Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Ethan! Get out here!"
"Ethan! If you've got the guts, hide for the rest of your life!"
"Boss, we haven't been paid in two months! Get your ass out here!"
"Dammit! Give us our money!"
The cacophony outside the door jolted Ethan awake. He struggled to open his eyes and looked around; he was in an office. Documents were piled haphazardly on the desk, with several sheets of paper scattered across the floor.
A face was reflected in the black screen of the computer—a face etched with exhaustion and haggardness. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept for ten days. His hair looked like a bird's nest, and his beard hadn't been trimmed in ages. His suit was a mess of wrinkles, and his tie had been carelessly ripped off and tossed aside.
"I... Why am I here?!"
Ethan questioned the reflection. He was originally just another corporate drone, lying in his rented room late at night scrolling through live streams. But after a sudden blackout, he'd ended up here.
He gave his cheek a hard pinch. The sharp sting proved he wasn't dreaming. As he looked around, the office gave him an inexplicable sense of familiarity. It brought back memories of his first and only entrepreneurial venture: Pathfinder Technology.
Pathfinder was a game company. Its goal had been to become a giant like Blizzard or Riot. Currently, they were operating two major titles: a racing game and a rhythm-dance game. Both were blatant imitations of industry leaders. He'd thought that by following in the footsteps of giants, he could at least get a share of the spoils. Instead, he couldn't even catch his breath.
For a startup, trying to go head-to-head with industry titans right out of the gate was pure suicide. Unsurprisingly, revenue was negligible, and the company was on the verge of bankruptcy. In his original life, Ethan had been left with a mountain of debt, spending the rest of his years as an honest corporate slave.
But it seemed the universe was giving him a second chance. He had returned to the very eve of the collapse.
Ethan tapped the keyboard. The screen flickered to life with the characteristic graininess of an old monitor. The date in the corner read: June 10, 2008.
This was a golden era. Many industries were still gathering strength, and the mobile internet hadn't yet exploded. The giants he knew were still in their growth phases. Live streaming, food delivery, short videos—there were countless fortunes waiting to be made.
Even a pig can fly if it stands in the path of a gale!
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Ethan! Get out!"
The vigorous knocking snapped him back to reality. He remembered this day vividly. He had defaulted on two months' wages, and the employees had reached their limit. In his past life, this was the day he officially declared bankruptcy.
"B... Boss, what should we do? We—we really have no money left in the company account."
Ethan noticed a female employee trembling in the corner. It was Susie, the company accountant. She'd hidden in his office, terrified by the mob outside.
"It's fine. Our company is about to take off," Ethan comforted her.
Susie's eyes widened. Has the boss finally snapped?
Straightening his suit, Ethan walked toward the door with newfound confidence. Just you wait. Now that I'm back, I'm not just running a company—I'm building an empire.
"Boss, be careful. They look like they're ready to eat someone alive," Susie whispered.
"It's fine. Watch me."
The office door swung open. Several pairs of bloodshot eyes fixed on Ethan. He felt like he was being stared down by a pack of hungry wolves.
"Ethan, if you don't give us an explanation today, none of us are leaving!" one man shouted.
"That's right! Don't even think about running!"
Several angry employees grabbed his clothes, accidentally tearing a hole in his pocket.
"Hey, watch the suit! Stop! Are you trying to eat me?!"
Ethan shouted to drown out the noise. "Alright, everyone, quiet! Listen to me! I guarantee you right here and now: I will pay every cent of the wages I owe you on time! I, Ethan, am not going anywhere!"
The sudden declaration threw them off.
"Are you telling the truth?" a thin, frail girl asked weakly.
Ethan recognized her—Maya, from the art team. She had joined right after graduation, hoping to be a "founding member." Instead, she'd been given a harsh lesson in reality. He knew she'd been living on plain bread for weeks because she was too broke to afford real food.
I really was a bastard, Ethan thought.
"Of course!" Ethan said solemnly. "Today, even if I have to mortgage my house, sell everything I own, or—hell—become a male model, I will get you your money! I'll sell my own blood if I have to!"
The employees were stunned into silence by his intensity.
"Damn, that's intense."
"Do you think the boss's face could actually fetch a good price?"
"Definitely. The older socialites love that 'struggling artist' look."
Seeing the topic drift, Ethan quickly interjected. "Everyone, please, go back to your desks. I need time to raise the funds. Just give me a little breathing room."
The employees looked at each other. Sensing his sincerity, they slowly dispersed. Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to find a way to pay them; otherwise, the foundation of his future empire would crumble before the first brick was laid.
He stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the room. It was a seventy-square-meter office with six cramped desks and a few withered plants. This was it—the art team, the sound team, and the programmers. Two people per group.
They sat at their stations, pretending to work, but Ethan could see their eyes drifting toward him, constantly checking to see if their boss was about to bolt for the fire escape.
He didn't blame them. But in 2008, with the knowledge of the future in his head, paying them back was going to be the easiest thing he'd ever do.