Evan Carter wasn't the type who liked getting dragged into drama.
But the thing about drama in this world was that even if you didn't look for it, it somehow grew legs, hunted you down, and banged on your door anyway.
And this particular legged problem, according to his roommate, came in the form of Richard Langford.
Last week, Zach Turner had told Evan that Richard was hosting a "graduation-season class party." Evan, who valued his game far more, skipped it. So Zach, Mark Dawson, and Gavin Wells dressed sharply, cleaned up, and headed out on Tuesday. After all, who would say no to free food, free drinks, and free entertainment?
But the moment the three stepped into the hotel, something felt wrong.
A massive banner on the venue wall read:
"Wishing Richard Langford Success as Harborview University's Best Graduate of the Year!"
So much for a friendly class gathering. This wasn't a graduation get-together—it was a publicity stunt. And the guests weren't just students. The place was crawling with polished, business-suit types who looked like they'd stepped straight out of corporate brochures.
Mark felt anger rise in his chest.
"This guy, seriously? He hasn't even submitted anything and he's already acting like he won?"
Their classmates around them nodded. If Richard had real talent, people might've admired his confidence. But seeing him lean on a hired team to show off while everyone else had studied and fought their way through four years left a bad taste.
When the crowd had settled, Richard finally walked out on stage.
He was flanked by two cute underclassmen who looked like he'd handpicked them for optics. His hair was freshly styled, his outfit screamed expensive, and his leather shoes shined so brightly they probably had their own spotlight.
He gently guided the two girls aside, took the mic, and began speaking.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my pre-celebration banquet." He tried an exaggerated Western courtly bow—so awkward it made Gavin snort aloud.
"As you all know, Harborview University hasn't officially hit graduation yet. So you're probably wondering why I'm so confident already." He took a dramatic half-step back.
"Allow me to introduce my lead assistant for my graduation project: Professor Shawn Quinlan, from East Horizon Games."
A young man stepped onto the stage. He didn't look like a professor—he looked like he could've been one of the seniors in the audience. Clean-cut, serious, quiet. He gave the room a slight chin-lift in greeting, nothing more.
Richard continued:
"Professor Quinlan joined East Horizon Games as a specially recruited intern during his freshman year. After six years building his experience there, he was moved by my father's invitation and came to Harborview City to help expand our family's position in the gaming market. Before that, he agreed to work as my chief assistant and help develop the game for my graduation project. And—this is important—he has committed to donating all profits from the game to Harborview University as sponsorship. My family wants to give back to the school that has supported me for four years."
Instantly, whispers filled the hall.
Most of the attention was on Shawn Quinlan himself.
First, East Horizon Games was a major player—one of the biggest studios in the country. Headquartered in Linden City, they'd built their reputation on martial-arts puzzle games and had dominated the market for a decade. Landing a freshman-year internship there was nearly impossible; lasting six years was proof of serious skill.
Second, people were stunned by the Langford family's influence. East Horizon didn't just train any intern for six years—those were hand-picked, high-potential talents. For someone like Shawn Quinlan to walk away and join Richard Langford's personal project?
Either the Langford family was unbelievably reckless…
Or they had the money and backing to challenge even a market giant like East Horizon without flinching.
Once Richard finished his speech, he stood off to the side, smiling proudly as the whole room buzzed.
When everyone finally quieted, he continued:
"I understand some of you may have concerns about our decision to expand into the Harborview gaming market."
"But here's what I can say: we've already established an initial cooperative relationship with Harborview University's School of Game Design, and that relationship will only deepen. The Langford Group's goal is to grow the industry—so that everyone benefits—not tear it down. I hope all of you have opportunities to collaborate with us in the future."
He lifted his glass.
"Alright, that's enough talking. I hope everyone enjoys the evening."
Down below, Mark, Gavin, and Zach stared at one another, wide-eyed and pale.
Every single thing they'd heard tonight was bad news.
Richard's assistant from East Horizon.
Richard's "partnership" with the university.
Richard's pledge to donate project profits to the school.
All of it screamed one thing:
Richard Langford was dead set on winning Best Graduate.
And no normal student could even dream of matching these advantages.
The three roommates thought back to the simple shooting game Evan was still debugging back in the dorm. They hated admitting it, but…
It felt impossible.
The banquet, beautiful as it was, tasted absolutely flavorless now.
Mark slammed his brightly colored wine glass down.
"What does Richard think the graduation competition is? A networking tool for his family's corporation? It's bad enough he's not doing his own work—now he's using money and connections to bulldoze everyone else? What even IS this?"
Gavin tried to calm him down.
"Alright, Mark, breathe. It's messed up, yeah, but what can we do? The real question is—can Evan still back out? The game we tested yesterday… If he withdraws, he'll graduate fine. But if he competes—well, we haven't even seen Richard's game, and it already seems impossible to beat."
Zach sank deep into the sofa cushions.
"Impossible is exactly what it feels like. And you know Evan—once he decides something, he won't back down. The only thing we can do is go back, tell him everything, and let him prepare himself. Over the next few days, we help him polish his game as much as we can. Do our best, let fate handle the rest. What else can we do?"
Mark slumped back with a sigh.
"I know… I know. It just feels so unfair. Evan's worked harder than anyone. And if four years of effort can't compete with one kid's mountain of money, then honestly, they should just rename this whole thing the 'Who's Richer Competition.'"
For a long moment, the four of them just sat there, the noise of the party fading behind the heavy mood settling over them.
The entire atmosphere had turned dark.