I pictured it: three massive Pods sitting where our couch should be, humming away, a tangle of power and data cables snaking across the floor. My family tripping over them. Trying to watch TV surrounded by the thrumming heart of my digital empire. The complete and total loss of our shared living space. The absurdity of it was overwhelming.
"Yeah, No…. That's… not going to work," I said, defeat creeping back into my voice. "This apartment… we're packed in here like sardines as it is. There's no room for a server farm, even a tiny one made of Pods."
"[The living room would provide adequate square footage,]" Sunday suggested, utterly oblivious to the human element.
"Technically, it can… but, No," I said, the word final.
"Absolutely not…. That's their space. Our space. I'm not turning our home into a data center." The solution was technically perfect and logistically impossible. The problem was clear. The solution was even clearer. I needed a bigger place.
The thought should have been exciting. 'Upgrade! A new house!' But my mind didn't jump to sleek penthouses or lonely mansions. It immediately flashed to the five women in the other rooms.
Leaving them wasn't an option. It wasn't even a thought that completed itself in my head. The idea of coming home to a silent, empty space, no matter how large, felt profoundly wrong. This cramped, chaotic, loving apartment was home because they were in it.
I thought about Cathy, my mother, whose entire world revolved around making sure I was happy and fed. I thought about Vera, with her fierce protectiveness and nurturing strength, who treated me like the man of the house in a way that made me want to live up to it. I thought about Nadia, my grandmother, whose love had become so deep and intimate, a bond that was now the core of my stability. I thought about Emily, my sister, with her sharp wit and unwavering support, my first and most loyal fan. I thought about Bella, my cousin, whose earnest affection and stunning beauty was a constant, happy distraction.
They weren't just my family; they were my reason. The source of the confidence to be this new ME. The thought of them waking up and finding me gone, of eating dinner without me, of living their lives in this apartment while I was off in some big house alone… it was a physical ache in my chest.
I couldn't do it, I wouldn't. Any new home wouldn't be my house. It would be our house. A place with enough room for all of us to breathe, to live, and yes, for me to build my empire without sacrificing the warmth that made it all worthwhile.
The need for space wasn't just about servers and family anymore. As I stood there, the limitations of our tiny apartment felt like walls closing in, but my mind was expanding at light speed. The VR Pods were just the beginning, I found the most practical solution to my Server lacking problem, but at the same time, lead to a discovery of another major issue, that really needed solving.
"Meteor Studio can't just be me in a bedroom forever," I muttered, more to myself than to Sunday. The name itself deserved more.
The vision unfolded in my head like a spectacular trailer. This wasn't just about one game. The battle royale was the key, the revenue generator that would fund everything else. But what came after? The music. The Master Singer skill thrummed inside me, begging to be used. I'd need a recording studio, a proper one, with soundproofing and mixing boards.
And the games... on that part I get everything covered, in fact for the games part, I never will let anyone else touch it all, it is my stuff and it will remain as so. But at the same time, my other project would need human touch after all. Manga and book adaptations would require editors, publishers, physical office space, this is something that need to happen anyway at some point.
Sunday could manage the digital infinity of the internet, but she couldn't sign contracts, couldn't look a talented artist in the eye and inspire them, couldn't host a launch party. Meteor Studio needed to become a real place. A headquarters. A beacon. This new property wasn't just a house; it was the first tangible piece of my empire, the foundation stone for everything to come. Meteor Studios cannot just stay an Online company, it would eventually need to exist physically.
I let out a long, slow breath, the kind that carries the weight of reality with it. "I really thought I was set for life," I confessed to the empty room.
"Half a billion dollars. It's a number so big it doesn't feel real. But it's not enough, is it? Not for what I want... It's just the starter money."
The hunger was back, but it was a different kind than before. It wasn't the desperate hunger of my old life, scraping for rent. This was a builder's hunger, I wanted this life to mean something and I wanted to achieve something, so I cannot for the life of me, stay on the passive.
"Sunday," I said, my voice firm with new purpose. "New priority…. I want you to search for properties, Real estate… I'm not just looking for a bigger apartment. I want a house. A real house. It has to fit all of us—Mom, Vera, Nadia, Emily, Bella, and me, comfortably with room to spare… for the future…".
The next part was just as important. "And it has to have land. Outdoor space. …A yard, a garden, something…" The memory of the "cultured" WcWonalds burger, for all its engineered perfection, left a hollow feeling.
"I don't trust the crap they sell in stores, if we want real, organic food, we're gonna have to grow it ourselves…. I want a plot where we can plant real vegetables... and have fun doing it…"
It was a small, almost quaint demand amidst the grand plans of game servers and entertainment empires, but it felt vital. It was about control. About authenticity in a world that had commodified and synthesized everything, it was a bit depressing but it is the nature of this world, and all that I can do is corrected the things that I can and want, for myself and those that were close to me.
Sunday's response was almost instantaneous. "[Search parameters set. Filtering available properties within a 50-kilometer radius of New San Antonio that meet the criteria of residential zoning, minimum square footage for six occupants, and available land plot.]".
A holographic map of the city and its outskirts materialized above my desk. Dozens of glowing dots appeared, most clustered in the dense, expensive urban core. But a few were scattered further out, near the edge of the megapolis, where the endless sprawl of buildings finally began to give way to the scarred, protected greenbelts that surrounded the city.
"[Cross-referencing with current market values,]" Sunday continued. "[Properties in the urban core are approximately 300-400% more expensive per square meter. The outskirts offer significantly better value for space and land.]"
One dot on the map began to pulse with a soft, golden light. "[I have identified a prime candidate. It is not a single-family dwelling. It is a multi-unit residential apartment building.]"
My eyebrows shot up. 'A whole building?'
The hologram zoomed in and shifted into a stunning 3D render. It was a charming, modern yet classic three-story structure, built of warm red brick and pale concrete. It looked solid, secure. A high perimeter wall of matching brick encircled the entire property, with a strong, gated entrance that led not to a driveway, but directly down a ramp into a subterranean parking garage.
"[The property consists of five total levels: three above-ground floors of residences, a rooftop terrace, and a subterranean parking and storage basement,]" Sunday narrated as the hologram did a virtual fly-through.
"[Each residential floor contains three individual apartment units. Each unit is approximately 150 square meters and contains three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living area, and a full kitchen. More than adequate for a family unit.]"
The render then swept over the grounds inside the wall. My heart did a little leap. There it was. A dedicated community garden plot, its soil looking rich and dark. Next to it, a sparkling 20-meter swimming pool. And besides that, a multi-purpose sports court lined for basketball and futsal.
"[It is a self-contained community,]" Sunday stated. "[The entire property—the land, the building, the amenities—is for sale as a single lot. The asking price is fifty million dollars.]"
Fifty million. For a whole apartment building. With a garden. And a pool. It wasn't a mere house; it was a compound, A fortress and also home for my family and the perfect shell for the first official headquarters of Meteor Studio. I kinda tempted to purchase it immediately, but like my mom said, never ever take any deal at face value at once. So, I asked Sunday to continued swimming on the Internet, and complied all the deals.