WindyPeak was out. Zoey Parker wasn't thrilled, but not crushed either. Gus Harper, a hired gun on P.T., brought home $300,000. No loss there.
Her worry? Gus's heart. He'd been stoked for Silent Hill's potential, diving into the Tokyo International Game Festival with passion. Komina's betrayal axed his vision. When Gus warned her the project might tank, Zoey asked how he felt.
Gus's take? Screw Komina. P.T. was cursed. In another life, Hideo Kojima clashed with Konami execs and bailed mid-project. Gus's path echoed that—different details, same end. Worse, Komina's flip meant Silent Hill was likely dead. They'd botched horror games before, losing big. With the IP in their hands, it'd stay buried.
Gus regretted it but wasn't broken. He'd kept Silent Hill's full concept—his grand design—hidden from Komina. All they got was a 30-minute $3 million demo, $100,000 per minute. A cash machine.
P.T.'s hype revived Silent Hill's buzz, letting Komina coast. A draw—nobody won, nobody lost. Or so it seemed.
First, P.T. made Gus the "King of Horror Games," dubbed by global media as horror's savior and psychological horror's father. That market cred outshone awards.
Second, Yuki Kamikawa's idea to flesh out the protagonist birthed Miles Upshur, a fearless journalist. Miles was Gus's key to a horror universe, untied to Silent Hill's IP—a masterstroke for WindyPeak.
On the call, Gus grinned. "So, Yuki, you're saying Komina's going solo on Silent Hill?"
Yuki was floored by Gus's foresight. This guy played nice in Tokyo, all charm and openness, but he'd sniffed out Komina's move. Sharp as hell for his age.
"I… uh…" Yuki stammered. "That's it."
"Nothing else?" Gus teased. "Like, after leaking this, where you headed?"
"Oh, right!" Yuki smacked her forehead. "There's more…"
She hesitated, feeling like a deal-maker with impure motives. But she'd spilled fast, no bargaining intended. Young and shy, unlike Muneki Sato, who jumped in: "What's the salary and benefits at WindyPeak?"
Sato—smart and shameless. Not invincible, but he lived easy. His voice surprised Gus. "A third listener?"
Sato sighed. "Not Kazu Okura. His dad's sick, only son. He's tied down."
"No worries," Gus said. "Plenty of time later. Now, our CEO Zoey will talk pay."
Gus shot Zoey a sly look. Strike while hot—ride P.T.'s fame. Use their tools—Miles as a horror universe key. Poach talent—the enemy's in HQ. No loss, only gains.
Zoey caught his signal. Gus held up four fingers left, three right: Sato's Komina salary was $400,000, Yuki's $300,000. Gaming salaries in the U.S. ran 10-15% lower than Japan's, but these were modest for Komina's scale.
Zoey smirked. "We'll double it. Sato, $800,000. Yuki, $600,000."
Gus choked on his water, eyes wide. "What?! My salary's $500,000!"
Sato, stunned, thought he misheard. He'd expected a pay cut, banking on WindyPeak's potential. Double? Unreal.
Yuki laughed, taking the phone. "We'll see you in two days, Zoey."
"Sweet," Zoey giggled. "I'll pick you up."
Call ended. Yuki waved at dazed Sato. "Sato-senpai? You good?"
Sato blinked. "Is Zoey rejecting us? Some subtle hint?"
Yuki chuckled. "Nope. She meant it. That's Zoey—her dad's a major U.S. tycoon."
In WindyPeak's Seattle office, Gus wiped his mouth. "$800,000? $600,000? You crazy?"
Zoey laughed. "Jealous? You poached them."
"It's not jealousy," Gus said. "That's way above our pay scale. Others'll talk."
Zoey shrugged. "Who says it's above? They beat you, so I'm raising everyone's pay tomorrow."
Gus blinked. "No raise for me?"
"You don't care," Zoey teased.
"Fine!" Gus stood, grinning. "Heard Nebula Games is struggling. They'd pay $1 million for me. I'm out!"
"Hey!" Zoey grabbed his arm. "Chill, we'll talk."
Gus waved dramatically. "A man can't stay underpaid!"
"$1.5 million!" Zoey blurted. "Plus VP title."
Gus spun, bowing. "I've wandered half my life, seeking a true leader. I'm yours!"
Zoey giggled. WindyPeak was thriving—Apex ($50M), PUBG ($50M), Titanfall ($170M), and indie hits like Phasmophobia ($2M). Time for raises. Higher costs meant bigger future losses, Zoey's goal. More investment, less profit. A $5B game on IndieVibe 2, priced at $500, wouldn't sell enough to break even. Raises locked in loyalty, prepped for the billion-dollar club, and used Komina's betrayal to poach talent. Win-win.
Who's sweating? Komina.