Nan
"Mm…"
What time is it?
Where am I?
Vivian Frost cracked her eyes open and immediately regretted it.
Pain pulsed through her shoulders, her neck, and her back—like she'd been folded into a suitcase and left under a train seat. The first thing she saw was a soft pink ceiling, the kind she'd painted years ago when she still believed "cute and cozy" could beat the chaos outside. Sunlight poured in through the curtains like it had no idea what kind of night she'd lived through.
Vivian blinked twice.
Then reality hit her like a sledgehammer.
"…No way."
She turned her head slightly and saw her laptop on the table, still open. Still logged in. Still waiting.
She had passed out in the living room. Again.
Her mouth twisted into a bitter line.
"That damned Ethan Reed… and that damned Jar Man game…"
She tried to sit up and her spine immediately filed a complaint.
"Ugh—!"
Vivian dragged herself upright, hair a complete disaster, vest wrinkled, socks mismatched. She looked like a CEO who lost a boxing match with her own furniture.
But the pain wasn't what mattered.
Only one thing mattered.
The game.
With a shaky breath, she snapped the laptop fully awake and stared at the backend of Skybound, the distribution platform.
The page hadn't refreshed since last night.
Her heart beat faster.
"Okay," she whispered, half praying, half threatening the universe. "We don't need a miracle. Just fifty. Sell fifty copies. That's enough."
She refreshed.
Then covered her eyes with one hand.
Slowly, like someone defusing a bomb, she moved her fingers apart and peeked at the screen through one eye.
A single number appeared first.
"0"
Her heart dropped.
Then she blinked harder.
The numbers shifted as the page finished loading.
"70"
Vivian froze.
Joy surged up her chest so fast she nearly choked on it.
"W—what?!"
Seventy copies?!
On the first night?!
That was… that was actually good! If they could sell seventy without promotion, then with a little attention they could hit a thousand in a week. Maybe more. Maybe—
Vivian leaned closer.
Her smile slowly stopped.
Because she realized something horrifying.
That "70" wasn't the full number.
It was the last two digits.
She wiped her eyes, leaned in again, and read the full figure properly.
"070…"
"070?"
Her brain refused to process it.
Then the number snapped into full clarity:
15070
Vivian's mouth fell open.
A sound escaped her throat—half gasp, half choking duck.
"Gah—!"
She burped.
Then stood there, frozen, hands on her waist, staring at the screen like it had just confessed murder.
"Fifteen… thousand?"
She whispered it once, like the words needed permission.
Then louder, like volume could make it real:
"FIFTEEN THOUSAND COPIES?!"
Fifteen thousand overnight.
A game released with zero marketing.
A two-person company.
A torture game with a jar-man, a hammer, and the emotional stability of a demolition crew.
This didn't make sense.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Vivian's hands started shaking.
She grabbed her phone and called the only person who could possibly explain this.
Ethan Reed.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then a sleepy voice answered.
"Hello… boss?"
Vivian didn't even breathe.
"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"What? What did I do?"
"Our game sold fifteen thousand copies!" Vivian's voice climbed higher with every word. "Did you hire fake reviews? Did you pay bots? Did you—wait, you don't even have money! Where would you even get the cash?!"
A pause.
Then Ethan's voice, calm and almost amused:
"To be precise… it's closer to sixteen thousand now."
Vivian nearly threw the phone.
"HOW?!"
Ethan sounded confused. "Boss, didn't you upload it? I was about to ask you the same thing. Did you pay for promotion? Because our game is on the Skybound front page. It's literally the first thing people see."
Vivian went silent.
Pay?
She had a little over seven thousand credits left in the company account. Rent was due. Gas was due. Food was due. If she paid for promotion, she'd be drinking tap water and eating air.
And besides—Skybound didn't work like that. Not officially. And even if it did, front-page placement wouldn't come cheap.
"…Where are you?" she asked sharply.
"At the office."
"The office?! I gave you two days off!"
"I was bored at home," Ethan replied casually. "The office has better PCs, faster net, and it's fun to play games here."
Vivian's eye twitched.
"And how did you get the key?"
"You gave it to me."
"…Wait for me."
She hung up and immediately refreshed the backend again.
The numbers jumped.
Not slowly.
Not gently.
They jumped like a rocket launch.
Getting Over It: 16131
In just a few minutes, over a thousand more copies sold.
Vivian stared at the screen, chest tight.
This wasn't a small hit.
This was an explosion.
She forced herself to calm down, then rushed to the bathroom. She changed clothes. Fixed her hair. Put on clean socks—pink boat socks, because she still had standards—and white sneakers.
Then she grabbed her keys.
Her small Bao X4 roared to life, and she drove like she was chasing her own future.
---
Half an Hour Later
Seventh Floor, Tech Building – Northstar Games
Vivian stormed in and found Ethan sitting casually at his desk, watching charts and tabs like he'd been born in the glow of a monitor.
She dragged a chair over and dropped into it.
"Explain," she demanded. "Now."
Ethan shrugged. "It's not complicated. A major streamer played it."
Vivian frowned. "A streamer? That doesn't explain this kind of sales."
Ethan tapped the screen and pulled up the clips.
"One streamer started it. Kai Lewis. He's huge right now—real viewers, not bots. He played it live, got destroyed, screamed, and the clip spread like wildfire."
Vivian narrowed her eyes.
"Kai Lewis… Isn't he a former Dream Soul competitive guy? Why would his audience care about our game?"
Ethan leaned back. "Boss, categories don't matter. Traffic matters. He has over 100k live viewers daily. That's organic heat. After he screamed 'GAIA' on stream, other streamers copied it. Then more did. Now everyone wants to 'test their sanity' for entertainment."
Vivian paused.
Then nodded slowly.
That actually made sense.
When people watch streamers, they aren't watching skill.
They're watching emotion.
And nothing sells emotion like a game designed to humiliate the player.
Vivian's phone buzzed with notifications. Clips. Shares. Tags.
The most popular trending phrase right now?
"BREAKDOWN."
Vivian's lips parted in disbelief.
"So…" she said, voice trembling with excitement, "if we keep this momentum… we can hit thirty thousand copies today."
Ethan nodded. "Most likely."
Vivian's eyes sparkled like neon.
"This week… one hundred thousand?"
Ethan considered it, then nodded again.
Vivian's excitement rose like champagne foam.
"Two hundred thousand a month wouldn't be a problem!"
Ethan turned slowly and stared at her like she'd grown an extra head.
"Boss… how did you reach that number?"
"Because we sold thirty thousand in one day!"
Ethan's mouth twitched.
He sighed. "You still don't understand."
Vivian frowned. "Understand what?"
Ethan leaned forward, tapping the screen. "This game sells because it's streamer-friendly. People want to watch their favorite streamer suffer. They buy the game to join the trend, to feel included, to say 'I tried it too,' or to talk trash with proof."
Vivian blinked. "But if they buy it… they'll play it."
Ethan laughed. "Who told you that?"
Vivian stared. "Why would someone buy a game and not play it?"
Ethan looked at her like she was adorable and terrifying at the same time.
"Boss… people buy games like they buy shoes. Some are worn. Some just sit there. Fifteen credits is lunch money. They're paying for a moment, not a lifestyle."
Vivian sat back, processing.
Ethan reached out and lightly tapped her forehead—more teasing than rude.
"Just remember this," he said. "This kind of viral hit burns hot, then cools fast."
Vivian covered her forehead, eyes narrowing.
"Chief Planner," she said slowly, "you're being very disrespectful."
"How?"
"The way you look at me. And that forehead tap. And you made me buy food for you earlier!"
"You offered!" Ethan protested.
Vivian opened her mouth—
Then realized she really had offered.
"…I did it because I didn't want you to die in the office," she said stiffly, saving face the only way she knew how.
Ethan grinned.
Vivian huffed and waved a hand. "Fine. Forget it. You handle the game. I'll handle the money."
Then her face grew serious.
"But speaking of money… I can't pay bonuses right now. Skybound pays out next month."
Ethan blinked. "So?"
Vivian leaned forward, eyes sharp. "We sign a contract."
"For what?"
Vivian smiled like she'd just invented fire.
"Equity. There are only two of us. I own all the shares. I give you some. You skip the bonus. Deal?"
Ethan stared at her. "Shares? You're sure?"
Vivian waved it off. "Without this game, Northstar would've closed. I'm investing in your ability."
Then she declared proudly:
"I'll give you 25%. From now on, this is your company too."
She waited for gratitude.
Instead, Ethan looked at her strangely.
After a long moment, he asked quietly:
"Boss… do you have a weak understanding of money?"
Vivian's face flushed.
"WHAT did you just say?!"
And just like that, the bickering began again.
---
Half an hour later, a knock came at the door.
A delivery worker stood outside with two large bags.
Vivian emerged from her office at the perfect moment, swinging her hips like she'd just won a war.
"Even if there are only two of us," she said proudly, dropping the bags on the table, "we still need a victory celebration!"
Ethan laughed.
Vivian frowned. "Don't laugh. Open the bag."
Ethan did.
Food.
Snacks.
And beer.
Ethan paused. "Boss… you drink?"
"How can you celebrate without alcohol?"
"You drove here."
Vivian froze.
Then lifted her chin with righteous confidence.
"…I'll take a cab."
She cracked open a can, raised it, and looked at Ethan.
"Come on, Chief Planner."
"Let's celebrate the game's success."
Ethan lifted his beer and clinked it gently against hers.
"To Northstar Games."
Vivian smiled—naive, bright, rich in a way the city couldn't fake.
And for the first time in years, she looked like someone who truly believed tomorrow could be better.
In a place like this…
That kind of belief was rare.
And dangerously beautiful.