Seattle, Riverside Heights. Zoey Parker sat cross-legged, crunching sunflower seeds, as Walter Parker and Gus Harper battled over the chessboard. Komina's aggressive Silent Hill push had hit X yesterday, and Gus had called it: To the Moon's $25.5M charity haul forced their hand.
Zoey groaned inwardly, kicking herself. Her whim to make a charity game had somehow nuked Komina across the globe. Now they were burning cash on early promotion. Suckers. If Silent Hill's release stayed mid-next-month, this rushed campaign meant a longer, pricier PR blitz.
She smirked. More hype for Komina meant a bigger crash when WindyPeak's Outlast dropped. Their pain? Not her problem. Their dollars, not hers. She hoped they'd double down—mortgage Komina's Tokyo HQ for a global ad spree, drown out WindyPeak's buzz. Then she'd lose big. Outlast's budget was $19 million, tops. A crazy rebate fantasy—$1.9 billion—flashed in her mind. Four yachts. Financial freedom. Gus as her kept man, tamed by her game-succubus charm.
Zoey giggled, seeds spilling. Walter and Gus side-eyed her. "What?" she snapped. "Watch your chess!"
They chuckled, shaking their heads. "Alright, alright," Walter said, pulling his rook back, plotting his next strike. "So, Gus, what's your move?"
"Our plan was to announce Outlast with Silent Hill's big push," Gus said, sliding his knight to take Walter's pawn. "Snipe Komina, mirror their every step. But now…"
Walter raised an eyebrow, moving his bishop casually. "Now what?"
Gus grinned, leaping his knight across the board. "Checkmate."
"What?!" Walter blinked, staring. His king and rook were trapped by Gus's knight. "I was distracted! That doesn't count!"
"Hey, Dad!" Zoey grabbed Walter's hand. "No take-backs! What's this, a joker card move?"
Walter huffed. "Your elbow's bent outward, Zoey."
Zoey flushed. "I'm all about fairness!"
Walter sighed, shielding his king, sacrificing his rook. Gus smirked, capturing it. "I'm delaying Outlast's announcement to early next month. Let Komina burn their budget."
Zoey's eyes lit up. Whoa, Gus is dodging the spotlight? Not his style. She figured he was spooked by Komina's flex, dodging a losing fight to save face in front of Walter. Cute. WindyPeak was small fry against Komina's empire. She opened her mouth to bail him out.
But Walter nodded, brows raised in approval. "How sure are you?"
Gus clenched his fist. "Hundred percent."
Walter laughed, loud and hearty. "Perfect! Sharp move!"
Gus joined in, chuckling. Zoey blinked, lost. What? Their cryptic exchange flew over her head. As Gus excused himself to the bathroom, Walter teased, "Go on, I can't cheat with Zoey watching."
Gus waved, grinning. "Start a new game if you want."
Walter sipped his tea, turning to Zoey. "Gus has guts, brains, and a ruthless streak. You could learn from him, Miss Hands-Off President."
Zoey pouted. "I didn't get a word of that chess talk."
"That's why you need to step up," Walter said. "How'll you run WindyPeak if you're clueless?"
"Spill it, then," Zoey urged, leaning in. "I'm listening."
Walter set down his cup. "Gus is playing Komina like a fiddle, dragging them into a trap."
Gus's plan was devious. Komina faced a PR crisis from To the Moon's charity glow. They could've quit, let Silent Hill flop quietly. Instead, they doubled down, pumping $22 million into promotion, hitting $40 million total. If WindyPeak announced Outlast now, Komina might buckle under pressure and bail, hit by To the Moon's cannon and Outlast's kick.
Gus didn't want that. He'd let Komina exhaust their budget, then drop Outlast's reveal, forcing them to choose: abandon $40 million and flee, or go all-in, burning more on PR to counter a direct horror-game rival. Silence now meant a bigger trap later.
"You two are ruthless!" Zoey yelped, shrinking back. She'd only hoped Komina would overspend. Gus and Walter turned her daydream into a calculated scam. "No saints in this game!"
Walter snorted. "Keep hoping Gus covers for you, or you're marrying Uncle Peng's kid."
"No way!" Zoey jumped, horrified. "I'd rather choke!"
"Then grow a spine," Walter said, eyeing her slyly, hinting at more than business.
Zoey's gut twisted. Gus's trap was sharp, but could WindyPeak beat Komina? They were a titan, WindyPeak a scrappy startup. A lean giant still crushed a horse. But Gus's gamble was her dream—lose big, cash out bigger.
Tokyo, Komina's HQ. Three weeks into their rushed Silent Hill campaign, the boardroom buzzed with smug confidence.
Week one: Komina launched a fierce PR blitz, controlling reviews, hyping Silent Hill to drown To the Moon's noise. Week two: They pushed harder, tossing around "horror game savior" and "scariest game ever" on X and YouTube. By week three, players bought it, some even defending Komina's hype. PR costs dropped 35%, buzz soared.
Tsuna Yamamoto, Silent Hill's lead, stood tall at the third weekly meeting, hands clasped below Joetsu Keimasa. "Our early push is a triumph!" he boasted. "Silent Hill's the top horror game globally, with 42% keyword share on gaming forums. Players are shifting from hate to hype. Our $22 million promotion's paying off!"
He shot a smug glance at Tetsuya Moritani. Told you. Without his push, Silent Hill would've tanked. At $28 a copy, 1.5 million first-month sales meant $42 million—profit in month one, a Komina horror record. Yamamoto's twin hits, Yakuza and Silent Hill, would crown him king of the Big Three.
Moritani ignored the jab. He was glad Silent Hill was thriving—more than Yamamoto, even—but stayed wary. Then his phone buzzed. A text: "The truth needs to be revealed."
His heart froze. That line was P.T.'s final Easter egg, tied to the fearless reporter Miles. The suspense had haunted him then. Now, it was back. His pulse raced. Something's wrong. Something big.