"Ugh—"
Hanladi jolted awake from his sleep.
He couldn't remember what he'd dreamed about—only that it felt terrifying.
But what scary dream could there be right now? He didn't think much of it, assuming it was just lingering confusion from a night of heavy drinking.
This was supposed to be his moment in the spotlight.
He already had his plans laid out: over the next period of time, he would develop more games just like this one. While the cyberpunk hype was still hot, he'd release several similar titles and rake in a huge profit.
If his efficiency stayed high enough, he felt confident he could squeeze out one or two million dollars before the cyberpunk craze died down.
For that, he had to thank the "god of games," Takayuki.
It was Takayuki who had driven the rise of video games.
It was also Takayuki who turned what had once been a niche, marginal cyberpunk culture into a popular trend.
And it was still Takayuki who relentlessly expanded the cyberpunk audience, letting more people learn about and fall in love with the culture.
Without him, Hanladi would never have made this much money.
If possible, he'd even be willing to set up a shrine for Takayuki at home and worship him every day.
After finishing vomiting, the haze from the alcohol faded a bit. At least for now, he knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.
He then noticed that several people were still sprawled around his place—friends who had come over to party the night before, his usual gang of drinking buddies.
At this point, he already felt a bit disdainful toward them, thinking they were too low-class.
After all, he was now a man capable of earning millions of dollars. From now on, he was going to move in high-end circles.
He staggered to his feet and walked over to his computer.
Since he couldn't sleep anyway, he might as well check on his future money-printing machine.
He wanted to see whether he'd made a few more tens of thousands of dollars overnight.
He skillfully logged into the Battle.net developer backend—a system different from the platform players normally used.
The backend displayed extremely detailed sales data.
Daily sales figures, regional distribution, age demographics, gender distribution—everything was laid out clearly.
Developers could use this data to roughly determine their target audience.
Once that audience was identified, future development became smoother, and it was easier to find a clear direction.
But above all else, what mattered most was daily revenue.
Hanladi smiled as he clicked on the daily sales report.
Then, his expression slowly froze.
Because in the daily sales column, there was no data at all—just a slash.
That slash meant zero sales.
That couldn't be right.
Just yesterday afternoon, he'd checked the numbers. There should have been at least thirty to fifty thousand dollars in revenue.
So how had it turned into a slash overnight? No data at all?
Hanladi assumed there must be a backend error and refreshed the page.
Still a slash. No change.
And then he noticed that it wasn't just the revenue column. Daily sales numbers and daily page visits had also turned into slashes.
As for daily concurrent players, that number wasn't a slash—but whereas it had been several thousand on average over the past few days, it was now barely one percent of that.
Only a few dozen players.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Hanladi began to panic.
Because the revenue field was empty.
Where was his money?
Where was all that money?
Hundreds of thousands of dollars!
All turned into a slash.
That was the biggest blow of all.
Everything else—reviews, concurrent players, user feedback—he didn't care about.
He'd always known exactly what he was doing: making fast money.
But that fast money—
Was gone.
Just one night, and it was all gone.
What the hell happened?
He'd even borrowed money to throw several celebration parties.
Those expenses were all loans!
Without the game's revenue, he'd instantly become someone buried in debt.
There was no way he could stay calm.
Right—Battle.net's official customer service!
Hanladi remembered the contact information in the backend and hurriedly grabbed his phone to dial the number.
"Hello, sir. How may I assist you?"A sweet female voice came from the other end.
"Hello. I'm the developer of Cyberpunk: 2078. I'd like to ask why my game has disappeared from the Battle.net platform, and why all of my previous earnings are gone."
"Please hold on a moment, sir. Let me check that for you…"
Three minutes later.
"I'm sorry, sir. I've found the relevant details for your game. According to our official records, your game has been removed from the platform. Refunds to players have already begun, and the funds currently in your official account have been frozen. These funds will be used to refund players who purchased your game."
"What?! Why?!" Hanladi finally lost his composure.
Why refunds?
He'd never even heard of something like this before!
"Sir, Battle.net does provide a refund option for games."
"I know about refunds! But weren't the funds that already entered my account from players who were no longer eligible for refunds?"
"That's correct—but that only applies to qualified games. If a game is officially deemed unqualified by the Battle.net platform, it is not subject to the two-hour refund limitation. Players may request refunds freely, and we also reserve the right to remove the game."
"This is a predatory policy! You stole my money! Give it back! That money is mine!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but those funds did not belong to you before entering your formal account. In fact, they didn't belong to Gamestar Electronic Entertainment either—they belonged to the players who purchased the game. Therefore, it wouldn't be appropriate to return 'your' money to you."
"I—I'll sue you! Just wait, I'll take you to court!"
"Of course, sir. All of our actions are lawful and fully compliant with U.S. state laws. You are welcome to file a lawsuit, as it may also help promote further legal clarity."
"You—!!"
Hanladi was furious beyond words.
Money that had practically been in his hands—gone just like that.
He felt like he was going insane.
What kind of nightmare situation was this?!
And at the same time, there were at least a hundred other developers in situations similar to Hanladi's—people who had ridden the cyberpunk hype and produced mediocre games.
Not long ago, they'd all been dreaming the same beautiful dream.
But none of them had expected that it would take only a single night for that dream to shatter completely.