Welcome to the Factory

I turned on my phone screen to check the time, only to find a couple of unread message notifications.

How long has it been since I retired as a pro gamer? And they're still calling me "Player."

My old coach should have given up by now, yet he kept persistently reaching out.

I looked down at my hand.

Four years had passed since the accident. On the surface, it looked perfectly fine, and it didn't hinder my daily life at all.

I just couldn't play professionally anymore.

With a practiced flick of my thumb, I swiped away the notifications, leaving only the push notification for a live stream.

It was time for my favorite M-Tuber's broadcast. I didn't have time to waste on messages I had no intention of reading.

I booted up my computer, joined the live stream, and immediately sent a donation.

My nickname and donation message popped up in giant letters across the chat window.

The M-Tuber smiled brightly and called out my name.

"Welcome, Gunbam!"

[Gunbam: Hello]

My greeting was instantly buried under a torrent of chat messages from the other enthusiastic viewers.

My favorite M-Tuber's stream didn't have many viewers.

There were only a few dozen people at most, but perhaps because they were all die-hard fans, the chat was incredibly active compared to other streams.

Another peculiar thing was that while small-scale streams usually fostered a lot of friendly banter among viewers, the people here had absolutely zero interest in one another.

They were only busy shouting their own demands at the M-Tuber.

But I actually preferred it that way. It was much more comfortable since there was no unnecessary socializing.

"I was waiting just for you, Gunbam."

[Gunbam: I've been waiting for the stream too.]

More than anything, I genuinely liked this M-Tuber.

I smiled shyly as I sent the message.

Having debuted as a pro gamer at nineteen, I had built a decent career before retiring.

It was a forced retirement due to an accident, and becoming unemployed overnight left me incredibly bored.

So, in search of something to cure my boredom, I started playing games again.

After immersing myself in various online games, I eventually turned my attention to packaged games, conquering everything from AAA titles to indie games without discrimination.

That was when I stumbled upon an indie game that perfectly suited my tastes.

I stayed up for two consecutive nights to see every single ending, which naturally led me to search for the developer's other works.

Eventually, I happened to drift into a live stream hosted by the developer themselves.

That was exactly two years ago.

As a loyal viewer of the developer, I came to enjoy an incredible privilege: playtesting games that were still in development.

Since they were a solo developer, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠games were all pixel-art indies.

However, thanks to the creative settings and stories, I found myself more immersed in them than in any other game.

The genres were so diverse that they never overlapped, and remarkably, all of those games were connected under one massive overarching universe.

It was known as the "Archive World."

For two years, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had spent a wonderful time in his world, playtesting the games he handed over to me.

Excited to see what kind of game he had brought this time, I typed in the chat.

[Gunbam: The game you gave me last time was really fun.]

"I knew you'd find the True Ending, Gunbam."

How did they know I cleared the True Ending?

I blinked in surprise.

But then again, they probably knew I stayed up all night to see every single ending of every game they sent me, so it wasn't that strange.

Shaking off my doubt, I asked a question.

[Gunbam: What game are we playing today?]

Somehow picking my message out of the chaotic flood of chat, the M-Tuber smirked.

"Hmm, there's no game today."

Then, they suddenly leaned in close to the camera.

With their face filling the entire screen, I unconsciously leaned back in my chair.

Under the studio lights, the M-Tuber's eyes gleamed as they whispered, "And there won't be any in the future, either."

My heart sank.

"No more games?"

For someone like me who had enjoyed all kinds of games thanks to this M-Tuber, this was a bolt from the blue.

Unlike me, who was frozen in shock, the M-Tuber seemed unusually excited today.

They looked so thrilled that anyone would have thought they had just won the lottery.

The M-Tuber's bombshell announcement sent the chat into a frenzy.

Amidst the cascading wall of text, I managed to move my fingers.

[Gunbam: That's a shame... May I ask why?]

"Because it's finally over."

The M-Tuber spoke in an incredibly relieved voice.

"Thank you for everything. It's all thanks to you, Gunbam."

Does this mean they're quitting streaming altogether?

Are they still going to make games? Or are they quitting development too...?

It was common for solo ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠developers to abandon their work due to various circumstances.

But it was such a waste. They were a developer with genius talent.

Just look at how much the viewers of this stream loved their games.

Can't they at least ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠release a few of them on Early Access?

Knowing that there were already several highly polished games, I bit my lip.

I began typing a chat message to ask for details, but my fingers froze.

It should have been impossible, but I felt as if my eyes had locked with the M-Tuber's through the screen.

Staring straight into the camera, the M-Tuber's lips stretched into a wide, unnatural grin.

At that exact moment, a warm sensation rushed down my face, and my nose began to bleed.

"Ugh..."

My eyes burned, and a throbbing headache split my skull.

Is it because I stayed up all night before watching the stream?

As I hastily stood up to look for a tissue, a voice echoed from the speakers.

"Gunbam, you are the best viewer I have ever met. If it's you, you can do it. Because I found you, and I confirmed it."

I finally found a tissue, plugged my nose, and looked back at the screen.

The M-Tuber was still staring directly into the camera.

"From now on, I suppose I will be your viewer."

None of what they were saying had made any sense for a while now. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tapped the keyboard with one hand.

[Gunbam: I don't understand what you mean.]

"I'm looking forward to it. I've really waited for so long. So, so, so long."

By this point, it was impossible not to notice that the M-Tuber's state was abnormal.

They didn't seem drunk. Could they be on drugs...?

As a long-time loyal viewer, I was about to type a message suggesting they end the stream for now.

"Shall we begin then?"

Then, he called my name.

"Han Goyo."

A name I had never once told him.

"Huh?"

The moment my lips parted, the entire world distorted.

My studio apartment, which had been perfectly normal just a second ago, was dyed in mottled fluorescent colors and crumpled as if melting away.

With a cheerful chime, a system window popped up before my eyes.

System windows filled with incomprehensible information surged up, blocking my vision. I lost consciousness right after reading the very last system window.

String music echoed through a worn-out speaker.

I frowned as the constant static mixed into the drawn-out notes grated on my ears.

Groaning, I opened my eyes.

A sight I had never seen in my life stretched out before me.

A colorful interior. A mural featuring a giant, cute character. Toy package boxes stacked high like a Christmas tree.

No matter how I looked at it, this space was a far cry from my studio apartment.

It looks like some kind of toy factory.

Pressing my temples to soothe the lingering headache, I scanned my surroundings once more.

A large sign with rounded, bubbly typography caught my eye.

The letters were incredibly familiar. Even as I stared at them, I couldn't believe my eyes, and the words slipped past my lips.

"Happy Smile Factory...?"

I hurriedly re-examined the character mural I had briefly glanced at earlier.

The children's toys depicted alongside the cute slogan were all wearing blissful smiles.

Cold sweat began to drench my back.

Because Happy Smile Factory was...

A game made by my favorite developer.

Did the developer kidnap me and lock me in a place modeled after his game?

It was the most plausible hypothesis, but it was still utterly ridiculous.

Who would kidnap an unemployed, retired pro gamer? It would be the most pointless crime in the world.

Frozen by the sheer absurdity of the situation, I slowly pushed myself up from the floor.

"...Wow."

I let out a hollow laugh, stopping halfway up as I looked down at what I was wearing.

I was dressed in the uniform of the Happy Smile Factory.

On the chest of the bright, eye-catching lime-green jumpsuit was a name tag adorned with the Happy Smile logo.

I scratched at the embroidered patch with my fingernail, but it was firmly stitched on and wouldn't budge.

I rummaged through my pockets to see if there was anything useful, but found nothing but lint.

Instead, a pouch containing a flashlight was slung around my waist.

It was the exact same start as the game's intro.

"This is insane."

A curse slipped out automatically. I ran a hand over my face.

Happy Smile Factory was the very first game I had playtested for the developer.

The plot revolved around a player who wakes up in a toy factory and must escape while recovering their lost memories and uncovering the factory's hidden secrets.

The problem was the toys.

The toys here absolutely loathed "adults." Thus, they sought to eliminate any adult—namely, the player—who trespassed into the factory without permission.

So, if things were to play out exactly like in Happy Smile Factory...

I would have to escape the factory while evading murderous toys.

If some lunatic had gone through the trouble of setting up a factory of this scale, they would have undoubtedly prepared killers in toy costumes as well.

What should I do?

I abandoned normal, common-sense logic and tried to adapt to the mindset of a madman.

For starters, I figured it wouldn't hurt to treat this like a game playthrough.

If it followed the game, the goal was simply to escape the factory.

I cautiously took a few steps and crossed the lobby. Just as I was about to enter the inner facility—

Crash!

A massive explosion echoed from deep within the factory.

Don't tell me the toys are already on the move?

If so, staying out in the open was a terrible idea.

I vaulted over the turnstile gate at the entrance and ran inside.

Thick dust billowed up, obscuring my vision. I loosely covered my nose with my sleeve, looking for a place to hide.

Suddenly, something clamped tightly around my neck and hoisted me into the air.

"Ack!"

The hard, plastic texture choked off my airway. But before I could even struggle, my captor quickly set me back down on the floor.

A bewildered voice rang out.

"What? A civilian?"

As the dust cleared, the person who had choked me came into view.

She was a sharp-featured beauty with short hair and a small frame.

Standing beside her was a man wearing the same jumpsuit.

The moment my eyes met the woman's, a rectangular system window popped up.