Talking things through with his mom in the hospital gave Evan a painfully clear picture of Redline Games' situation.
A failed project.Money burned.Key staff bailing.And on top of that, his uncle trying to sell the company out from under his dad.
From Evan's experience—both in this world and the one before—any one of those problems could put a studio on life support. The fact that Redline was still standing at all came down to two things:
One, his dad had built a team of loyal employees over the years. Most of them trusted him enough not to panic publicly yet.Two, the company wasn't drowning in debt. Redline had taken out a $300,000 loan for the failed project, but the money hadn't vanished. And according to his mom, Redline still had some older savings on the books—enough to cover the damage and leave a tiny surplus.
Back in his room that night, Evan laid out everything he knew on paper, writing down problem after problem until they formed a clean list.
The biggest one was obvious.
He circled "project collapse"—twice, and hard.
Everything else—the unease, the arguments, the corporate poaching—stemmed from that disaster. Redline wasn't bankrupt yet, but it had lost direction. A studio without a project is just a waiting room for unemployment.
If he could fix that, the rest could be salvaged.
Under the circled words he wrote:
"→ New successful game."
But what kind of game?
He leaned back in his chair, thinking it through.
First, the budget had to be tiny. Redline couldn't afford another ambitious project, and the bank certainly wasn't giving them another loan.
Second, the money had to come back fast. The company had no real cash flow left, and both the staff and his dad needed something—anything—to give them hope again. Long development cycles were out of the question.
Those two conditions alone practically killed any kind of traditional single-player title.
Small investment, fast return…There was really only one type of game that fit—and one he absolutely disliked.
But if it saved the company?
He'd do it.
The next morning, Evan drove straight to Redline Games' headquarters.
Harborview City was basically the New York or Los Angeles of this world—a massive, hyper-competitive coastal hub with a population in the tens of millions. In comparison, his hometown, Northdale City, felt slower, older, more relaxed. Inland, cooler climate, calmer pace. Not as wealthy or culturally explosive, but far less pressure.
Redline Games was located in a modest office building by the city's second ring road. His dad had moved the company here six years ago. The last time Evan had visited was the previous summer.
He rode the elevator up to the sixth floor—Redline's floor—and was surprised to see… no one. The lobby was empty. Not even a receptionist.
That wasn't normal.
Walking farther in, Evan spotted someone at the water cooler—a small, flustered figure trying to pour a cup without spilling.
"Lana!" he called out.
She turned, startled. With her round face and bright eyes, Lana Young, Redline's receptionist, always looked more like a high schooler than a recent college grad.
"Evan!" she squeaked, practically launching herself across the room. "You're back! Everyone's been on edge since your dad was hospitalized yesterday. This morning, the tech guys were literally saying, 'Man, if only Evan were here.' I can't believe you actually came!"
Evan laughed and ruffled her hair, earning an immediate glare.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" she said, swatting at his hand. "Technically, I'm older than you. Stop treating me like a kid."
He held up his palms."I can't help it. You're a year older, sure—but you look at least five years younger. In… pretty much every way."
He made an exaggerated glance up and down.
Lana's cheeks went bright red. She let out a tiny "ugh!" and spun away, running down the hall. Halfway there, she turned back and shouted:
"Mr. Carter called a company-wide meeting in the east conference room! You should go!"
Evan shook his head, amused. Lana's looks weren't the only youthful thing about her—her personality was just as energetic.
He followed the hallway signs, and even before he reached the conference room door, he heard a too-familiar voice booming inside.
"…and that's why President Frank Carter's strategic missteps brought us to this point. But as the saying goes—people move upward, water flows downward. So, thinking realistically about everyone's livelihood, I want to extend an offer on behalf of BrightPeak Entertainment. Anyone who chooses to join us will keep their current position and receive a ten-percent salary increase—"
That was enough.
Evan pushed the door open.
"Uncle James," he said, stepping inside, "I have to say—you really go above and beyond. Negotiating the company's future without the company's approval? Bold move."
James Carter's expression immediately darkened."This is a workplace, Evan. What are you doing here?"
Evan smiled lightly."Guess you haven't been around much. Last summer, when I helped out, HR processed my paperwork. I was appointed Deputy Director of the Technical Department." He turned to the front row. "Isn't that right, Tom?"
Tom Jensen, Redline's technical director, put down his phone and grinned.
"Evan's the real deal. We all know it. If anyone earned that director title, it's him."
Evan nodded. "Thanks, Tom."
He stepped forward, positioning himself directly in front of his uncle, then addressed the room.
"I know things have been rough lately. You've all heard bits and pieces, so let me say this clearly: Redline Games hasn't fallen."
He held up a folder.
"I brought a game proposal—one I believe can turn things around. Some of you worked with me last summer, so you know I don't make promises I can't keep. If you really think Redline is done, I won't stop you from going with Uncle James. But if you stay—if you stick with us—I genuinely believe we can rebuild this company together. And whatever success comes next? We share it."
There was a long, shifting silence.
James Carter looked at Evan—at his confidence, his calmness, the way he held himself—and something uncertain flickered in his expression.
Then Tom Jensen shot to his feet.
"I'm in," he said immediately. "No question. Evan's one of the sharpest young developers I've ever met. And in case anyone missed it—he just won Best Graduate at Harborview University two weeks ago. That tiny FPS everyone was talking about? Killing Planet? That was his."
He looked around, fired up."I trust him. Completely."
Even Evan felt his ears warm at the praise."Alright, Tom—let's keep it professional," he said, coughing lightly. "Low-key, please."
Tom waved him off. "We're family here. Just tell us—what's the new game?"
Evan smiled—slow, confident, a little mischievous.
"Alright," he said. "Let me ask you this—Have you heard of… Kun?