After breakfast, Foca and Luca headed to Bread Music, with Foca behind the wheel.
It wasn't that Luca didn't know how to drive.
He absolutely did.
That was precisely the problem.
As much as Foca was steadily, hopelessly falling for Luca...
Some things would simply never change.
One of those things?
Luca was permanently banned from driving whenever Foca was in the passenger seat.
Absolutely.
Fucking.
Not.
Luca had this deeply concerning habit of treating ordinary highways like they were the final lap of NASCAR.
Or worse...
Grand Theft Auto.
Every drive somehow became a high-speed adventure that left Foca questioning his life choices, his mortality, and whether seatbelts alone were enough to keep a soul tethered to its body.
Now that they'd finally begun this new chapter together...
There wasn't a chance in hell Foca was risking both of their lives over Luca's unnecessary need for speed.
So, with one very responsible driver and one mildly offended passenger, the trip to Bread Music was wonderfully smooth.
No speeding.
No near-death experiences.
No emergency prayers.
Exactly how Foca liked it.
By the time they arrived at the office building, however...
Something immediately felt...
Off.
The atmosphere was strangely heavy.
Almost suffocating.
Which made absolutely no sense.
Everyone should've been buzzing with excitement.
The company Christmas party was just around the corner, and the grand prize for the Employee of the Year wasn't some fancy coffee machine or an all-expenses-paid vacation.
No.
Foca was literally giving away a fully paid house and lot.
Not just any house and lot either.
One selected from his rather absurdly extensive real estate portfolio.
If anything, morale should've been through the roof.
Instead...
It felt like someone had announced the end of the world.
Even Hanna, the company's endlessly cheerful receptionist, looked like she'd lost a fight with life itself.
Normally, Hanna was the definition of put together.
Her makeup?
Always flawless.
Her outfits?
Serving.
Her hair?
Immaculate.
Her heels?
Weapons of mass destruction disguised as stilettos.
Today...
There was barely any makeup.
Her hair looked like she'd declared war on hairbrushes.
She wore an oversized hoodie, faded jeans, and sneakers.
Sneakers.
Hanna.
In sneakers.
Honestly...
That alone should've triggered a company-wide emergency meeting.
Luca leaned slightly toward Foca.
"...Is it just me, or does this place suddenly feel gloomy as hell?"
Foca frowned.
"No."
"It's definitely not just you."
Before either of them could investigate further...
A loud sob suddenly echoed across the lobby.
One of the female employees, dressed in a tracksuit, stared at her phone with tears streaming down her face.
"NOOOOOOO!"
She clutched the phone to her chest as though it had personally betrayed her.
"PLEASE COME BACK!"
"BRING BACK MY WOLF BOI!"
...
Silence.
Then...
Like someone had pressed a giant emotional domino.
Another employee burst into tears.
Then another.
Someone else slammed both hands onto a desk.
"This is BULLSHIT!"
A different employee stared blankly into space, looking as though her soul had quietly clocked out for the day.
One woman slowly slid down the wall in dramatic defeat.
Another was angrily typing what was undoubtedly a seventeen-paragraph essay online.
Yet another simply whispered...
"...Why..."
"...Why would they do this to him..."
Foca and Luca exchanged a look.
Neither of them had the faintest clue what was happening.
What made the whole situation even stranger was that almost everyone having a full-blown emotional crisis was either one of the women in the office...
Or one of the guys who was openly gay or bisexual.
The straight dudes?
Completely fine.
One of them casually walked past carrying a mug of coffee.
"Morning, boss."
Another was happily eating a sandwich.
Someone else was discussing spreadsheets.
Business as usual.
It was as though half the office had survived the apocalypse...
While the other half had absolutely no idea it had even happened.
Foca slowly looked around the room.
Then back at Luca.
"...This..."
He blinked once.
"...Feels like a Black Mirror episode."
****
Just then...
Foca and Luca heard a voice behind them.
"Fantastic."
A dramatic sigh followed.
"Looks like I ain't the only one grieving today."
The two turned around.
...Only to instinctively take a step back.
Standing before them...
Was Tuesday.
Not regular Tuesday.
No.
This was...
Widowed Tuesday.
She was dressed head to toe in black.
A figure-hugging bodycon dress.
Three-inch black heels.
A delicate black lace veil draped over her face.
She looked less like she was reporting to work...
And more like she was on her way to bury the love of her life.
Even her accessories had committed to the bit.
Hanging elegantly from her arm was her beloved Prada handbag.
The Prada handbag.
The one Foca had gifted her five years ago.
The same bag that, the last time he'd visited her house, had been displayed inside a glass cabinet like it was an ancient holy relic.
Foca could count on one hand how many times she'd actually used it.
Apparently...
Today qualified as a national tragedy.
"...Umm..."
Luca carefully tested the waters.
"Good morning?"
Tuesday slowly turned her head.
Then stared directly into his soul.
The sheer emptiness in her eyes made both Luca and Foca genuinely question whether they were witnessing a ghost.
"...What's so good about the morning?"
Her voice was completely devoid of life.
Then...
Her gaze landed on Foca and Luca standing beside each other.
Something inside her visibly snapped.
"...Really?"
She pointed accusingly at the both of them.
"You two are seriously gonna stand there looking all lovey-dovey and shit?"
"I've been mourning since sunrise!"
"The pink atmosphere around y'all is making me physically ill."
She dramatically placed the back of her hand against her forehead.
"Have some damn respect for the grieving!"
Without another word...
She stormed past them.
Her heels clicked dramatically against the floor like punctuation marks.
Silence.
Foca blinked.
Luca blinked.
"..."
"...The fuck just happened?" Luca finally asked.
"I think..."
A familiar voice answered from nearby.
"I can provide a little context."
Both men turned.
Hyouka approached them with her usual bright smile.
Unlike Tuesday's full commitment to funeral couture, Hyouka was dressed surprisingly simply today.
A white shirt.
Jeans.
Sneakers.
Casual.
Comfortable.
Suspiciously normal.
"I would very much appreciate some context," Foca said almost immediately.
"Not here."
Hyouka lowered her voice.
"Let's talk somewhere private."
The seriousness in her tone immediately wiped away whatever jokes either of them had been about to make.
Foca and Luca exchanged another glance.
Questions were rapidly multiplying.
Answers, however...
Were nowhere to be found.
So, without another word, the three headed toward Foca's office.
...
The moment they stepped inside...
They found Tuesday already there.
At nine o'clock in the morning.
Holding a glass of rum.
Neat.
Foca blinked.
"...Is that..."
"Yes," Hyouka answered before he could finish.
"It is."
Tuesday took a dramatic sip.
The moment she noticed Hyouka, her face scrunched up in pure offense.
"Of course Miss Hyouka comes in here looking all radiant."
She pointed accusingly.
"All glowy."
"All blooming."
"'Cause Mr. Dewberry watered her flower thoroughly."
Tuesday pointed dramatically at herself.
"LOOK AT ME!"
"I look like a whole damn wreck!"
She looked seconds away from ugly crying.
"What did I do to deserve this?"
"I saved my pulls!"
"I budgeted responsibly!"
"I stayed loyal!"
"I hyped my wolf boi up every single update!"
A heartbreaking sob escaped her.
"Only for a bunch of fucking femcels to get him cancelled!"
She clutched her rum like it was emotional support liquid.
"I just want my wolf boi back..."
Luca slowly raised a finger.
"...I'm sorry."
"...Femcels?"
His confusion had now reached critical levels.
Hyouka sighed.
"Female incels."
She walked over and gently rubbed Tuesday's back while the latter looked one inconvenience away from writing poetry in a cemetery.
"...It's been a rough morning."
****
Once Tuesday had finally calmed down...
Well.
Calmed down enough.
Foca and Luca took their seats on the couch opposite Tuesday and Hyouka.
The room fell quiet.
Hyouka took a slow, steady breath before reaching into her bag and pulling out her tablet.
"In order for this whole situation to make sense," she began, "I have to start from the very beginning."
She tapped the screen a few times.
"It all started with Love in Deep Galaxies."
She turned the tablet so both men could see.
"It's a gacha, open-world action RPG that's become one of the biggest trends in mobile and PC gaming."
She swiped through several screenshots.
"Now, mechanically speaking, there are plenty of games like it."
"So why did this one explode in popularity?"
She smiled knowingly.
"Because it's also an otome game."
Foca tilted his head.
"...Otome?"
"Dating simulator," Luca answered before Hyouka could.
Recognition immediately flashed across Foca's face.
"Right..."
That explained why the term sounded so familiar.
Years ago, purely out of curiosity, he'd tried playing a dating simulator himself.
Not because he was interested in romancing anyone.
No.
Typical Foca.
He stayed because the story was genuinely well-written.
The romance was merely a bonus.
Hyouka continued scrolling through gameplay footage.
Beautiful environments stretched across the screen.
Fluid combat.
Flashy special effects.
Massive open-world exploration.
Then came the dating mechanics.
The love interests laughed.
Flirted.
Held hands.
Went on little dates.
The interactions were surprisingly natural.
Almost lifelike.
After only a few minutes of watching...
Even Foca and Luca found themselves intrigued.
"I kinda wanna try the combat," Luca admitted.
"The exploration looks fun."
Foca nodded thoughtfully.
"I'm curious about the writing."
"I want to see how they built the narrative."
Hyouka smiled.
"Exactly."
"That's how they get you."
Then her expression darkened.
"Now..."
"The game is developed by UnFold..."
SLAM!
A thunderous crack echoed throughout the office.
Everyone jumped.
Tuesday had just slammed her empty rum glass onto the coffee table with enough force to make the coaster question its career choices.
"BURN TO THE GROUND, UNFOLD!!"
She practically roared.
The office windows probably filed a noise complaint.
Hyouka merely nodded.
"...Valid crash-out."
Tuesday sniffled dramatically.
"I stand by what I said."
Hyouka gently patted her shoulder before continuing.
"So..."
"The developers spent months teasing a brand-new love interest."
She tapped the screen again.
A tall man with red hair, wolf-like features, and enough charisma to destabilize entire fanbases appeared on the display.
"His name..."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"...Was Valkov."
The silence lasted exactly half a second.
Then...
A soul-crushing sob erupted from beside her.
"MYYYYY WOLF BOIIIIIIIIII!!"
Tuesday doubled over like someone had personally unplugged her will to live.
She was...
Without the slightest hint of irony...
Actively mourning a fictional, pixelated man.
****
"Now, just to preface this, I'm not against Chinese people or anything. But apparently, some Chinese fans, especially a portion of the female fanbase, took their dislike of the new character to an entirely different level." Hyouka said.
Tuesday immediately locked in.
"The bitches sent actual funeral wreaths to the company. They posed as guests just to leave cow shit inside the guest lockers, and even threatened to involve the fucking Chinese government!" Tuesday exclaimed.
"They did all that because they said Valkov looked too tanned, too muscular, too Western... and that he looked hella gay! Like, what the fuck is their problem?! The game has never cared about putting boundaries on gender expression! Why are they singling out my wolf boi?!" she cried.
Luca blinked.
"Wait... they did all of that... because they didn't like a character?"
"Yup." Hyouka nodded with a sigh. "And unfortunately... the Chinese government did end up getting involved."
Foca's brows slowly knitted together.
"...Oh no."
His expression darkened.
"It almost never ends well whenever the government gets involved. Especially the Chinese government."
"Exactly." Hyouka nodded again.
"Love in Deep Galaxies has always been a controversial game. Over the years it's tackled some fairly sensitive subjects, including storylines involving human experimentation."
She tapped through several articles on her tablet.
"Those themes were already part of the game long before Valkov was ever announced. But the anti-Valkov crowd gathered those older story elements and reported them to the authorities."
She sighed.
"Long story short... UnFold cancelled Valkov's release just one week before his scheduled debut."
Silence settled over the room.
"Many players believe it was the company's attempt to sacrifice Valkov in order to protect itself."
Hyouka looked genuinely disappointed.
"But with the government already involved, people are worried the damage is much bigger than one cancelled character. There are now real fears that Love in Deep Galaxies could end up shutting down entirely."
She lowered her tablet.
"Years of work."
"Artists."
"Writers."
"Animators."
"Voice actors."
"Programmers."
"Hundreds of people poured their hearts into creating Valkov."
"And who knows how much money was invested into developing him."
She shook her head.
"All of that... potentially thrown away because a group of fans simply refused to accept the character."
"...Wow."
That was all Foca could manage.
"Holy shit..."
Luca echoed quietly.
Beside them, Tuesday had already resumed quietly mourning.
"My wolf boi..."
Sniff.
"My beautiful wolf boi..."
Hyouka gently patted Tuesday's shoulder before continuing.
"And now, our very own resident gamer, Leo, has thrown himself onto the front lines."
She pulled up Leo's Z account.
@Leo_Scone
In all my years of gaming, and as a Day One player, I have never felt so betrayed.
@UnFold @LoveInDeepGalaxies
How could you do this to us?
I've dedicated countless hours, spent my own money, and supported this game because I genuinely loved it.
I can't even begin to describe the disappointment and the massive void you've left after building all that excitement for Valkov.
Valkov isn't "just a fictional character."
He is the culmination of countless people's blood, sweat, tears, talent, and passion.
Artists.
Writers.
Designers.
Developers.
Their work deserved better than being discarded because a group of femcels decided to throw a collective tantrum.
And now the entire game is in danger because the government has been dragged into this mess.
To everyone who helped make this happen "for the laughs"...
If this game actually shuts down, remember this:
The game you claimed to love died because of your own actions.
But know this as well.
I will fight to the bitter end to bring Valkov back.
#BringValkovBack #FreeValkov
Foca quietly read the post from beginning to end.
Then he looked up.
"...That's... actually a really well-written statement."
"Right?" Hyouka nodded.
Tuesday sniffled loudly.
"My wolf boi deserves justice..."
****
P.S.
This chapter was heavily inspired by the ongoing Love and Deep Space controversy. The entire situation has been all over my feed for the past week, and I honestly needed an outlet to process my thoughts.
I never became a full-time Love and Deep Space player. I only dipped my toes into the game for a little while. Even so, seeing everything surrounding Valko has genuinely saddened me. I even signed the petition in support of bringing him back.
More than anything, my heart goes out to the artists, writers, designers, programmers, voice actors, musicians, and everyone behind the scenes who poured their creativity, passion, and countless hours into bringing Valko to life. Whether you're on one side of the discussion or another, I think it's impossible not to recognize the incredible amount of work that goes into creating a character.
As a writer myself, that part hurts the most.
This chapter is simply my own way of expressing those feelings and showing support to everyone who has been hoping to see Valko return.
To the Valko girlies, gays, and everyone else rooting for him:
I see you, and I hope things work out for the best.
#BringBackValko
#FreeValko
#JusticeForValko