As the eventful day went on, Tuesday finally managed to calm down enough to function like a respectable member of society again.
Well...
At least something vaguely resembling one.
That only happened after she heard the exact words she'd been praying to hear from dear old Foca.
"Okay," Foca said gently. "I'll see what I can do, alright? It may not amount to much, especially with the Chinese government already involved, but I have to at least try."
The moment those words left his mouth, Tuesday lowered her head.
Hidden from everyone's view, the corners of her lips slowly curled upward into a triumphant smirk.
Perks of having a loaded best friend.
Now, before anyone starts judging Miss Tuesday...
She has never once taken advantage of her friendship with Foca.
...Well.
Not intentionally.
But every now and then, certain benefits naturally come with having one of the richest people on the planet as your best friend.
If you want someone to attempt rescuing your virtual husbando from permanent deletion...
Well...
Go get yourself an obscenely wealthy best friend.
Easy.
...
Actually, Miss Tuesday, no.
It is that deep.
People aren't exactly finding billionaire besties wandering around like they're collectible Pokémon cards.
They're rather scarce in today's economy.
Anyway, back from that regularly scheduled tangent.
Tuesday dramatically lifted her head.
Her eyes shimmered with carefully cultivated tears, and she offered Foca the most fragile, grateful smile she could muster.
"...Thank you."
She even threw in a few delicate little sniffles for good measure, gently dabbing the corners of her eyes with immaculate precision, making absolutely certain not to disturb her makeup.
Because yes, she was grieving.
But grief was never an excuse to neglect looking fabulous.
The aesthetic had to remain intact.
The vibe?
"I'm mourning my fictional wolf boi husband... but I'm doing it while serving face."
****
Sometime later, Hyouka finally managed to coax Tuesday out of Foca's office.
"C'mon," she said gently. "Let's get you touched up and grab your daily lavender matcha latte. It's good for a grieving heart... especially one mourning a departed fictional husbando."
Hyouka meant every single word with complete sincerity.
Unfortunately...
Somewhere along the way, the message got lost in the matrix.
Tuesday gasped dramatically.
"Now listen here, Miss Hyyyyyou-ka!" she declared, placing a hand over her chest. "I know you out here livin' your best life with your hot, sexy, brooding Mister Dewberry... but you better have a little bit of that R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Find out what it means to me! R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Yeah! Yeah!"
"Okay, Miss Aretha Franklin," Hyouka sighed, already steering her toward the door. "That's enough Love in Deep Galaxies for you today."
She glanced back at Foca with an apologetic smile.
"I think our Tuesday is back online."
Foca and Luca couldn't help but laugh as the office door finally closed behind the two women.
Never a dull day in the Bread Music family.
Silence settled over the office.
Then Foca spoke calmly.
"Chamber."
Naturally, his ever-faithful bodyguard appeared from absolutely nowhere.
Seriously.
Where does this man even come from?
This isn't an anime.
"Oui, monsieur?"
"I want you to investigate the Love in Deep Galaxies situation."
Foca walked toward his mahogany desk, casually opening his laptop.
"Find out exactly what's happening. See if there's anything we can do to help."
He paused.
"If the situation becomes too complicated, don't push it. I don't want the Chinese government breathing down our necks."
Another pause.
"If that's the case..."
He looked up.
"...just buy the rights to everything related to Valkov."
The office fell silent.
Even Chamber blinked once.
Luca stared.
"...You're actually considering buying the intellectual property?"
"Mm-hm."
"And... what exactly are you planning to do with it?"
Foca looked at him as though Luca had just asked why people breathe oxygen.
"Make a video game, of course."
He tilted his head.
"What else would I do with a video game character?"
Luca opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then sighed with the weary acceptance of a man who had long since realized that arguing with Foca's logic was a losing battle.
"...Why did I even ask?"
He shook his head, smiling despite himself.
See, here's the thing.
To Foca...
Creating a game was the obvious answer.
The logic was as straightforward as one plus one equals two.
Except...
No.
Making a modern video game is nowhere near that simple.
It takes years of development.
Hundreds of people.
Artists.
Writers.
Programmers.
Animators.
Composers.
Voice actors.
Marketing.
Quality assurance.
And enough money to make accountants spontaneously develop migraines.
Video games don't just sprout from the ground like mushrooms after a rainy afternoon.
But...
To Foca?
It kind of did.
"I was already planning to expand into game development someday," Foca admitted as his fingers flew across the keyboard, replying to emails with frightening efficiency.
"I just didn't expect 'someday' to arrive this soon."
Luca walked toward the coffee machine, preparing himself a cappuccino.
"Well... you've already got Bread Music."
He glanced over his shoulder with a grin.
"Why not Bread Gaming?"
Foca immediately looked up from his laptop.
His eyes sparkled.
"...I actually like the sound of that."
He hummed thoughtfully for all of two seconds before his fingers resumed their lightning-fast typing.
Luca laughed.
"Easy there, hot stuff. At this rate you'll end up writing an autobiography titled My Life as the CEO of a Gaming Company."
Without missing a beat, Foca replied,
"I like that title too."
A thoughtful pause.
"Maybe after I finish writing My Life as the CEO of an Entertainment Company."
...
Alright.
Roll the credits.
He said it.
He actually said the title of the book.
Foca.
My good sir.
Who exactly is writing this web novel?
Because if it's you...
I'm suing you for plagiarism.
This is my web novel! 🤣
****
As lunchtime rolled around, Foca, Luca, Tuesday, and Hyouka found themselves dining inside one of the private VIP rooms of the Bread Music Café.
Everyone had ordered something different.
Hyouka, of course, was enjoying a steak.
Not medium-rare.
Not well-done.
No.
Congratulations.
Now, for those unfamiliar with the culinary masterpiece known as a congratulations steak...
Imagine a well-done steak.
Then keep cooking.
Keep going.
A little longer...
There.
Congratulations.
You have successfully carbonized your beef.
And because Hyouka was a proud Filipina through and through, she happily dipped every bite into... banana ketchup.
Go ahead.
Let that information settle.
Meanwhile, Tuesday was happily working on a plate of lemon garlic salmon.
Luca had ordered coffee and pistachio-crusted lamb.
Foca, however, found himself craving something that tugged deeply at his Filipino roots.
So he ordered a comforting bowl of champorado, paired with crispy dried salted anchovies and finished with a generous splash of evaporated milk.
Now that combination?
Pure Filipino comfort food.
Seriously, where else are you going to find chocolate rice porridge served alongside salty dried fish?
Exactly.
Nowhere.
Anyway...
As everyone chatted over lunch, Foca had gradually disappeared into his own little world.
His leather-bound notebook lay open beside his bowl as he scribbled away without pause.
He'd take a spoonful of champorado.
Write a few lines.
Pause.
Play a melody inside his head.
Hum softly.
Then immediately jot down another lyric before he forgot it.
The cycle repeated over and over.
Eventually, he became so immersed that he didn't even notice the conversation around him had completely stopped.
Instead...
He simply began humming.
Then singing.
Between bites of food.
Making him resemble an adorable little chipmunk storing snacks for winter.
🎶
Eyes set on...(muffled, muffled)
...gulp.
Hearts burning ever bright.
We're dancing on cloud nine tonight.
(Muffled, muffled, muffled.)
...gulp.
Shouting from the top of our lungs...
The future has only begun...
🎶
"...Boo-boo."
Tuesday's voice finally snapped him back to reality.
"Whatchu got cookin' over there? 'Cause from what I'm hearing..."
She leaned forward dramatically.
"...it's already sounding hella goooood!"
Hyouka and Luca both nodded in agreement.
Foca blinked.
"Hm?"
He glanced down at his notebook before smiling sheepishly.
"Oh!"
"It's the signal song for LEAVEN."
He stretched lazily like a cat before finally giving his neglected lunch the attention it deserved.
"A signal song?" Hyouka tilted her head.
"Isn't it a little late for that? The show's almost over."
"I know." Foca nodded between bites.
"But survival shows always have a signature signal song."
He shrugged.
"I figured... why not make one anyway?"
He smiled.
"Better late than never."
Then he turned toward Luca.
"Oh."
"You're directing the music video."
Luca didn't even look surprised anymore.
"I'm imagining something that's half elaborate music video, half grand stage production."
Foca smiled innocently.
"You can pull that off, right?"
Luca chuckled.
"Babe..."
He reached over and gently flicked Foca's forehead.
"You're talking about me."
A confident grin spread across his face.
"Of course I can."
He leaned back in his chair.
"I'll blow your mind..."
A beat.
"...and everyone else's."
Just like that...
The two of them slipped into their own little pink-tinted world, happily brainstorming ideas with matching lovestruck smiles.
Across the table, Tuesday stared at them with visible disgust.
"Ewwww!"
She dramatically clutched her chest.
"Seriously?"
She pointed her fork at the couple.
"Right in front of my salmon?"
She sighed with the exhaustion of a woman forced to witness romance before dessert.
Then, in protest, she stabbed her salmon with far more aggression than the poor fish had ever deserved.