The contract was short.
A single sheet, printed on cheap paper, with more blank space than text. It promised no stability, no duration. It only specified a role, a modest monthly salary, and a simple exit clause for both parties.
Kisaragi slid it across the desk."Read it, even if it doesn't say much."
I did. Nothing surprising.
I signed.
Kisaragi added his name beneath mine and filed the document in an unlabeled folder."That's it," he said."You're officially part of the problem."
No smiles. Not mine, not his.
That morning, I started working immediately. Sato was already at his desk, surrounded by floppies."Welcome for real," he said without looking up."Now it really counts as your fault."
I turned on the PC-98. The project loaded without errors. At least, not immediately.
Around noon, Kisaragi gathered us together. Mori perched on the edge of a table, notebook open.
"We need to close a playable prototype," Kisaragi said."Something we can show. Not pretty. Functional."
"How long?" Mori asked."One month."
No one reacted."That's optimistic," Sato muttered."That's all there is," Kisaragi added.
It wasn't a discussion. It was a statement of fact.
He pointed to the whiteboard. It had a few poorly drawn diagrams."Combat works. Exploration works, more or less. What doesn't work… is the levels."
I looked at the board."They don't guide the player," I said."They only contain them."
Mori tilted her head."What's the difference?"
I took a moment."A good level doesn't just limit movement," I said."It suggests decisions. Makes the player understand what to do without telling them."
Sato chuckled."That sounds expensive."
"Not necessarily," I replied."It just needs intention."
I proposed something simple. Reorder the initial maps so the player learned mechanics one by one. Use narrow corridors to teach collision. Open rooms for combat. Repeated elements to build familiarity.
Nothing new.Just organized.
"And memory?" Kisaragi asked."We're not adding anything," I said."We're reusing what already exists."
He was interested.
That afternoon, I worked on a new starting map. I didn't draw it. I described it in numbers, imagining the path in my head.
Sato checked event logic. Mori adjusted minimal sprites so certain objects stood out without using extra colors.
The PC-98 complained, but it obeyed.
By the end of the day, we loaded the prototype.
The character appeared on screen. Walked. Attacked. Entered combat.
Nothing broke.
"…Feels better," Mori said."Not fun yet," Sato replied."But it doesn't get in the way anymore," Kisaragi added.
That was progress.
I shut down the PC and filed the floppies. The signed contract was in a drawer, mixed with other papers, disorganized.
As we left, Kisaragi spoke without looking at us."If this project doesn't work, we close."
No one replied. It wasn't a threat. It was a probability.
I walked home thinking about the map I had designed. Not about the game's success. Not about the company's future.Just which small adjustment could make it a little better tomorrow.
For now, that was enough.