Magic Mirror was shaping up to be a very distinctive little game.
Its foundation was a fusion of match-3 puzzle mechanics and RPG elements, layered with galgame-style branching storylines. That combination alone gave it depth and replayability far beyond what one might expect at first glance.
The match-3 system was essentially a refinement of the familiar tile-matching genre—games like Link Link—which were already popular in this parallel world. That popularity reassured Chen Xu. He wasn't worried about whether players would accept the gameplay.
But of course, gameplay wasn't the only selling point.
The heart of Magic Mirror lay in its storytelling and CG illustrations.
In that regard, Chen Xu had confidence. The inherited memories told him that Ruan Ningxue was up to the task—and so was he. Between them, they had the narrative and artistic talent to bring the game to life.
He quickly put together a simple design document outlining the structure: a match-3 system with upgrade routes tied to the narrative paths players chose. Once that was laid out, he dove into writing the stories.
The first one featured a dark elf thief who broke into a corrupt lord's treasury to redistribute the wealth to the poor. But the lord turned out to be a demon in disguise, and she was captured. From there, the story diverged: players could pursue a route of genuine romance—or something far more twisted.
The second story followed a female general who traveled from ancient times into the modern world. Weakened and disoriented, she met a reclusive shut-in. Again, two endings: one pure and romantic, the other darker and tragic. In the latter version, the man initially mistreated her. But after being thrown back into the past together, their bond grew during a time of war. When given the chance to escape back to modern life, he chose instead to stay and die by her side on the battlefield.
Chen Xu also had ideas involving a reincarnated zombie girl and a dragon knight. For now, though, he focused on just four routes. He had to be realistic—money was tight.
Even a basic match-3 system, voice acting, CG artwork, and background music licensing came at a cost.
His savings of just over ten thousand yuan wouldn't cut it. He'd need to rely on payment apps, small personal loans, and his credit card. Risky, but manageable.
The next morning, inside his apartment, Ruan Ningxue arrived carrying her drawing tablet and laptop. She sat beside him, studying the brief and storyboard he'd thrown together overnight.
"I didn't expect this kind of game from you," she muttered, a look of surprise spreading across her face.
Then her eyes lit up. "I knew it! You were never meant to be just a comic artist or a game dev. Come make doujin with me instead!"
"With your stories and my art, we'd blow up in no time. Start with fanbooks, gather a following, and work our way to becoming famous artists. That's how the best start!"
She was clearly excited. As she flipped through his story concepts, her admiration only grew.
"Pure love? Cuckoldry? Reincarnation? You've got range!"
Chen Xu's mouth twitched. "Thanks for the compliment… but I'll stick to games."
He explained the difference: this wasn't going to be formatted like a comic. The illustrations would be presented like CG stills from a visual novel. Fully colored, highly detailed. No panel sequences. The story would unfold mainly through dialogue.
"I get it," she said, nodding. "So each image needs to really sell the appeal of the character—like the cover of a fanbook. Don't worry. That's my specialty."
"Exactly," Chen Xu said with a nod. "If you're ready, let's start today."
Ruan Ningxue grinned, gave a thumbs-up, and opened her software. They got to work.
To Chen Xu's surprise, development was going more smoothly than expected. Most of the less important assets were handed off to outsourced artists, allowing him and Ningxue to focus on the core illustrations.
The initial roster of heroines included the dark elf thief, the dragon knight girl, the displaced female general, and the zombie girl. Each had their own route, each with branching paths and emotional impact.
Chen Xu briefly considered composing the music himself, but the workload was too much. Licensing tracks was easier—and affordable enough. The real expense was voice acting.
For this kind of story-driven, character-focused game, voice acting was crucial. Chen Xu wasn't aiming for full voiceover—that would blow the budget. Instead, only key scenes and signature lines would be voiced. That alone would eat up a huge portion of the funds.
And the male leads?
He had no intention of giving them voices.
Later that afternoon, as he reviewed one of Ningxue's more provocative illustrations, he couldn't hide his surprise. She was good—better than he expected.
Back in his previous life, Chen Xu hadn't been a nobody in the industry. He'd attended major expos, brushed shoulders with veteran developers, and had a decent grasp of game art direction. He'd admired people like Yang Qi, who worked on God of War, Shigenori Soejima of the Persona series, and Tetsuya Nomura, the mastermind behind Tifa's design in Final Fantasy VII.
He'd studied their work. He understood design.
And yet, Ningxue's art still impressed him.
She had real talent.
Of course, there were gaps—mostly in adjusting to the differences between comic art and game illustrations. Even galgame CGs had their own visual language. But she was learning fast.
"I see what you mean," she said after some feedback. "It's not like drawing manga panels at all."
Chen Xu nodded. "Exactly. Even in a visual novel, every image needs to serve the pacing of the dialogue."
They continued chatting about the visual approach and polishing the art direction.
At this point, the game was nearly complete.
All that remained was the voice acting.
And in a game like Magic Mirror, where beautiful girls carried the emotional weight of the story, voices would make all the difference.
Chen Xu had no intention of cutting corners on that.
Even if it meant taking on a bit more debt