Chapter 302: “Let’s Create Our Own Heroine”

—

That was a memory from his “past life” he had never recalled before.

After meeting the original author—who clearly didn’t care about their project, who treated his own work with indifference, who was only concerned about money—he walked into the decaying hallway outside the office, taking a brief moment to wallow in despair.

Then, putting his glasses back on, he sat down in the conference room.

This meeting was about the “First Limited-Time Character Plan After Launch.” A critical discussion, because… well, the game might only make money from this first banner before shutting down a year later.

As the lead planner and the suddenly promoted “future producer”—now the scapegoat—he had to listen to everyone’s opinions.

The IP adaptation lead, who “knew the original work inside out”:
“This character is crucial. She needs strong ties to the original story.”

The lead writer, who had “already drafted several chapters of the main story”:
“But our game’s plot has already diverged from the original!”

The character designer, who had “strong artistic opinions”:
“The best approach is adapting existing original characters. This is just the first banner—we need to consider the overall aesthetic balance.”

…

They were serious. Just like every other meeting.

Of course, for most of them, this was just work—a way to earn a living. If the game flopped, the year-end bonuses would be gone, and the shareholders would demand answers.

But…

“Why not just release Liviana in a new limited form?”

“That’s for later—if player retention drops too much.”

“She’s the most popular Empress! Shouldn’t we build up to her?”

“What about the next most popular character?”

“Wouldn’t that make players assume every similar character is limited?! Won’t that just cause anxiety?”

…

Maybe it was because this was a hastily assembled team with many starry-eyed newcomers.

Maybe it was because some—especially the adaptation lead—genuinely loved the original novel.

Maybe it was because, regardless, this was still… creation.

They were treating this world as real—their work as something that existed.

Will watched silently. The voices around him blurred into white noise.

The more he listened, the more he thought about the original author’s dismissive “Just do whatever” attitude, the publishers who didn’t care, and the author’s “Treat this as unrelated to my work” comment—delivered through a mediator.

Was their effort—like his—ultimately meaningless?

“Will-bro? You okay?”
“You’ve been spaced out since that meeting this morning.”
“You can’t zone out now—this is important.”

Then, he realized—the lively discussion had stopped.

Everyone at the table was staring at him.

“C’mon, isn’t it nice that our usually tyrannical Will-bro is finally spacing out?”

“Yeah! And he just met with the author—maybe he’s overloaded with secret info!”

“Alright then, oh keeper of secret intel, any thoughts to unite us all?”

He looked around.

Should he tell them what the author said?

That the original creator didn’t care?

Would that actually help them? If they put in less effort, treated this as just a job, maybe they’d be happier…

“I… I think…”

Under the white fluorescent lights, he saw their faces—shining with expectation.

“We…”

Their features blurred in his memory. He couldn’t remember who was who now.

But what he recalled…

Was that everyone here, inspired by him and the departed senior, had poured their passion into this supposedly “cash-grab dumpster fire” project…

“Let’s just…”

At this moment, he swallowed the pressure from above, the pain from the hallway, the author’s disdain—all of it.

“—Let’s create our own heroine.”

The room fell silent for five solid seconds after that.

Then—

Like a chaotic meeting suddenly finding its path, like a bomb dropped into turbulent waters—

They erupted.

A completely original heroine.

“Shu is popular, but we already made him the player stand-in. What if… I mean, what if we had someone just like him, but gender-swapped?!”

“Dude, that’s wild!”

“Will-bro said to make a ‘heroine’!”
“Actually… not bad. A lot of players already want a female Shu.”

“Someone just as cool as Shu, but reckless, bold, and way more cheerful?”
“…I’m sold. I could draft her today.”
“See? The art team gets it.”

“Fine. But the best way to release her… is to make it obvious she’s Shu’s gender-swap, but never confirm it.”
“Damn, that’s evil. You just want players to speculate, huh?”
“Doable. For her card art, we should reference Shu’s most iconic pose—”

“…What about the scene where he holds a blade to Liviana’s throat—and another to his own?”

“You’re a genius.”

“Just change the POV to the player.”

Leaning back, Will rested his chin on his hand, listening to their excitement.

It was…

A ridiculous idea. Almost certainly doomed.

But watching them pour their hearts into it…

He didn’t regret swallowing the author’s words and suggesting this wild concept.

He wanted to forget that awful meeting.

To pretend this project mattered. That this world was cherished. That these characters were loved.

If possible…

He’d take the author’s cruelty to his grave.

Bearing this burden…

Was his responsibility.

—

The memory skipped. Now it was late at night, days later.

Their office was on the 20th floor. From his desk, he could see the city lights dimming as buildings powered down.

Then—

Click.

The office plunged into darkness.

The security guard, making rounds, had turned off the lights. They never noticed him in the corner.

—This happened often. He was used to it.

He didn’t move. By the glow of his monitor and a nearby idle screen, he sipped the last of his cold, bitter coffee.

Drinking coffee at midnight was strange, but caffeine didn’t affect him anymore.

He sighed.

The closer they got to launch…

The more work piled up…

The more unfinished tasks loomed…

Reviews. Configurations. Requests.

He hadn’t stuck to his strict sleep schedule in weeks.

His reflection in the mirror that morning had deep, dark circles.

But it was fine.

It’d be worth it.

At launch…

Everyone would be amazed by what they’d made.

Exhausted, even coffee couldn’t keep him awake. In the darkened office, he didn’t bother turning the lights back on. His vision narrowed, dimmed…

Then—

Ding.

The company chat pinged.

Blinking, he saw a message from the artist working on the “heroine.”

She was a night owl too—sometimes working 48 hours straight before crashing.

And attached—

A character sheet.

Black hair. Black eyes. Stylish shorts. A denim jacket. A wild, confident grin.

At first glance, she resembled Shu. But the more he looked, the more she became someone new.

Thump.

His heart lurched.

> —Are you waiting for a heroine?
> —She is strong. She is mysterious.
> —She was born for you!

The sheet had this tagline—something the team had agreed on during the meeting.

Thump-thump.

[Will-bro, pumped this out in 3 days. Full design + card draft. Going to sleep now. Will polish later~]
[Oh, and we haven’t named her yet. Want to pick one? If not, we will!]

Scrolling down—

Thump-thump-thump.

In the dark office, the monitor’s glow illuminated…

Her.

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

One dagger pressed to his throat, glinting in firelight.

One dagger pressed to her own, drawing a thin line of blood.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

Her determined expression lacked Shu’s coldness—instead, there was devotion. Tears at the corners of her eyes. A smile, defiant and proud.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

Uncolored, but her hair—roughly sketched—had a wild, striking beauty.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

> —Are you waiting for a heroine?
> —She is strong. She is mysterious.
> —She was born for you!

No backstory. No dialogue. No context.

Yet those words echoed in his mind.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

She… She could work.

She could be… the heroine everyone loved.

“Hah… hah… hah…”

His pulse was wrong. He reached for his wrist—then remembered.

The heart-rate monitor he’d bought to avoid sudden death…

He hadn’t even picked it up from the mailroom yet.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

“Ngh… chest… hurts…”

He couldn’t even feel his heartbeat anymore—just pain.

Was this…

His punishment? No matter how much he pushed himself, he’d miscalculated.

Tomorrow, they’d find his body.

“Heroine…”

Collapsing onto his desk, he forced his eyes open.

“Heroine.”

She was… beautiful.

He wanted to see her revealed. To see players’ reactions to her card.

“HEROINE!”

Like a computer screen shutting off—

His vision blinked out.

But the afterimage of that illustration remained.

And now…

It was coloring in.

Rendering.

Becoming…

Real.

Right in front of him.

“Four.”

He snapped back to reality.

He remembered.

The memory of his death—long buried—resurfaced.

The last thing he saw before dying…

The thing that might have killed him…

“Three.”

Shuna, holding her dagger, continued the countdown.

In the same pose as the last image he ever saw.

The one meant to appear only in their ignored, unofficial game…

The heroine.