In Friton, the morning sun poured through the windows of the Kepler home, bathing the kitchen in a warm, golden glow. It was a picture of domestic tranquility, a stark contrast to the media firestorm brewing trillions of miles away.
Marcus shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He had just come from the direction of Dorian's studio wing.
"Brother is still sleeping in the studio," Marcus yawned, climbing onto his chair.
Lyra, who was already at the table scrolling through her heliopad with one hand and eating toast with the other, looked up. "Wake him up, Marcus. He can't sleep in that chair forever. It'll ruin his posture."
"No, no," John said gently, placing a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Marcus. "Let him sleep. He has been working on composition all night."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"
John smiled, a little sheepishly. "Last night, I couldn't sleep. The air felt... heavy. So I went to the backyard to calm myself and check on the Junimos. On my way back, I passed your brother's room, but he wasn't there. I checked the studio and saw him hunched over his composer desk, completely in the zone. I knocked, but he didn't even hear me. So, I went back to the kitchen, made him a hot chocolate, and brought it to him."
John chuckled softly. "As I gave it to him, he just muttered 'thanks' without even taking his eyes off the screen or his hands off the keys."
Lyra sighed, shaking her head. "You should have stopped him, Dad. He's been doing this way too much lately. A healthy body is one that has enough sleep. Genius or not, he's going to burn out."
"Does Astra Nova Law major teach their students about sleeping patterns instead of the legal code these days?"
The voice was rough with sleep but laced with amusement. Dorian stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his hair a chaotic mess.
"So you're awake," Lyra said, not looking up from her toast.
"Hard not to be when I smell good food," Dorian replied, stifling a yawn.
"You should fix your circadian rhythm, Brother," Lyra chided.
Dorian shuffled to the table and pulled out a chair. "Okay, okay. Too early for my ears to hear a nag, Lyra."
John just chuckled, ruffling Dorian's messy hair as he walked by. "Alright, eat your breakfast. It's fresh."
They ate in a comfortable silence, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery and the soft hum of the house's ventilation. The peace felt earned.
"Want me to fly you to school?" Dorian asked as he finished his coffee.
"Sure," Lyra said, wiping her mouth.
Leo, who had been hovering silently near the ceiling, descended. "I thought my piloting capabilities were sufficient, Lyra."
"Sometimes you just charge through space debris, Leo," Lyra pointed out. "Even with the shields up, I still feel the impact. It's jarring."
"I calculated that the shields would hold with 99.9% probability," Leo countered defensively. "Evasive maneuvers would have added three minutes to our travel time."
"But I still feel it!" Lyra insisted.
The family laughed at the interaction, the warmth of the moment filling the room.
Breakfast finished, the morning routine began. Dorian went to his room to grab his jacket, ready to head to the hangar. Lyra picked up her heliopad, mindlessly browsing the news feed as she waited.
Her thumb froze. Her eyes went wide.
There, screaming at her in bold, aggressive font, was the headline:
'RISING STAR OR FALLING COMET? PERCIVAL CAUGHT IN SCANDAL!'
The blood drained from her face. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She hurried toward John and Marcus, her voice low and urgent.
"Father. Marcus. Leo. Emergency!"
"What is it?" John asked, his voice steady but his eyes instantly alert.
Lyra shoved the heliopad toward him. "Look."
John read the headline, his brow furrowing deep. Marcus peered over his arm, his eyes scanning the aggressive text. "No way," Marcus whispered. "That's not true."
"That's not true," John repeated, his voice harder.
"I know!" Lyra hissed, her hands shaking slightly. "But the rest of the galaxy doesn't know that fact. It's gossip, Dad. Brother has been working so hard. We all know he has a tendency to overthink everything. If he sees this... it will overload his brain. He'll spiral."
"What should we do?" John asked, looking toward the hallway where Dorian was putting on his jacket.
"Commencing Calm of the Reeds Protocol," Leo announced, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Lyra, you make sure Dorian does not see the news. Do not let him look at his wristband or heliopad. Marcus, you are in your holiday week, correct? Go with them. Make sure on the way back he doesn't check the feeds either."
Lyra and Marcus nodded, their faces set with grim determination.
"Master John," Leo continued, "we need to make sure Dorian does not see the news immediately after he gets back. We need a distraction."
"Ah," John snapped his fingers. "Make him play games."
"Great idea," Leo chirped. "We use the excuse of making him relax. If he rejects it, we frame it as 'market research' for his own game."
"Alright Keplers," John said, placing a hand on Lyra and Marcus's shoulders. "You got your mission. We will get through this."
They all nodded in unison.
"Guys!" Dorian's voice echoed from the hallway. He walked back into the living room, patting his pockets. "Do you know where I left the key for my ship? I couldn't–"
He stopped, seeing his family huddled together in a tight circle. "What are you guys doing?"
John straightened up immediately, putting on his best poker face. "It's the floor panel. Marcus said it looked a bit uneven."
"Oh, that side, right," Dorian said, glancing at the floor. "I know. Kind of jarring to see. I'll buy some carpet on the way back to cover it up."
"No," John said quickly. "Just go home straight."
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Why? I was thinking of visiting some port towns around the Lombu belt. Maybe get some inspiration."
"You have been working hard," Leo interjected smoothly. "Master John thinks you should rest immediately."
"Okay..." Dorian drawled, looking at them suspiciously. "So... the key?"
John looked around the living room, spotting the keycard on the side table. He grabbed it. "Here. You left it here the last time you used it."
"Hehe, I forgot," Dorian laughed, taking the key. "I was testing the compatibility of Hades on the heliopad earlier. Speaking of which..." He sighed. "It still needs more work. Oh, where is my heliopad?"
Marcus moved like lightning. He grabbed Dorian's heliopad from the table and flung it over the back of the sofa. It landed with a soft thud on the cushions, completely out of sight.
"I haven't seen it!" Marcus declared, his face the picture of innocence.
Dorian blinked. "Oh well. I probably left it in the studio. Let's go, Lyra. You can't be late for law school. It's the law, after all. Hehe, get it?"
Lyra let out a robotic, terrified laugh. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Alright, let's go, Brother."
"I'm coming with!" Marcus shouted, grabbing his jacket.
Dorian led them out the door, bantering with Lyra and Marcus. He had a nagging suspicion that they were hiding something. Marcus was being too loud, Lyra too agreeable, but he was too tired and happy to push it.
John and Leo watched them from the window as the Millennium Falcon lifted off.
"We should call Ratik," John said, his expression darkening as the ship disappeared into the clouds.
"Calling Manager..." Leo intoned.
A blue hologram popped up from Leo's sensor. It was Ratik. She looked furious, her usually pristine hair slightly out of place, as if she had been running.
"I know what you are about to say," Ratik said before John could speak. "I am handling it. I want you to make sure Dorian doesn't see the news."
"Already handled," John said firmly. "I can count on you, right?"
Ratik's eyes flashed with a cold, terrifying competence. "I will stake every percentage point I own if I can't handle this. I will burn them down."
John nodded. "Please be careful. I don't know who Dorian offended, but they dare to spread lies about my son."
"Yes, I know," Ratik said. "I'm hanging up. I need to redeem a few favors to clean this up."
The hologram vanished. John looked out the window again, his hands clenched into fists. "Whoever did this," he whispered, "better hope Ratik finds them before I do."
…
Ratik's sleek transport ship cut through the busy hyperspace lane, her knuckles white on the controls. The queue for the jump gate was agonizingly slow, giving her time she didn't want but desperately needed.
She initiated a secure, encrypted comms channel. A few seconds later, a small hologram projected from her dashboard.
It was a Gunnossian female, lounging on a chaise in what looked like a very private, very expensive spa. Her translucent, shimmering gown left little to the imagination, and she held a glass of something bubbling and purple.
"Courtie, my dear," the woman drawled, her voice a sultry purr. "I was in the middle of something quite... vigorous. This better be good."
"I am sorry, Raila," Ratik said, her voice clipped and professional. "But I need to redeem the last favor you owe me."
Mar Raila, the current CEO of EMG (Eterna Music Group), raised a delicate eyebrow. She was one of the "Big Three." The titans who controlled eighty percent of the Accord's music industry. Her whimsical demeanor hid a shark that had eaten smaller labels for breakfast.
"My my," Raila smirked, swirling her drink. "It seems serious. Is it your new artist making headlines? The masked boy?"
Ratik nodded once.
"The interesting fellow who grabbed your attention away from the corporate ladder," Raila mused. "I honestly don't want you to use your last favor on this, darling. It feels wasteful."
"This is serious, Raila," Ratik pressed. "The smear campaign is organized. I need a counter-weight."
Raila's smirk deepened into something more intriguing. "How about... a meeting with this composer instead? If he's worth my time, I might just crush a bug that bothering you for fun."
Ratik narrowed her eyes. "A meeting?"
"Now, now," Raila chuckled. "Just a chat. I want to see the genius that made that stubborn old mule Gil Nothos come out of retirement. I'm curious."
"With his identity concealed," Ratik stipulated immediately.
Raila laughed, a high, tinkling sound like breaking glass. "Fufufu. Fine with me. A mystery makes the meal tastier."
She grabbed a thick fur coat and draped it over her shoulders, signaling the end of her leisure time. "See you later, dear."
The hologram vanished. Ratik let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She disengaged the comms system as her ship reached the front of the queue.
"Hyperdrive engaged," she whispered, punching the throttle.
…
Meanwhile, in the grand lecture hall of Astra Nova, Lyra sat at her desk, staring blankly at the holographic projection of the Accord Penal Code. The words were blurring together. She couldn't focus. All she could think about was the headline, the lies, and her brother's clueless smile as he walked out the door.
"Little Lyra... hey."
A hand waved in front of her face. Lyra blinked, snapping out of her daze.
Hana Vhan, her best friend and a fellow law student two years older, was leaning over her desk, looking concerned. "What happened to you today? You look like you saw a ghost."
Lyra opened her mouth, then closed it. How could she explain? 'My brother is being slandered by the entire galaxy and I try to hide the news?'
"It's because of Percival, isn't it?" Hana said softly.
Lyra froze. "What?"
"Don't deny it," Hana smiled gently. "I saw you checking the news earlier. Don't be too down. I am also a fan of him. I believe in him. You're a secret fan too, right? I knew it. I can see it in your eyes."
Lyra's heart hammered in her chest. 'She doesn't know. She thinks I'm just a fan.'
"Ha... ha ha... yes," Lyra stammered, forcing a robotic laugh. "I am a... huge fan. Too."
"Like I said, don't worry," Hana said, her expression hardening slightly. "But that damn Nazir guy... he dares to drag Percival's name through the mud?" She took a breath, smoothing her uniform, reminding herself to act befitting of a Senator's daughter. "The truth will come out."
Lyra looked at her friend. Hana was kind, influential, and loyal. An idea began to form in Lyra's desperate mind.
"Hana," Lyra said, her voice low. "Your father is a Senator in the Core Rims, right?"
Hana smiled and nodded. "Yes. Why?"
"Actually," Lyra leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I was... acquainted with Percival's manager. If you help me with something... I can give you his autograph. A personalized one."
Hana stood up so fast her chair screeched against the floor.
"WHAT?!" she shouted.
The entire class turned to look at her. The professor paused mid-sentence.
Hana went bright red. She coughed, sitting back down slowly. "Sorry," she squeaked to the room.
She turned back to Lyra, her eyes burning with an intense fire. "I will help you," she whispered fiercely. "As long as it is within my capability. Name it."
…
Back in Friton, the living room had become a battlefield of forced enthusiasm. John and Marcus sat on the edge of the couch, their eyes locked on the holographic screen where Dorian was playing a generic space shooter called Void Raider 7.
"Whoa! Look at that reload animation!" Marcus shouted, pointing at the screen where Dorian's character simply swapped a battery pack. "It's so... efficient!"
"And the way that enemy exploded?" John added, clapping his hands. "Minimal debris. Very clean. The physics engine must be... robust."
Dorian sat slumped in the middle, the controller resting lazily in his hands. He fired a shot. Pew. An enemy fell over.
He sighed, dropping the controller into his lap. "This is boring. The UI is obnoxious; why is the ammo counter taking up a quarter of the screen? And there is no sense of progression at all. I shoot things, I get points, but the points don't buy anything. It feels meaningless."
"So now you know the perimeter of the average game, Dorian," Leo stated from his perch on the bookshelf. "You have established a baseline of mediocrity."
"Think about it, Brother," Marcus said, trying to salvage the distraction. "It helps you to know more about the market! As a founder of a game studio, you should know your competition, right?"
Dorian rubbed his eyes. "Alright, I guess you're right. But now I know. So let me go back to–"
"One more game, Dorian," Leo interrupted quickly.
Dorian groaned. "What! Again? I have work to do."
"This time is your pick," Leo countered. "Choose something closer to your own genre."
Dorian paused, then sighed. "Fine."
He browsed the Void marketplace on the console. After a few minutes of scrolling past endless shooters and racing sims, he found it. Galactic Harvest. It was a game with a similar style and genre to Stardew Valley.
He looked at the purchase options.
Basic Package: 60 Credits
Deluxe Package: 120 Credits
Supreme Deluxe Package: 200 Credits
"What the hell?" Dorian muttered. "Basic, Deluxe, and Supreme Deluxe? Just for the base game?"
"It is an industry standard, Dorian," Leo explained.
Dorian grumbled but bought the Basic Package. The installation was instant. He booted it up. The title screen was a shamelessly similar pixel-art farm, though the colors were oversaturated and the music was a generic, looping midi track.
'Can I really be mad?' Dorian thought, watching the character sprite walk stiffly across the screen. 'I also just copied the game I had in my Mnemonic Echo. Granted, I tweaked and improved a lot of it... but still.'
He shrugged. "It's too complicated to think about the ethics right now. Let's just play."
He pressed [START GAME].
A pop-up window slammed onto the screen.
ALERT: STORY MODE LOCKED.
To access the narrative campaign, please upgrade to the Deluxe or Supreme Deluxe version.
Dorian froze. He stared at the screen. "What the fuck... are you serious?!"
"It is industry standard," Leo repeated, his voice calm. "See? You are learning a lot. You can implement these monetization strategies in your next project to maximize profit–"
Dorian stood up so fast the couch shook. "NO! I just bought their game! And you tell me I have to pay double just to play the core of the game? What is the point of the Basic Package? To look at the menu?!"
He threw the controller onto the couch cushions. "I'm done. This is garbage. I need to do my daily meeting with my team anyway."
He jumped over the back of the couch and stormed off toward his studio wing, muttering about "predatory microtransactions."
The moment the studio door hissed shut, the tension in the living room broke.
"It's safe for now," John exhaled, slumping back.
"He will not see the news while having a meeting, right?" Marcus asked, looking worried.
"He usually focuses entirely on the coding and the art assets," Leo assured them. "He rarely checks the external net during deep-work sessions. For now, we can rest."
John and Marcus let out a long, synchronized sigh of relief. They had bought him a few hours. Now, it was up to Ratik.
…
Inside the holographic meeting space, the atmosphere was relaxed, almost familial. The daily scrum for Round Table Studios.
"I think that's it, Arthur," Lin Liseli said, stretching her arms above her head in her own room. "I'll have the rendering for the Elysium biome done by tonight."
"Thank you, Lin," Arthur replied warmly. "Oh, Logan, Bem, Kasavin? You three have extensive experience in the standard gaming industry, yes?"
"Yes, unfortunately," Logan grunted, taking a sip of his caf.
Kasavin nodded. "Decades of it."
"Locking features behind a Deluxe Edition," Arthur mused. "That is standard industry practice, correct?"
Logan nodded vigorously. "Yes, it is. Actually, that's what I wanted to talk about. Hades is a massive game. I was thinking we could lock some of the later floors, maybe the Temple of Styx behind a 'Divine Edition' paywall. It would maximize revenue per user."
"So you are saying only the highest-paying customers get to see the ending?" Arthur asked, his tone unreadable.
They all nodded. It was such an ingrained concept that none of them even questioned the morality of it. It was just how business was done.
Dorian sighed, the frustration from his earlier gaming session bubbling up again. "We will not follow that standard. The full game will have just one edition. The Complete Edition."
Bem blinked. "So... we are just going to charge the highest amount only?"
"No," Arthur said firmly. "We will charge the basic price. One purchase. Everything included."
Silence fell over the call.
"I think the big studios will say you are ruining the ecosystem," Logan warned, though a small smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Liseli grinned. "I think it's too late for that. There are already numerous articles about Stardew Valley ruining the standard for graphics and player engagement. We might as well burn the whole rulebook."
Arthur chuckled. "We will create the new standard. Keep up the good work! Any more questions?"
They all shook their heads.
"And with that, today's meeting is adjourned."
The official business ended, but the connection remained open. They had grown close over the months, finding comfort in this shared creative space. They chatted about rendering techniques and code optimization.
Then, Liseli's voice cut through the casual chatter. "Dalle... did you hear about Composer Percival?"
Dorian stopped coding mid-keystroke. His heart skipped a beat.
"I know," Ross Dalle replied, his three-jointed fingers stilling on his instrument. "It is kind of sudden."
"You are swimming around the music industry, Dalle," Bem asked, leaning into his camera. "So... is the news true?"
"Well," Dalle said thoughtfully. "Calling it 'news' is a stretch. It is mostly rumors. Unrelated photos put side-by-side to create a narrative. But the accusations are heavy."
"What are you guys talking about?" Arthur asked, his voice tight.
Kasavin looked at the camera, surprised. "You haven't seen the article? It's everywhere. It says Composer Percival is... doing drugs. Involved in illicit trade."
Dorian felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
"Well, like Dalle said," Liseli chimed in, trying to keep the mood light. "It's just gossip. We don't even know if—"
Her voice became muffled. In fact, every sound began to muffle, as if Dorian were slowly sinking underwater. The studio around him blurred.
'What happened?' his mind raced, spiraling into a vortex of panic. 'Is it because I helped Nazir? Is this... is this my fault? Or is this someone who wants to put me down after all the success I had? Did I fly too close to the sun?'
He couldn't hear the team anymore. He couldn't breathe.
"Sorry guys," Arthur's voice cracked, sounding distant even to his own ears. "I got something urgent."
Before the team could say anything, Dorian slammed his hand onto the disconnect button. The holograms vanished. The room went dark.
He sat there, hyperventilating, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He forced himself to take a breath. 'Calm down. Calm down.'
Slowly, the world turned back to his vision. The muffled silence faded into the hum of the servers. He raised his wristband. The notification light was blinking an angry red. He tapped it.
The hologram popped up. The headline seared into his retinas.
'RISING STAR OR FALLING COMET? PERCIVAL CAUGHT IN SCANDAL!'
It grounded him. Seeing the lie in black and white stopped the spiral and replaced it with a cold, hard anger.
"None of this is true," he muttered, his voice steadying.
He tapped his band again.
[Calling Manager Ratik…]
⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙
🎮:
- Stardwey Valley: Completed.
- Hades: 54%█████▒▒▒▒▒
🎬: -
♬̴͎̿:̴̫͑
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̵̞͑-̷̗́ ̵̱̅Á̸̼ ̴̗̀L̵̩̿o̸̞̿v̵̛̩e̷̡͛l̸̖͝y̵̠͐ ̷̨̑Ṋ̸̒i̷̯̎ğ̷̟h̶̖̕t̴̪͒ ̵͎̐–̵̛͙ ̵͚̕L̸͉̾á̴̧ ̶̳̏L̴̙̎ả̷̯ ̴̟̈L̴̼͊a̷̩̾ṇ̴̎d̸̤̆ ̵̰̄(̷̘͠c̷̲̈h̶̺̽.̴͓͘2̵͈͗0̷̩̆)̸̩̊
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**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**