Dorian sat back in the pilot's seat of the Millennium Falcon, the endless, swirling blue-white of hyperspace stretching out before them. He finished setting the coordinates for the automatic traverser, the ship now humming along on its own.
"You know," he mused, mostly to himself, "I could probably modify the nav-computer, plant Leo's core matrix directly into the ship's systems. It would be way more efficient than just docking."
Ratik, in the co-pilot's seat, looked over from her datapad. "Not 'docking,' but 'planting'?" she clarified, instantly grasping the technical distinction. A planted Compadre was a permanent, deep-system integration, a massive overhaul of the ship's core programming.
"Yeah," Dorian said. "So it would have its own predictive algorithm for flight paths, fuel consumption, everything..."
Ratik let out a small, weary sigh. "Let me guess. I will be the one dealing with that budget."
Dorian just laughed awkwardly. "Hehe."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the low thrum of the Falcon's refitted engines. The ship, his own ship, felt more like home now.
"Ratik," Dorian asked, his voice quiet, "how can I have... that much money? Seriously."
"I thought you said you wanted me to handle the finance," she replied, not looking up from her datapad.
"I'm just curious," he pressed. "I read your monthly report… well, I skimmed it, but the earnings I'm getting... it seems like a lot. An impossible amount."
Ratik's lips curved into a small, sharp smile. "It wasn't supposed to be," she said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Ratik finally put her datapad down and turned to face him, her expression shifting into that of a high-finance professional. "It means," she began, "that if 'Percival' the individual artist, a resident of Nexus Prime, earned fifty million credits from those two songs, the Accord Central Tax Authority would have immediately identified you as a high-yield asset. They would have hit you with the 'Talent Leach' tax, the Sector Tithe, and the Imperial Loyalty Contribution. By the time they were done, you would have been left with, perhaps, fifteen million. And you would be on every BSO watchlist from here to the Outer Rim."
Dorian's blood ran cold.
"So," Ratik continued, her voice cool and clinical, "'Percival' the individual didn't earn anything. On paper, you are actually quite poor, Dorian. You're just a kid who got a lucky, one-time contract."
"But... then how?"
"The night after you told me about your game studio, while you were busy writing. I registered 'Round Table Studios' as a corporate entity. It is not domiciled on Sela, or Nexus, or any Accord core world. It is officially registered on a small, independent trade moon in the Xylos sector. They have a 0% corporate tax treaty with the Accord, a loophole so old the Accord just finds it easier to ignore it than to close it."
"So..." Dorian said, his mind slowly piecing it together.
"So, you, Dorian Kepler, then sold all intellectual property, the master recordings, the publishing rights, Stardew Valley, 'Skyfall,' 'No Time to Die,' to this new corporation for a one-time, non-taxable fee of 1,000 credits."
"I... I did?"
"You did," Ratik confirmed. "I have your digital signature on the contract. Now, all the royalties, all the tens of millions in revenue, flow directly to 'Round Table Studios,' where it sits, untouched, untaxed, and, most importantly, invisible to the Accord. This ship? You did not buy it. The corporation bought it. It is a 'mobile production studio' and 'corporate transport.' The new house on Friton? Corporate housing for its primary employee. The fuel converter? A capital expenditure for our new headquarters. You will be paying yourself a very modest 'consulting fee' of 50,000 credits a year, which you will pay your taxes on, like a good, compliant citizen. The rest... the real money... stays with the company, safe from their hands."
Dorian was silent for a long time, the swirling blue of hyperspace reflecting in his eyes. He felt... scummy. "It doesn't feel right," he finally said.
"What doesn't?" Ratik asked, her tone unreadable.
"Hogging all that money. Lying. It's... a rich person's trick."
"Dorian," Ratik said, her voice softening just a fraction, "the Accord will leach you dry if I do not do this. They see talent not as something to be nurtured, but as a resource to be squeezed until it is empty. This isn't a 'tactic'; it's a shield. Besides," she added, "every Guild Master, every Vizier, and every wealthy being you saw at that gala uses the exact same methods. Being ahead of the curve doesn't make you a villain. It just makes you smart enough to not be a victim."
"I guess," Dorian said, but the feeling still did not sit right with him.
Dorian shifted, the pilot's seat feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the weight of Ratik's financial revelations. He tried to steer the conversation away from his own scummy, legal loopholes.
"So," he began, looking out at the swirling blue vortex of hyperspace. "About Round Table Studios. Should we... hire people? Or can I just keep working solo?"
Ratik's expression shifted back to that of a professional manager. "That depends on what you are trying to achieve," she said. "In a sense, you can remain a solo developer. But..." she paused, her gaze analytical, "...can you?"
Dorian thought about the months of grueling, lonely work it had taken to build Stardew Valley. He looked down at his own hands.
Ratik continued, her tone dismissive of the entire industry. "The gaming industry, Dorian, has never yielded much to begin with. The Accord entertainment sector barely respects it. The fact that Stardew Valley sold billions of copies," she said, the number still sounding absurd to her, "is a shock to me. A statistical anomaly. A fluke."
"It's not a fluke," Dorian said, a little defensively.
"To the industry, it is," she countered. "Most of the entertainment sector sees gaming as a third-rate hobby, or, at best, a glorified recruitment outlet for Solar-wannabes to play out their military fantasies. The standard business model is simple: use a template layout, take a story from an Accord 'glorious historical event' like the Battle of Primo VIII, slap a price on it, and publish. It is a minefield of low-effort trash and propaganda, Dorian."
"Then how do you explain Stardew?" he pressed.
Ratik was taken aback. To be honest, she had found herself playing it on her Heliopad when she came home from work on Sela. The simple, peaceful rhythm was... compelling. "Stardew Valley," she said, choosing her words carefully, "is a lightning strike. A complete outlier. And I heard you based the game on a popular Stellarcast farmer, didn't you? Can you really catch lightning in a bottle twice?"
"No," Dorian said, his voice quiet but firm. He turned to look at her, his eyes serious. "It is not luck. A game is not just a release-and-propaganda piece. It... it has a heart. And a soul."
Ratik studied him for a long, silent moment. She saw the absolute, unshakeable conviction in his eyes. This was not a business venture for him. It was a belief. She, who had built her entire career on cynical, practical realities, found herself... convinced.
"I believe you," she said simply. "So. What kind of people do you need?"
Dorian smiled.
…
[Planet: Friton - Kepler Residence]
Marcus and John were in the backyard, which was so big and lavish with its rolling green hills and patches of cultivated Stardew's flora that it would have been called a small park in Dorian's past life. They were collecting the crystal-like feathers shed by the flock of Zilka Hen.
Marcus looked up at the sky, his eyes spotting the familiar, saucer-shaped silhouette descending from the clouds. "Dad!" he shouted, pointing. "There is a ship landing in our yard!"
The Millennium Falcon descended, its engines a low, powerful thrum, and landed on the wide pad a few dozen yards away, dwarfing Ratik's sleek, black personal Corvette that was already parked there.
John stood, wiping his hands on his trousers, and walked towards the ship as the boarding ramp lowered.
Dorian emerged, blinking in the bright, natural sunlight.
"Brother!" Marcus shouted, dropping his basket and sprinting across the field, launching himself at Dorian.
"Marcus!" Dorian laughed, catching him and swinging him around. "Come on, you have to see the cockpit!" He excitedly began to lead his little brother up the ramp.
Ratik followed them out, her expression as professional as always. John stopped a few feet away from her, his gaze shifting from his two sons, who were already disappearing excitedly into the ship, to the calm, suited woman who had made all of this possible.
"Ratik," John said, his voice quiet but firm. "Walk with me."
Ratik looked back at Dorian, then back to the face of the Kepler patriarch. She nodded once, then followed him as he began to walk towards the pasture, away from the ship.
…
They walked in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound the soft rustle of the tall, green grass and the distant, the soft wind and the gentle maa of the Muurbeasts. John, his hands in his pockets, finally stopped and looked out over the vast, open pasture. This was the life John had always dreamed of having back in the sunless, smog-choked corridors of Nexus Prime.
"How is he... on your side?" John asked, his voice quiet.
"He's focused, Patriarch," Ratik replied, her tone respectful. "He is always working."
John walked over to one of the large, wooly Muurbeasts and began to pat its thick, soft wool. The creature leaned into his touch. "Do you still see the fire behind his eyes?" he asked, his gaze distant.
"Always," Ratik said simply, her own gaze fixed on the man.
John took a deep breath of the clean, fresh air. "I'm content with this," he said, gesturing to the rolling green hills of their new home. "I was content even back in Nexus, if I'm honest. I... I know my limits." He looked down at his own hands, calloused and scarred from decades spent in the deep mines. "What does that contract mean to you, Ratik?"
Ratik was taken aback by the sudden, personal question. "It is a responsibility, Patriarch."
John chuckled, a dry, sad sound. "Patriarch, huh?" The word felt foreign, distant, as if it belonged to someone else, someone important. It did not feel right for him. He turned back to the Muurbeast. "Unlike me, Dorian is a smart kid. Smart enough to break through any limit he finds. But me, I always knew my limit."
He smiled, and the lines around his eyes crinkled. "But I was foolish," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I spent all my life in those mines. I... I'm just now realizing, I think I was just running away. Running away from my responsibility. I made myself feel good for having a job, for providing, but I wasn't really... there." He paused, his throat tight. "I realize now how precious they are. My boy, my girl. They... they are my true happiness."
He finally turned and looked Ratik straight in the eye, all pretense gone, his gaze raw and pleading. "So, let me ask you this. Is he truly happy?"
Ratik's eyes widened, her professional composure momentarily shaken by his genuine, fatherly anguish.
"He is always working," John continued, his voice trembling slightly. "He is teaching Lyra and Marcus, he is tending to the garden and the flocks... but even when he is 'relaxing,' he seems to be looking beyond the skies. So tell me... is there a burden he has, Ratik? Something he is not telling me?"
Ratik saw the genuine, aching concern in his eyes. Her professional mask softened into a rare, genuine smile.
"He holds you in the highest regard, John," she said softly, dropping the formal title for the first time. "And... you may not believe me, but I don't work for Dorian just because of the contract. Even if that contract were to be annulled tomorrow, I would follow his brilliance. He has a greatness in him... a purpose he is chasing."
She smiled and looked over at the Millennium Falcon, gleaming in the afternoon sun. "I guess that is your answer, Patriarch," she said, her voice gentle. "A genius is often hardly understood. Let alone... a parent to one."
Just as the heavy, emotional silence settled over them, a new, bright sound cut through the air. A joyous shout from the ship.
"Ratik! Dad! I am taking Marcus for a quick spin!"
John was snapped out of his reverie, his fatherly instincts kicking in instantly. "Be careful, Dorian!" he shouted back, a wide, worried smile on his face. "And do not go past the atmosphere, you hear me?!"
"Got it! We'll be back in ten!" Dorian's voice replied, and the ramp hissed shut. A moment later, the ship's engines whined to life, and it hovered gracefully, a few feet off the ground, before banking and soaring into the sky.
…
Night fell on Friton, blanketing the vast, quiet property in a peaceful darkness, a stark contrast to the eternal, neon-lit gloom of Nexus Prime. Dorian, restless, walked down the clean hallway of their new, grand house and knocked gently on Lyra's door.
"Can I come in?"
A few seconds of silence, then, "Come in."
Dorian opened the door. Lyra was at her new desk, a high-end academic terminal glowing in the dark, holographic texts and complex equations floating in the air around her.
"So," Dorian said, sitting on the edge of her bed. "How's Astra Nova?"
"It's easy," Lyra said, her eyes not leaving the screen, her fingers still tapping on the data-slate.
Dorian sat there for a moment, then nudged her shoulder. "You can be honest with me, dummy."
Lyra's fingers stopped. She let out a long, hard exhale, her shoulders slumping. "It's sooo hard," she whined, finally turning around, her face a mask of academic exhaustion.
Dorian laughed. "And you said you wanted to attend early last year."
"You did it at Aethelgard, why can't I?" Lyra pouted, crossing her arms.
"You think it wasn't hard for me?" he countered, his smile softening.
Lyra looked down, her expression suddenly vulnerable. "You're... you're not mad, right? About my chosen major?"
"Are you majoring in being a criminal?" Dorian teased.
"Be serious!" she snapped, shoving him.
"Hahahaha, I am!" he laughed. "But no, I'm not mad. As I said, Lyra, you can choose whatever you want. I mean it."
"Humph," she said, still looking at him, unconvinced. "So what are you really doing here? You're not just 'checking in'."
Dorian held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. So, I have several new ideas for games."
Lyra's exhaustion vanished instantly, replaced by a jolt of pure hype. Her eyes lit up. "Are you going to make more expansions for Stardew Valley?"
"What are you talking about?" Dorian said, baffled. "I already made those three new expansions you requested!"
"I know, but..." Lyra scrambled from her chair, grabbing her personal heliopad from her nightstand. "From the survey I gathered in the forums, there is so much more you can add. Like this one, the 'Crimson Badlands' idea, it has 80% user approval..."
"Alright, stop!" Dorian laughed, holding up his hands. "Not now. Maybe I'll add them later... if you get a high score on your end-of-term exams."
"Yeaayy!" Lyra cheered, not even realizing she'd been bribed. "I'll compile everything into a full presentation, with demographic breakdowns!" She quickly, almost manically, cleaned the clutter off her bed, her mind now in 'business mode'. "So," she said, sitting cross-legged. "Tell me. What's this new venture?"
Dorian's expression turned serious. "I need you to be honest with me. Ratik doesn't know the game market; she just sees the numbers and thinks Stardew was a fluke. And Marcus... well, Marcus would be excited if I made a game about watching paint dry."
He tossed a small, silver puck onto the floor. It whirred to life, a cone of holographic light shooting up from its center. He connected it to his heliopad and began to control the series of sketches and story outlines floating in the air between them. He swiped, organizing the ideas, the glowing sketches of characters and environments spinning in the dark room.
Lyra watched, mesmerized by the art, which was darker, sharper, and more stylized than Stardew's pixelated charm. She pointed to the central character, a young, rebellious-looking man with mismatched eyes, glowing feet, a laurel wreath, and a wicked-looking red-and-black sword.
"Who is he?"
Dorian smiled. "Zagreus. The protagonist of my next game."
⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙
🎮:
- Stardwey Valley: Completed.
- Coming Soon: ◌ loading...
🎬: -
♬:
- Your Name – Elton John (ch.9)
- A Lovely Night – La La Land (ch.20)
- Merry Go Round of Life – Howl's Moving Castle (ch.25)
- Small Fragile Hearts – Victor Lundberg (ch. 27)
- Skyfall – Adele (ch. 29)
- No Time To Die – Billie Eilish (ch. 30)
- Yesterday – The Beatles (ch. 32)
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**