When Izumi spoke, Jason felt heat rise to his cheeks despite himself, the warmth spreading across his face in a way that made him want to disappear into his coffee cup.
"Um..." he began, his voice catching slightly before he forced himself to regain composure.
He couldn't let the awkward atmosphere linger—he needed to say something, anything, to dispel the tension that had settled between them like fog. His mind raced for a reasonable explanation, something that would make his proposal sound less desperate than it actually was. "Well, there are actually multiple reasons..."
Across the small café table, Izumi couldn't help but purse her lips slightly, fighting back a knowing smile. The afternoon light streaming through the window caught the skepticism in her eyes.
'Liar,' she thought, though there was no malice in it.
"I can accept all your conditions," she said finally, her expression shifting to something warmer, more genuine. A beaming smile spread across her face as she leaned forward slightly. "But I have one requirement in return!"
The words hit Jason. His coffee cup froze halfway to his lips, and he felt his carefully constructed words crumble into dust.
He'd been wondering all morning how to persuade her, running through scenario after scenario in his head. When he'd first approached her about this collaboration, Jason hadn't been very confident at all—he'd just wanted to give it a try.
After all, he understood his own situation. Money? He definitely couldn't afford to pay her what she was worth right now. His bank account was practically empty, every asiara carefully allocated to development resources.
If he spent money on proper compensation, he might as well abandon the game development project altogether. There were still so many crucial tools and assets he needed to purchase.
Could he rely on their senior-junior relationship from university? But she wasn't his parent, wasn't obligated to help him out of some sense of duty. And his proposal probably looked like nothing more than empty promises anyway.
But now, hearing her words, was there actually a chance?
Could this impossible situation somehow work out?
"Senior, what's your requirement?" Jason asked, setting his cup down.
Izumi's smile took on a slightly mischievous quality, and Jason caught a glimpse of the determined person he remembered from their university days.
"Two months' time," she said, her tone becoming more businesslike. "And if your game doesn't sell well afterward, you'll have to come work for me! You'll need to sign at least four contracts for illustration books!"
She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in before adding softly, "Of course, regarding payment and salary, I definitely won't try to exploit your labor like you're trying to do with mine."
The smile that accompanied these words was somewhat teasing.
Hearing Izumi's proposal, Jason was stunned for a moment, his mind going completely blank before slowly processing what she'd said.
Regarding illustration books, Jason didn't have many strong feelings one way or another. After all, in his previous life—before this strange second chance—there had been quite a few successful female illustration book artists making decent livings.
He could think of several names, though certainly...
Ahem. Actually, if he was being completely honest with himself, Jason didn't really know any of these artists personally or have detailed knowledge of their work. Most of what he knew came from conversations with friends, overheard discussions in online forums, that sort of thing.
But the point remained—it was a legitimate career path, even if it wasn't exactly what he'd envisioned for himself.
"So, what sales figures would be considered 'not selling well'?" Jason asked after collecting himself, trying to keep his voice low.
This was the crucial question.
If she mentioned something astronomical millions, maybe even tens of millions of copies Jason truly wouldn't be confident about accepting her terms.
After all, this was a parallel world, quite different from the gaming environment of his previous life. Although there was no piracy factor to contend with, which was certainly advantageous, the market itself operated on different principles than what he remembered from before.
Without money for proper marketing campaigns, professional polish, or extensive post-launch support, he'd be relying almost entirely on organic word-of-mouth recommendations from players.
It would be an uphill battle from day one.
Even indie games that had received tremendous critical acclaim in his previous life games that eventually sold millions or even tens of millions of copies, when you looked carefully at their histories, many had only become popular after several months or even a full year of slow growth.
At the moment of uploading to distribution platforms, most of them had been completely obscure, struggling for visibility in an oversaturated market.
The success stories that everyone remembered were the exceptions, not the rule. For every breakout hit, there were thousands of games that never found their audience, despite being well-crafted and deserving of attention.
So, if Izumi mentioned something like one million copies, Jason knew he'd have to decline and work alone. Because if he agreed to those terms, with the type of game he was currently planning to develop, he would most likely end up spending the next several years as an illustration book artist rather than pursuing his dream of game development.
"Hmm..." Izumi pulled out her phone, seemingly deep in thought. Her fingers moved quickly across the screen, and Jason caught glimpses of what looked like a text conversation. "Let me check something first."
She spent about a minute typing and reading responses, her expression shifting between concentration and mild surprise.
Finally, she looked up with a decisive nod.
"200,000," she said initially, then seemed to reconsider. "No, let's say 100,000! If sales don't exceed 100,000 copies within two months after release, you lose the bet and come work for me!"
Hearing Izumi's final number, Jason couldn't help but reveal a genuinely confident smile for the first time since they'd sat down.
'One hundred thousand sales in two months?'
Although the gaming environment of this world differed somewhat from his previous life, and he certainly didn't have much startup capital to work with, this number felt almost generous to someone with his knowledge and experience.
In his previous life, he'd seen countless indie games struggle to reach even half that number in their first year, let alone two months. But he also knew which types of games had the potential to catch fire quickly, which mechanics and themes resonated with players in ways that transcended traditional marketing.
With the right approach, the right timing, and a bit of luck, 100,000 copies wasn't just achievable—it was practically guaranteed.
"No problem at all," Jason agreed straightforwardly, already pushing back his chair and gathering his things. The nervous energy that had been building all afternoon was finally finding an outlet. "Then senior, let's officially start tomorrow! I need to go back and prepare everything properly. I'll see you tomorrow morning!"
With that decisive statement, he said goodbye to Izumi without giving her time to negotiate further or second-guess the arrangement. Jason turned and headed for the café door immediately, his mind already racing with development timelines and task priorities.
He left behind a somewhat dazed Izumi, who sat staring after his retreating figure with growing concern and a nagging sense that something had just gone very wrong with her carefully laid plans.
Did I... perhaps suggest too few? The thought struck her as soon as the café door closed behind him.
Jason's confidence in those final moments had been almost unsettling not like the desperate gratitude of someone accepting a difficult challenge, but the quiet assurance of someone who'd just been handed an easy victory.
Thinking of this, Izumi quickly fumbled for her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. After just two seconds, the other party answered.
"Rosy, you weren't lying to me earlier, right?" Izumi asked directly. "Are 100,000 sales in two months really considered high for someone in Jason's situation?"
There was a brief pause before a confident female voice came through the phone. "It's not impossibly high, but it's definitely ambitious. Remember what you asked me? You wanted to know what would be considered challenging but fair for someone making a game for the first time without much financial backing."
The voice continued with professional detachment, "No money, first-time developer, limited access to the resources and tools that established game designers take for granted—this is essentially starting the race with weights tied to your ankles. One hundred thousand sales in two months under those conditions? That's definitely hard mode, maybe even nightmare difficulty."
Rosy's tone shifted slightly, becoming more explanatory. "For context, getting even a few thousand copies sold in the first two months would be considered a passing grade for someone in his position. Most indie developers would be thrilled with ten thousand sales in their first quarter, especially without marketing budget or industry connections."
"Really?" Izumi asked.
"Of course it's true! This assessment comes from someone who's been working professionally in game development and publishing for over five years. I've seen countless projects launch and fail, and I know what realistic expectations look like."
There was a pause, then Rosy's voice brightened with sudden interest. "By the way, Izumi, are you finally planning to make a game yourself? Have you changed your mind about collaborating with me? I've been telling you for months—if you handle the original art design and character illustrations, we could definitely create something amazing together! Your artistic style would be perfect for the project I've been developing, and with my technical background and industry contacts..."
"Rosy, Rosy! What are you saying?" Izumi interrupted quickly, pulling the phone away from her ear as her friend's excitement grew. "The signal here is terrible, I can barely hear you! Let's talk about this later, okay?"
"But Izumi, this could be exactly the opportunity we've been—"
Hearing the increasingly excited voice on the other end, Izumi's expression changed to one of mild panic. She held the phone at arm's length and raised her voice. "Really bad connection! I'll call you back!"
She hung up quickly and let out a long, shaky breath, slumping back in her café chair.
Then, as the immediate panic subsided, she found herself recalling exactly what Rosy had said during their conversation.
First time making a game, no money, nightmare-level difficulty—these labels had all been maxed out for Jason's situation. Which meant, if her friend's professional assessment was accurate, that Jason had essentially just walked into an impossible challenge with complete confidence.
A slow smile spread across Izumi's face as the implications became clear. Her assistant problem was finally resolved! The only minor regret was that this assistant wouldn't officially start working for her for another two months. But that was a small price to pay for what looked like a guaranteed outcome.
After saying goodbye to Izumi, Jason returned to his small apartment.
After tidying up the room a bit and clearing some space around his desk, Jason settled into his familiar workspace facing his laptop.
For game development, the computer's configuration was adequate for his current needs—at least sufficient for the "Huniepop" project he had in mind. The processor was a generation behind current standards, and the graphics card was firmly in the budget category, but it would handle everything he needed to accomplish.
Of course, Jason couldn't develop any larger, more ambitious games with his current setup. The hardware limitations were real, but more importantly, he simply didn't have the financial resources. His access to official engine licenses, premium asset libraries, and professional development tools was severely restricted by his budget constraints.
As for improving resource access, there were basically two established paths in this industry. The first involved becoming an officially certified game designer and steadily raising your professional credentials and reputation.
How did you accomplish that? Game sales figures and industry awards received—these could all be factored into the evaluation process. Higher certification levels unlocked access to better tools, more comprehensive asset libraries, and preferential treatment from distribution platforms.
The second path was much more straightforward, if you had the means: simply use the power of money. Your access to development resources scaled directly with your financial capability.
Want the latest engine builds? Premium asset packs? Professional-grade audio libraries? As long as your credit card could handle it, the entire ecosystem was opened up to you.
However, these considerations were completely irrelevant for Jason's current situation. Besides, a game like "Huniepop" wouldn't require extensive resources anyway. The concept was elegant in its simplicity, and the technical requirements were well within the scope of what he could access with his current tools and budget.
At least the resources Jason currently had permission to use were definitely sufficient for this particular project.
Settling comfortably into his desk chair, Jason opened a new document and began writing the initial conceptual draft for "Huniepop"—the complete game design document that would serve as his roadmap through development.
Although the development team consisted of only himself and Izumi handling the visual assets, that didn't mean he could skip the planning phase. Just like creating a detailed outline before writing a lengthy essay, proper documentation could dramatically improve development efficiency and help prevent costly mistakes down the line.
The design document would need to cover everything: core gameplay mechanics, user interface design, character progression systems, narrative structure, technical specifications, art direction guidelines, audio requirements, platform considerations, and marketing strategy.