NOVEL NEXT Chapter 49
My team members answered my question in a lackluster manner.
Already being at the final stages of development, everyone seemed exhausted.
In times like this, we should probably boost our caffeine intake…
“Anyone want a drink while I go down to the first floor to grab coffee?”
Yena, who looked the most tired, was the first to raise her hand and speak.
“I’ll take a cappuccino… How about you, Chae-young?”
“I’ll have a café latte. Make it hot.”
After Chae-young made her choice, Seo carefully chimed in as well.
“I’ll have an Americano…”
“Hey, why don’t you come along, Senior? I’ll pick it out when we get there.”
Yerin offered to come along and help fetch the coffee. Since there was no real reason to refuse, I left the office with Yerin.
“You could have gone alone, you know.”
“It’s fine. I was feeling kind of sluggish sitting around, so I thought I’d go out for a bit.”
“Ah, I see.”
The elevator door opened with a ‘ding.’ We took it down to the first floor and entered the coffee shop.
“The usual Java Chip Frappuccino, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
After ordering Yerin’s and the team’s drinks to go, I approached Yerin.
“Have you ordered everything?”
“Yeah, though they said it’ll take a bit longer since they’re short-staffed.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that.”
“Let’s sit and wait, then.”
With no other choice, Yerin and I sat at a table together, and I immediately asked about the public’s reactions on the portal sites.
“How’s the response been?”
“There are some nasty comments, but, excluding the issues you mentioned, there doesn’t seem to be much else?”
“The ones about Japan?”
“Yes.”
As Yerin spoke, my headache began to set in.
These comments had nothing to do with the game but rather malicious slander unrelated to its content. Simply because the Korean company launched in Japan first, they were labeled as traitors.
“Pay them no mind. The people spreading these kinds of words are a minority, and if you don’t respond, they’ll eventually fade away. We can file a lawsuit if they cross the line.”
“I know. I don’t really care about it either. Oh, by the way, I spoke with Yena and the others…”
“Really? What did they say?”
After pausing for a moment as if thinking, Yerin quickly answered.
“According to Yena and Seo, things are going as planned for Bluebird. The game is overwhelmingly popular in Korea, and with so many K-Pop fans in Japan…”
“So is that why?”
“Yes, but Last Arcadia is a bit different from Girls’ Memorial, right? So the reactions from K-Pop fans are pretty positive.”
“What? That’s surprising.”
Although Last Arcadia’s setting was somewhat distant from the current mainstream subculture trends—being more of an apocalypse theme—it was still fundamentally subculture. I thought K-Pop fans wouldn’t respond well.
Guessing by the fact that this country has top-tier singers even recording anime OSTs…
“I must’ve been mistaken.”
“Chae-young mentioned that… the reactions were no joke over there?”
“Really? Intense?”
“Yes, apparently the streamers in Japan who are obsessed with gacha mechanics are throwing fits right now…”
“Ah, I see…”
Considering the streamers who played mobile subculture games in a previous cycle also centered their gameplay around gacha mechanics, it wasn’t too surprising. But sensing the subtle change in my expression, Yerin added hastily.
“Still, the reactions to the broadcast itself are good! In the mobile games category, it’s dominating the viewer count.”
“That’s good then.”
“So, Senior, don’t worry about it…”
As Yerin was saying this, our order was called, cutting her off.
Noticing this, Yerin’s expression seemed slightly annoyed.
“Let me grab it first, then we can continue the conversation upstairs. Got it?”
“Yeah, whatever…”
***
“Finally… it’s over!”
With Chae-young’s joyful exclamation, one of the least tired among us, the CBT monitoring session came to an uneventful end.
Of course, the CBT period had a bit more time left, but we’d long since gathered enough data to write the report, so there was no need to continue monitoring further.
“Everyone worked really hard, so take a good rest and recover for tomorrow. Sound good?”
It was a sweet promise of a day off after a night of overtime, but for some reason, the expressions on the team members’ faces were strange.
In fact, their looks bordered on disdain…
“Why do you all look so upset? Are you unhappy?”
At my question, Yerin, standing beside me, turned to me with an expression that asked, “Are you really that clueless?”
“Senior, what day is today?”
“Thursday… no, since it’s almost morning, Friday?”
“Exactly. So, what day is the day after tomorrow?”
“Sunday?”
“… ”
Had that been a mistake?
Even Yerin, who’d followed the project schedule without complaint up until now, began glaring at me with an expression that suggested a desire to punch me.
“Alright, let it go. I was joking!”
“Really?”
“Of course! We’ll rest until Sunday and return to work on Monday.”
With those words, the tense atmosphere in the meeting room melted away immediately. The team members exchanged farewells and left.
Only after the last member had departed did I finally feel at ease.
If I had joked around any longer, I would have gotten a punch…
***
After the CBT period ended, while the art and development teams were busy revising the feedback, I arrived at a café near Shinjuku, Tokyo, for a meeting with SFLAG, our publisher.
Upon entering and opening the rustic wooden door, I was greeted by the café’s vintage interior.
I informed the part-time worker at the counter that I was with a group and began looking for Tanaka.
“Mr. Ji, this way!”
I spotted Tanaka waving from a corner table. The moment I sat down, Tanaka bowed deeply.
“I should have come to Korea, but I couldn’t find any time. Please forgive me.”
“There’s no need for apologies. It’s obvious that the one with a freer schedule should come first. There’s no reason for mutual apologies.”
“Your words leave me at a loss for what to do.”
After a small talk that concluded when our coffee arrived, he moved on.
“Anyway, this CBT was incredible! The reactions have been phenomenal, haven’t they?”
“I never imagined it would be this successful.”
At my words, Tanaka laughed heartily.
Then, with a genuinely curious look, he asked,
“Mr. Ji, how on earth did you land Ishida Kei?”
“Yes, about Ishida Kei?”
“Yes. We tried our hardest to land him for our side, but his schedule and fees never seemed to align. How did you manage it?”
Faced with Tanaka’s relentless question, all I could do was offer a wry smile.
“It was pure luck, I suppose.”
“If luck could get you an artist of his caliber, we wouldn’t have struggled like this…”
Though I briefly felt sorry for Tanaka, who looked genuinely worn out from the hard work, I couldn’t just go around divulging Chae-young’s connections, which weren’t mine to share in the first place.
Tanaka, seeing that I had no intention of elaborating further, wiped his mouth and switched to the next topic.
“So, your plan is to launch Reverse Arcadia in Japan first?”
“Yes, unless some variables arise, that’s our plan.”
“In that case, may I suggest this as our commemorative gift?”
Tanaka handed me a document as he spoke.
“What is this?”
“This is a contract for outdoor advertising in Shibuya. We secured a spot by a stroke of good fortune and applied immediately.”
Upon examining the document, it was indeed a contract for outdoor advertising in Shibuya. When we released *Girls’ Memorial*, we missed out on such advertising due to the timing, but this time, the publisher had clearly taken the initiative to arrange it themselves, highlighting our changed standing.
“Also, we’re considering teaming it with Ishida Kei for this outdoor advertisement.”
“Really? Isn’t there a concern, given that there have been no contracts after the OST?”
“Surprisingly, Ishida Kei’s agency reached out, impressed by this CBT’s success.”
Of course, the recent trailer and CBT success didn’t just bring opportunities for our game. Ishida Kei’s previous album tracks even underwent a resurgence, re-entering the Oricon charts.
“Let’s do that. It’s purely a win for us, so there’s no reason to decline.”
“Understood. We’ll follow up with Ishida Kei’s agency. Would you mind signing this document?”
Ah, I almost forgot.
At Tanaka’s request, I pulled a pen from my bag, signed the document, and handed it back. Tanaka neatly placed the document in an envelope and tucked it into his bag.
“Oh, and one last thing… Mr. Ji.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“What are your thoughts on the revenue-sharing contract?”
At Tanaka’s question, I replied in my usual tone, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Isn’t this about business partners continuing to work together going forward?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Split it 50/50 with half of the marketing guarantee going to each side. This is a reasonable offer for SLFA as well.”
Taken aback by a suggestion he hadn’t anticipated, Tanaka stared at me blankly for a moment. Regaining composure quickly, he nodded vigorously and bowed deeply.
“That’s more than fair! Thank you so much!”