and contact information of several companies that might take them in.
The last one even had a small asterisk after it, with a note: "The benefits at this one are decent, I've had preliminary communication, you can contact them anytime."
Bankruptcy. Closure. Packing up. Splitting up.
––+––
Author/Note:
First of all, this book is just for fun.
If my writing were top-tier, I wouldn't be writing on Fnqe. If you're looking for smut or an overpowered protagonist power trip, you can leave now.
Some chapters will definitely have 'poison' plot points. If the writing is bad or not good, say so in the comments, and I'll change it.
Even if I have to rewrite a whole chapter, I won't complain; in fact, I'd have to say thank you.
Finally, Fnqe books are all free. If they cost money, who would read them? It's already like panning for gold in a ten-mile river, so don't leave those brain-dead reviews.
Like 'thanks for testing the poison for us' or whatever.