The work on Stardew Valley continued. Dorian was now deep in the most complex phase: connecting the villagers, the NPCs, with their stories and mechanics. He was breathing life into Abigail, mapping out her schedule to wander the woods and visit the saloon. He was linking Shane's dialogue triggers to the game's heart events, building the subtle, sad architecture of his narrative arc.
And as he worked, as he coded more and more, it just... clicked. Elegant solutions to complex problems unfurled in his mind before he even had to think about them. The code flowed from his fingertips, clean and efficient. He paused, his hands hovering over the holographic keyboard. He looked down at them, really looked at them, as if they belonged to someone else.
System, he thought.
The familiar, simple panel appeared. The Resonance count had been slowly ticking up from his family's nightly story sessions. It now read 12,700.
He focused on the panel, an experiment forming in his mind. "Talent," he whispered.
The panel remained inert.
"Experience."
The simple, rainbow-hued display did not so much as flicker.
"Skill."
Still nothing.
Dorian pulled out his notebook, the one dedicated to the System, and jotted down his findings. 'Standard status-screen commands (talent, exp, skill) yield no response.' He kept a running tab, a log of every little discovery, every new idea.
He leaned back in his chair, frustrated. "Hmmm, what else could this kind of power provide?" he muttered to himself. "Come on... think... if I were writing a fiction in my old life, and it had a System like this, with Resonance and Gacha... what else would it do?"
He slumped further back in his chair and exhaled, giving up for the moment. "Useless," he groaned, stretching his arms above his head. "Why did I have to exchange my memories for a wish? Isn't memories what makes me me to begin with?"
He let his arms fall and looked back at the screen. The alpha version of his game, nearly playable now, was glowing back at him. A small, proud smile touched his lips.
Just then, his wristband buzzed with a sharp, official chime. A notification was displayed in stark, blocky letters: ACCORD EDUCATIONAL FUND DEPOSIT: FINAL DISBURSEMENT.
The "severance package" had finally arrived. Dorian let out a dry chuckle.
"I thought they forgot to give it to me."
Dorian stared at the confirmation of the three-month stipend, the numbers glowing on his wristband. He weighed his decision, a heavy scale in his mind. He could put it all towards the family fund. It would be enough for eight months of food blocks, a long, comfortable stretch of security they had not had in years. Or, he could invest. He could upgrade his desk, maybe get a real instrument, or buy the filming equipment he needed to shoot a proper music video for his first song.
On one hand, there was the immediate, tangible good. On the other, the potential for a much greater, more permanent escape. He had to invest in himself now, so he could provide for them properly later. The decision was made. He would buy the cam sphere. For now, he went back to sleep.
The next day, Dorian woke with a renewed sense of purpose. He took a bath, helped his siblings get ready, and walked them to their respective schools. After waving goodbye, he turned and walked back to the starliner station. This time, his destination was the middle level.
He arrived in a chaotic, vibrant sea of humanity. The middle level was the commercial heart of Nexus Prime, and it was always full of people. Even here, there were tiers. The upper platforms were clean, serving the butlers, drivers, and personal assistants of the true upper-level elite. Dorian descended, heading for the low tier.
Here, the market was a jumbled, glorious mess. The air was thick with the smell of sizzling synth-meats from food stalls, the ozone crackle of faulty holo-ads, and the metallic tang of unshielded power conduits that snaked overhead like vines. A dozen different languages, from Accord basic to some outer rims one, blended into a constant, energetic hum. Dorian navigated the crowded alleyways with a practiced ease, sidestepping a lumbering cargo droid and politely declining a street vendor's offer of a "genuine" pre-Accord artifact. This was not his first time here.
He arrived at a cluttered storefront tucked into a corner, its sign flickering weakly: "ULA'S HARDWARE."
"Jakor! My friend!" Dorian greeted the figure behind the counter excitedly.
Jakor was a human-looking man, tall and lanky, until he moved. His arms and legs bent at three distinct joints, a subtle but unmistakable mark of his alien heritage. He looked up from a datapad, his expression unimpressed. "Oh, I am your friend again now, am I?"
Dorian came around the counter and gave him a quick, one-armed side hug. "Eyy, do not say that. We have always been friends."
"Pay the last batch then," Jakor said, his voice flat.
"Okay, okay," Dorian replied, not missing a beat. He tapped his wristband, authorized the transfer, and paid off his outstanding debt for the hardware he had bought for his desk. "See? I always pay."
"Now run along," Jakor said, already turning back to his work. "There are still a lot of real customers."
"Hey, hey, wait," Dorian said, leaning on the counter. "I came here to buy, too."
Jakor's face went completely flat with annoyance. "And this thing you want," he said slowly, "is it the thing you will add to the new unpaid batch?"
Dorian just smiled, a charming, unapologetic grin.
Jakor let out a long, theatrical sigh. "Okay. Tell me what you need."
Dorian listed off the parts he needed to upgrade his main gaming and tech desk, a series of high-end processors and custom interface chips.
"What the..." Jakor said, looking up from his datapad. "Are you mad? These are new-type parts. Where am I supposed to get them?"
"Ula's always finds a way, right?" Dorian said with unshakeable confidence.
Jakor sighed again, harder this time. "Okay. Fine."
"Oh," Dorian added, as if he had almost forgotten. "And give me that cam sphere, can you? I am ordering a big bulk this time."
Jakor stared at him for a long moment. "You really are... a piece... of... okay, take it." He reached under the counter and placed the small, spherical drone on the counter.
Dorian beamed, grabbing the cam sphere. He turned and left the store, shouting over his shoulder as he went, "Love you, Jakor! Send my regards to Ula, will you?"
Jakor leaned over the counter and shouted back, "Careful not to die, Dorian! You still need to pay me!"
…
A few more days passed in a blur of focused work. Dorian was deep in the code for Stardew Valley when his wristband chimed, a notification he had been waiting for. COMMONS LAW OFFICE: COPYRIGHT APPLICATION APPROVED - MUSICAL COMPOSITION.
"Yeaaayyy! Let's go!" Dorian shouted to the empty room, pumping a fist in the air.
He immediately swiveled his chair to his main monitor and opened Echoflow, the galaxy's primary music streaming platform. He created a new artist account, his fingers flying across the keyboard. For the artist name, he typed in Percival. He filled out the rest of the required information, then uploaded the release-ready master track for "Your Song." He took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled as he clicked the final RELEASE button. It was done. It was out there.
Now for the marketing. He grabbed his new cam sphere and placed it on a shelf, angling it perfectly to capture him playing at the producer's desk while keeping his face obscured in shadow. He hit record.
A nervous energy immediately took over. "Uhh, hello guys," he said, his voice suddenly feeling alien and awkward. "Percival here. Uuhh, well, I just made a song, and I would like to share it with you all." He cracked his knuckles loudly. "Hope you enjoy." He then turned and began to play the now-familiar melody of "Your Song."
After the final note faded, he turned back to the camera, the cringe already starting to creep in. "So, what do you think? Anyway, if you are interested, you can go to Echoflow to hear the full song. Thanks for watching." He quickly reached out and pressed the stop record button.
The moment the recording light went off, he was hit by a tidal wave of self-cringe. He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Aaaagghhhh! Why? Why did I say that? 'What do you think?' Who am I?" He looked at the raw footage. "Should I re-record?"
He glanced at the time. It was almost when Lyra and Marcus were due home. He did not have time. And besides, the full track was already live on Echoflow anyway. He steeled himself, his jaw tightening. He quickly opened the editing software, did a simple color balance to make the visuals look a little more professional. At the very least, it should be passable.
He navigated to his Stellarcast channel, dragged the file into the upload window, and clicked PUBLISH. A wave of pure, unadulterated cringe washed over him, and he let out a low groan.
Just then, the front door hissed open. "We're home!" Lyra's voice called out.
Overwhelmed, Dorian scrambled out of his chair, ran out of his room, and swept both Lyra and Marcus into a desperate, tight hug.
Lyra, caught completely off guard, looked at him with worry. "What happened?" she asked, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
Dorian held them tighter. "I'm cringe," he mumbled.
Lyra and Marcus just looked at each other over Dorian's shoulders and exchanged a confused, silent shrug.
…
The Brimen family mansion on the private resort planet of Oss VI was a world of hushed silence and gleaming marble floors. Mala and Maree Brimen, twin sisters and students at the prestigious Astra Nova University, stepped out of their private transport, their academy uniforms looking stark and out of place in the opulent entrance hall.
A female butler, her posture perfect, glided forward to greet them. "Welcome home, Young Misses."
Mala let out a dramatic sigh, dropping her bag onto a nearby velvet couch. "Did you note down anything from today's theoretical lecture?"
"I was asleep," Maree replied with a yawn.
"Arrgghh," Mala groaned. "We are Solars. Why are we still stuck in theoretical classes?" Maree just nodded in sleepy agreement.
"Young Misses," the butler, Jenny, inquired smoothly. "Would you prefer a bath in milk or in salted water this evening?"
"Milk," Maree said instantly.
"Salted," Mala replied.
"Ready mine first," Maree ordered, already heading down the hall.
Mala rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sure. You can do that, Jen."
Jenny the butler bowed and went to prepare Maree's bath first. Mala walked into her own cavernous bedroom and flopped down onto the luxurious bed, the silken covers cool against her skin. Bored, she grabbed her heliopad and began to idly navigate through Stellarcast, her thumb flicking through an endless stream of content.
She scrolled past AI-generated streams, vapid vlogs from upper-tier socialites, and the usual, overly produced Solar combat montages. It was all so flashy, so loud, and so profoundly boring.
Then, a low-budget looking video caught her eye. In the midst of the glittering, professionally designed thumbnails, this one was an anomaly. It was just a static, slightly dim camera angle looking at a boy's silhouette as he played a holo-piano, his face completely hidden in shadow. It was simple. It was real. She clicked on it.
[Your Song - Percival]
The video started with an awkward, fumbling introduction. Mala chuckled. "A cute boy," she mused. "I wonder what he looks like."
He started to play. She was expecting another over-engineered, synth-heavy song, the kind that had been trending in the Accord for the last decade, all aggressive beats and no heart.
Instead, a simple, clean piano melody began. Then, he started to sing. His voice was soft, unpolished, and achingly sincere.
"It's a little bit funny... This feelin' inside... I'm not one of those who can easily hide..."
Mala stopped scrolling. She propped herself up on her elbows, her attention captured. There was no auto-tune, no complex vocal layering. It was just a boy and a piano. In a world built on artifice and carefully constructed images, the raw honesty of it was jarring.
"I don't have much money, but boy, if I did... I'd buy a big house where we both could live."
The line hit her with a strange, unexpected force. She was lying in a "big house," a mansion so large she had not even seen some of its rooms. But the way he sang it, it was not about the size or the money. It was a simple, heartfelt promise. A dream. For the first time, she heard the concept of a home not as a statement of wealth, but as a shelter for two people. Her own world of casual luxury suddenly felt very cold, and very, very empty.
⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙
🎮: Stardwey Valley: █████▒▒▒▒▒ 51%
🎬: -
♬: - Your Name – Elton John (ch.9)
**A/N**
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~🧣KujoW
**A/N**