The elevator hummed quietly as it climbed upward. Giri stood alone in the car—everyone had probably arrived before him, settling into their morning routines while he'd been scrambling to get dressed.
He caught his reflection in the polished metal doors. Early thirties, black hair pulled into a small ponytail, square jaw behind brownline glasses. A bit of scruff from skipping his morning shave, but otherwise the same as always.
Blue jacket, brown pants, trusty satchel. One of several identical sets hanging in his closet.
There was a running joke he'd tell anyone who asked about his wardrobe: "My fashion sense is about as diverse as an anime character. Rarely change."
The truth was, he'd stopped caring how other people looked at him.
The elevator chimed as it reached the eighth floor. Game Evolution.
Some people he knew nodded or gave him quick greetings as he walked by.
It wasn't just him who'd been reeled in for today. He could feel it in the air, catch fragments of hushed conversations. Others had gotten the same urgent call.
Giri stopped at a desk with a lineup of figurines beneath the monitor—from elegant maid to stern shrine maiden. A gaming thermos sat at the corner.
His own desk.
Kenji's head popped up from behind a monitor as Giri approached. "Hey, you made it. Bad news though—server went down around 2 AM."
Giri dropped his satchel beside his chair. "Any idea what caused it?"
"Memory allocation, most likely." Kenji shrugged. "IT got it back online, but I haven't had a chance to dig through the crash logs yet."
Giri turned toward the next desk, where Hane was scrolling through her inbox. "Think you could check those logs later? After whatever this meeting is about."
She glanced up from her screen. "Sure, once I get through this email backlog."
"You know what we need?" Kenji stretched back in his chair. "Some kind of AI that handles all this tedious debugging for us."
Hane's fingers paused over her keyboard. "Right. First they'd make us build it, then it would take our jobs."
Giri and Kenji's eyes met, both fighting back grins at her deadpan delivery. But the humor faded quickly—her prediction was dangerously plausible.
A notification window popped up on Giri's monitor with a soft chime. Hane's screen lit up with the same alert, and Kenji's sudden groan confirmed he'd gotten it too.
Meeting invitation. The usual corporate ritual.
Giri glanced around the office as chairs started squeaking and people began standing. Not just his team—he spotted members from QA, the art department, even a couple of game designers closing their laptops.
"Looks like it's showtime," Kenji muttered, pushing back from his desk.
They filed into the conference room with the usual suspects from their team.
The glass door clicked shut, muffling the keyboard noise from outside. The room buzzed with quiet conversations as people settled into their chairs.
One of the QA testers looked up from his tablet. "Hey, any word on when we're getting that VR alpha build for testing?"
"First build should be ready next week," Giri replied, settling into his chair.
"Please stay alive until then, Giri-san," one of the game designers said with a grin. "We're all counting on you."
A few chuckles rippled around the table before the door opened again and Yuki stepped inside. The room fell silent.
"Good morning, everyone." Yuki's practiced smile swept across the room. "I'm sure you all have questions about why we called this meeting."
Two men in crisp black suits followed him in, both carrying briefcases. Yuki gestured toward them as they took positions at the table.
"I'd like you to meet Mr. Ito and Mr. Kusawa from SolarTech's Technology Division. They've come all the way from Kaito to present some exciting developments."
The two looked like corporate veterans—silver hair perfectly combed, faces etched with years of boardroom battles. Not twins, but molded by the same corporate machine.
Ito opened his briefcase and carefully lifted out an advanced VR headset, its sleek design unlike anything Giri had seen before.
The device made its way around the table, each person examining it before passing it along. When it reached one of the artists, she turned it over in her hands.
"This looks more like a helmet than a headset."
"The additional hardware is necessary," Ito replied matter-of-factly. "Our engineers have developed a non-invasive method to capture neural signals. But unlike traditional headsets, this operates bidirectionally."
He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "However, the headset alone has limited capabilities. Which brings us to the truly revolutionary component that Mr. Kusawa will demonstrate."
All eyes turned to Kusawa, who stepped forward with a slight bow.
Kusawa clicked a remote, and the projector hummed to life. The image that appeared on the screen showed a sleek, contoured chair surrounded by cables and mechanical arms.
"Is that... a dentist chair?" someone muttered from the back of the room.
Kusawa's expression remained perfectly serious. "The Sensory Immersion Pod. This device interfaces with the headset to provide full sensory engagement—not just sight and sound, but touch, temperature, even limited taste and scent feedback."
A voice from across the table spoke up. "Has anyone actually tested this thing before?"
Kusawa paused, his fingers drumming once against his briefcase. "Our engineering team has conducted extensive onsite testing. Now it falls to you—to bring these capabilities to their fullest potential."
Giri leaned forward in his chair, his mind already racing through the technical implications. "Do we have some kind of sensory library to work with, or are we starting from scratch?"
Kusawa's attention shifted to him with obvious interest. "You must be Giri. Excellent technical question." He adjusted his tie. "We have basic frameworks for sound, touch, and temperature. Those are relatively straightforward. However, taste and scent will require more... dedicated programming."
Across the table, Kenji caught Giri's eye and mouthed the words "smell programming" with a mix of awe and horror.
Yuki stepped forward, reclaiming control of the room. "Actually, regarding that workload concern—discussions are already in motion."
He clasped his hands behind his back, that familiar corporate smile returning. "We'll be introducing a new division: VRA—Virtual Reality Assets. This specialized team will handle all VR-related development, which should significantly lighten the workload for everyone here."
Giri felt something cold settle in his stomach. A new team. For his project.
Yuki spread his arms wide, encompassing the room. "That's it, everyone. We're stepping into the future of gaming—and possibly much more beyond that."
He straightened his jacket. "You can start using these headsets for development immediately. The SIP will require a bit more time for deployment."
"Detailed documentation will be sent to your emails."
Ito stepped forward with a brief nod. "Please direct any technical questions through those channels."
Mr. Ito and Mr. Kusawa left first. The rest of the team began filing out, conversations resuming as they headed for the door.
"Who's going to buy one of those chairs for their house just for gaming?" someone wondered aloud.
"The same people who build entire rooms just for gaming, obviously," came the reply.
"Maybe there'll be VR cafes or something. Just bring your own headset."
"Giri." Yuki's voice cut through the departing chatter. "Could you stay for a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."
Kenji shot him a questioning look as he passed, but Giri could only shrug. The room emptied until it was just the two of them.
Uncomfortable silence stretched between them as the conference room door clicked shut.
Standing before him was Project Manager Yuki—perfect smile, impeccable posture, every detail of his appearance carefully managed. But behind that polished exterior, Giri had learned to recognize something else entirely. This was the man who'd been systematically stripping away his vision of what he truly wanted to create.
"So what do you—"
"There's been some discussion from the higher-ups." Yuki cut straight to the matter, his hands clasped behind his back. "You know that tactical shooter the New York team is developing?"
Giri nodded. He knew exactly which project Yuki meant.
"Headquarters wants to make them the frontier for this new technology." Yuki's smile never wavered, but something cold flickered in his eyes. "That's why I've been fighting to get the VR division assigned to our studio instead."
He leaned forward slightly. "But it won't be guaranteed if we have nothing to show them. Not before the other team delivers their prototype."
"So it's a race now, Giri."
"Which is why..." Yuki paused, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a sleek black keycard. "I'm going to give you an opportunity."
He held the card between two fingers, letting it catch the conference room's fluorescent light. "If we can pull this off, not only will your game become the main topic of conversation worldwide, but your name will be written alongside its success."
Yuki's eyes fixed on Giri's face, studying his reaction. "Do you know what that represents, Giri?"
"More seats around the table. Expansion opportunities. Promotions." His smile widened slightly. "My position could potentially become vacant, and I think I might know someone who'd be perfect for it."
Yuki's position. That would give Giri complete creative control over the project again. True, he lacked the corporate experience to handle all the business aspects, but as long as he could regain control of his game...
"What is this opportunity?" Giri asked, eyeing the keycard.
"Results. I need you to explore the SIP's full potential, to discover what it's truly capable of." Yuki's voice dropped lower. "But this needs to stay between us."
"Why the secrecy?"
"We need to demonstrate something concrete before the other team does. This cannot become common knowledge among the employees." Yuki stepped closer. "Like I said, it's a race. And races are won by those who move fastest, not those who follow protocol."
He extended the keycard toward Giri. "The prototype is here, in the building. Basement level two, through the equipment elevator. Only a few people have access, and now you're one of them."
Giri took the keycard, its surface smooth and cool against his fingers. The weight of possibility—and risk—settled in his palm.
As he reached for the door handle, Yuki's voice followed him one final time.
"Remember, Giri—this is top secret. No one can know about this. Not even your team."
Giri returned to his desk, the black keycard weighing heavy in his pocket. The usual hum of keyboards and muted conversations filled the office space.
"So what was that about?" Kenji asked, spinning his chair around. "Secret corporate handshake?"
"Just the usual," Giri said, settling into his chair. "Yuki reminding me how important deadlines are."
"Let me guess—he wants to add loot boxes to the magic system somehow," someone called out from across the desk.
A few chuckles rippled through the team before Hane's voice cut through the noise.
"Found the crash, by the way." She didn't look up from her screen. "Someone's custom spell completely broke the server."
Giri walked over behind her chair, leaning down to examine the error logs scrolling across her monitor. "What spell exactly?"
"The interaction between three different elemental components caused a processing loop. Server couldn't handle the recursive calls."
Giri straightened up with a grin. "Huh, that's pretty creative, I have to say. Props to them."
"Not the first time though," Hane replied, scrolling through similar errors from previous weeks. "We had safeguards for this, but repetitive casting over time accumulated residual data until the cleanup process couldn't keep up."
Giri nodded. "Memory buffer overflow from spam casting."
He glanced at the error logs. "The component system basically lets players program their own spells. They'll always come up with something we never thought of."
"But that's why our game stands out among others," Kenji said, leaning back in his chair. "All thanks to this person here."
"Though debugging and coming up with test cases is a nightmare thanks to this same person," Hane replied without missing a beat.
"To be fair," Giri said, running a hand through his ponytail, "it started with only four elements. It's grown over time due to player demand, so I decided to stop at seven."
"Yeah..." Hane finally looked up from her screen. "Kenji might not know since he's new, but the Chaos element update drained my lifespan by half."
Kenji's eyes widened with excitement. "Imagine what players could do with VR though."
"This Awakened update is getting bigger by the day," Hane said, shaking her head. "First AI, now VR. This is getting a little ambitious even for SolarTech."
"But if we can make this a reality, imagine what we could achieve," Giri said, his voice carrying that familiar spark of possibility.
"–Feeling the wind on your face while smelling the flowers in elven forests..." Kenji's voice trailed off as his imagination ran wild. "Imagine the elf details! The elf lore! The elf... everything!"
Giri watched Kenji's enthusiasm, noting how many times the word 'elf' appeared in his rambling. He could only imagine what possibilities were running through Kenji's mind—and knowing Kenji's particular fascination with elven characters, those possibilities probably weren't all strictly game-related.
"What about pain reception?" Kenji suddenly turned serious.
"What were you even thinking?" Hane looked at him with concern.
"What? I mean, players will get attacked and such. Do we give them full sensory feedback? Even dizziness from spell effects like poison or crowd control?"
"That sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen if something goes wrong," someone called out from behind their monitor.
"I'll need to work closely with the game designers on that," Giri said. "For now, the main focus is still the AI integration."
Kenji's eyes lit up again. "Can't wait for that. Picture this—you meet this random elf NPC, recruit them, train them to be stronger. And not just one—imagine a whole party of elves. And they'll remember everything!"
He continued, oblivious to Hane's eye roll. "Every conversation, every shared battle, every magical... lesson."
"Okay, we lost him," Hane said flatly.
Giri cleared his throat, pulling himself back to reality. "Alright everyone, back to work. These features won't code themselves."
A collective sigh rippled through the office as the weight of their tasks settled back in. Monitors flickered to life, keyboards clicked, and the familiar rhythm of development resumed.
Kenji wheeled back to his desk, but his fingers paused over the keyboard. "Just imagine... procedurally generated elf hairstyles." His voice carried that dreamy quality again.
Giri shook his head, though he couldn't suppress his own smile. The same excitement bubbled in his chest—one day, players would appreciate the attention to detail in those elven features, and Kenji's dedication would pay off.
"What about your mother's visit?" Hane asked, glancing up from her screen.
"Yeah, still in place. I'll take half the day off as planned."
He looked around the office, pride swelling in his chest. This was how it should be—his team supporting each other, pushing boundaries, building something meaningful together.
Though the secret opportunity Yuki had presented was drawing him closer to corporate games by the day. He had to try his best, not only for himself but for everyone here who depended on him.