Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Regression
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One time, a junior who was pulling an all-nighter next to me asked me this.
"Senior. If you could go back to the past, what would you want to do?"
"What's with the sudden talk of the past?"
"If we don't chat like this, I'll fall asleep..."
"Quit exaggerating... Anyway, what about you? What would you do if you went back?"
"First off, more than anything else, I'd absolutely stop myself from submitting that resume to a game company. What about you, Team Leader?"
I pondered my junior's question for a moment before opening my mouth.
"...If I went back to the past, I'd probably toss aside those planning docs that were always under scrutiny from the business team and make a game packed with beautiful girls to my own taste."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I was a coward.
A coward who couldn't even seize opportunities because of the uncertainty of the future.
I had successfully joined the mobile game development team I'd always wanted, but I couldn't make the game I truly desired.
Back then, I really didn't have faith that subculture games could succeed.
Whenever I talked to people around me about the games I wanted to make, these were the responses I always got.
-Hojin, get your head straight, man. It's too early for that stuff in Korea. This is Korea, not Japan.
The claim that it was too soon for that kind of game in our country.
-Subculture? IP monetization? Sure, if it succeeds, it's a goldmine. But how many so-called otaku are even in Korea? Don't you know economies of scale?
The argument that there weren't enough otaku in Korea who enjoyed subculture for it to work.
-Even so, a beautiful girl collector game? You think people will shell out thousands of won for these little character illustrations?
The assertion that no one would ever pay money for it.
Looking back now, it was all nonsense from clueless ignoramuses.
Subculture perception was so rock-bottom back then that comments like those were par for the course.
But with the pressure of being the team leader for the newly formed mobile development team and the demands for results, I couldn't ignore them.
And the compromise with reality was this.
-Sigh... Hojin. The division head is furious right now. If it were anywhere else, fine, but Enson’s new title hit number one on the Play Store charts, and the business division's mood is through the roof.
-I... I'm sorry...
-Don't just apologize—do better, please... I heard a few collector game proposals came up from our planning team last time. Why didn't you submit them?
'Like I'd submit them when they'd just get shot down and make the company think we're joking...'
I'd clearly told the director when the mobile team was first formed.
I'd said IP would become crucial, and subculture would be the next blue ocean.
But what did he say? Who'd spend money on collecting those little cartoon scraps?
Otaku have no purchasing power and are few in number—how do you do business targeting them?
I wanted to scream it all out... but in the end, I couldn't say a word.
There was definitely some blame on me for not pushing harder.
Before pointing fingers, that thought lingered.
'Is what I'm doing right now even the right path?'
I turned my head and glanced at the wall. There was a poster from the mobile game we'd developed about a year ago.
A mobile RPG that had launched successfully and was steadily floating in the mid-to-upper ranks of the Play Store revenue charts.
Directors obsessed with sales and performance would be thrilled, but I felt no satisfaction whatsoever.
Instead of the thrill and accomplishment of a successful game, all I felt was a bitter void.
What exactly was the problem?
As my thoughts chained together, memories of my past life started surfacing.
My introduction to subculture came through manga and game consoles my dad brought back from frequent business trips to Japan during my childhood.
What started as casual fun became a core part of my life before I knew it.
The turning point in my otherwise smooth, uneventful life came during my college days.
It was after I joined a subculture club by chance and started making games with friends I met there.
We created a fan game based on a popular doujin circle's work that was all the rage in Japan, and it unexpectedly went viral.
The rush and euphoria from the real-time praise at the doujin game event were indescribable.
That's why I decided to become a game planner—I couldn't forget that feeling.
Recalling those days, I suddenly understood the source of my anguish.
It was me, in the end.
Self-loathing for abandoning my dreams and compromising with reality.
The fact that straying once meant a lifetime of making these boring games was eating away at me.
I had to make a decision.
Would I resign myself to this path, like all "mature adults" do?
Or turn back now, embrace my immaturity, and chase my dreams?
After agonizing over it, I realized I was still that immature adult.
"You're quitting? Why so sudden?"
"I want to try making a game full of beautiful girls that I actually like."
"...Yeah, you've done great here, so you'll do well anywhere. Thanks for your hard work all this time."
It took just 10 minutes to return my employee badge and walk out, leaving the director's oddly knowing gaze behind.
In a mere 10 minutes, my suffocating corporate life was over.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I'd bolted from the company on impulse, but I wasn't too worried.
My severance pay and accumulated performance bonuses had built up into a nice nest egg.
Plus, I had no money-sinking hobbies or dating, so cash barely leaked out.
One day to inform and convince my parents.
Three days catching up on new subculture mobile games I'd missed due to work.
After four days of prep, I dove into planning.
The framework was already sketched out during spare moments at the company, so it flowed smoothly.
No matter how dark or heavy the main story got, there had to be peaceful daily life segments afterward.
The world couldn't reek of depression or PTSD.
The tale needed youth and room for rom-com antics.
It ran counter to the trendy heavy, dark genres in current subculture mobile games, but I wasn't concerned.
Subculture's foundation was casual vibes and youthful stories—and I believed that audience absolutely existed.
Once the story skeleton was set, everything clicked into place.
First, the setting for Academy City 'Arc', the stage for the main story.
Then, the lead characters who'd shine on that stage.
Supporting cast and mobs to flesh out the tale and enrich the leads.
I couldn't rest a wink while padding out the framework and writing the story based on it.
I feared even a brief break would derail the momentum I'd built.
After nearly a month of burning the midnight oil, I completed the planning document.
Girls Memorial Girls Memorial—the title of my debut work, a youthful tale of girls struggling to hold onto peace and everyday life amid trials and tribulations.
*
Staring at the planning doc on screen, lost in thought, I picked up my smartphone and dialed somewhere.
After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.
[Oh, Senior! Long time no talk. I heard you quit—how've you been holding up?]
"Holding up? I nearly died and came back."
[What? With your tenure, severance should've been plenty. Why not recharge with a trip somewhere?]
"Wanted to, but my personality won't let me rest."
[True, you were a workaholic even at the company. So, what's up?]
"Did that experienced hire position I mentioned last time close yet?"
[Probably not. New grads are one thing, but they always lack vets—you know that. Coming here?]
I chuckled at the subtle excitement in my junior's voice.
"Think so. I've got a planning doc finished—want me to send it over?"
[Absolutely! Send it my way, and I'll pass it straight up.]
Hearing her eagerly agree eased the stuffiness I'd felt lately.
"Thanks... Owe you a meal."
I stood to send the doc while listening to her voice.
Thud.
Sudden agony stabbed my chest.
It felt like a knife twisting in my heart; my body went limp on instinct.
Crash—!!
I needed to tell my junior on the line to call an ambulance, but no words came.
All I could do was crawl toward the dropped phone.
[Se-Senior? What's wrong?!]
I had to say something to her... but...
Contrary to my thoughts, her voice faded farther away.
My vision blackened as consciousness sank.
[Senior! Senior!!]
Finally, total darkness claimed my sight, and the end arrived.