ISTV 01

Lee Juhwan, the “dad’s son,” had a knack for saying things in the most irritating way possible.

“Uh, just do what you want. Lee Sohyun might suck at socializing, but she’s a damn good junior developer.”

Normally, people would say “mom’s son,” but calling him “dad’s son” wasn’t for any special reason.

It was simply because we didn’t have a mom.

She left us when I was three, running off with someone else.

Our dad raised us, so calling someone a “dad’s kid” felt much more natural than “mom’s kid.”

Anyway, even though Juhwan’s words pissed me off, I had to admit they gave me some strength.

Whether it was unfortunate or fortunate, Juhwan was the CEO of J&S Games—our company.

Don’t ask me why it’s called J&S. I have no clue.

Maybe the J is for Juhwan. The S? His ex-girlfriend, maybe?

“Alright. One way or another, I have to kill off Sayla.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you’ll do what you want.”

Sayla was the name of the villainess in the game we were developing, That Summer, They Were There.

We’d been putting in an enormous amount of effort to make her an alluring antagonist.

Depending on the route, she could be a petty villain or the final boss. If left alive, she became exponentially dangerous.

“But do you really have to kill off that character? Didn’t the team strongly oppose it?”

“That’s because they’re all just salary leeches.”

The rest of the team had the “as long as the paycheck comes in” mindset.

They often criticized me for being too passionate about company work, but I couldn’t agree.

It wasn’t just because it was my brother’s company. I had poured four years of obsession into That Summer, They Were There—or TS3 for short.

“Sayla only becomes captivating when she dies. That’s when she truly shines.”

“She’s most elegant and charming in death—you’ve said that like a hundred times. My ears are bleeding.”

“Sayla…”

“Yeah, I know. A character who dies with 99.9% probability in all simulations.”

“You remembered?”

“If I didn’t, I’d be a goldfish. Anyway, what really bothers you is that 0.1%, right?”

“Yeah. The narrative keeps clashing with the logic, so I can’t kill her off completely.”

In the “World of All Beauty” route, Sayla sometimes came back to life and vanished mysteriously.

I was still working hard to eliminate even that possibility.

“Keep working on it. Oh, right.”

With his usual indifference, my brother added casually,

“What were the names of the people gossiping about you?”

That Summer, They Were There had officially launched.

Known as TS3, the game was an R-rated female-oriented romance game, focused on the heroine and her relationships with three gorgeous—and insane—male leads.

[K-Content does it again!]

[Massive global impact: What is TS3?]

[J&S Games CEO Lee Juhwan says, “The game’s success is thanks to our junior dev.”]

Despite being a niche genre, the game sparked a global craze.

Especially Sayla d’Vernon, the character I’d designed with all my heart, was selected by Gomonji—the TIME magazine of the gaming world—as the “Most Alluring Villain.”

It was the highest honor a game developer and character designer could hope for.

Within days, the game racked up hundreds of billions in revenue, and I was flooded with offers for secondary creations and collaborations.

Top production studios from around the world were knocking on our door, trying to secure the IP rights.

“You’re the one who designed Sayla d’Vernon? How about working with us?”

Scout offers poured in, many with better pay and perks, but I had no intention of switching companies.

Sure, it helped that my brother owned J&S Games—but more importantly, I had a personal reason to stay.

TS3 wasn’t finished yet. I wanted it to be even more perfect.

‘Alright, she’s dead in this route too.’

At this point, Sayla died pretty much no matter what, even without much effort.

‘This time, Leon killed her.’

On my phone screen, a breathtakingly beautiful man—yes, we poured money and soul into the art and cinematics—spoke in a calm voice.

“Sayla d’Vernon. You were my first love. And tonight, my first love fades away forever.”

The screen turned red, and the sound of a sharp blade rang out.

Then my love—no, Sayla—appeared. The villainess ranked among Gomonji’s Top 10 Most Alluring Villains.

Sitting gracefully on a bed, she said,

“Was I ever anyone’s first love? What a meaningful night. Seems like it’ll be a long one.”

Her long, pale fingers slipped away without strength.

As the sad, gentle BGM played, Sayla lay alone on the bed.

Her white sheets were now soaked in deep crimson.

She sat upright, peacefully asleep, her eyes gently closed.

Damn. She’s stunning.

I stared at the screen with a hand over my mouth.

Nearly dropped my phone right on my face from the shock.

The perspective shifted, and Prince Leon’s voice came in.

“Aileen. My first love is gone. Now I can devote myself entirely to you.”

Leon, one of the three crazy male leads, was in the “openly insane” category.

Madly obsessed with Aileen, the heroine, he believed that only by removing his childhood first love Sayla could he prove his love to her.

“Sayla smiled faintly. So there was a time when I meant something to someone… It was a quiet night, never to be broken again.”

Knowing Sayla’s backstory and why she had no choice but to become a villain, I found tears welling in my eyes.

But then, a voice echoed out of nowhere.

“I didn’t want to die.”

Startled, my eyes flew open.

I looked around. No one was there.

But the voice… sounded strangely familiar.

“You try living through it. Bring me back.”

No way…

A chill ran down my spine. I squinted at the phone screen.

“AAAAAHHH!”

Sayla d’Vernon, who had just died, was now staring at me—eyes open.

We definitely made eye contact.

Her bloodstained fingers seemed to reach through the screen toward me.

Without thinking, I hurled my phone at the wall.

My scream brought my brother rushing into the room.

“What happened?!”

“M-my… my phone!”

“Your phone? Why?”

Juhwan picked it up and sighed.

“You’re screaming over a cracked screen?”

He walked over and smacked me on the head.

“Don’t scare me like that.”

I stared blankly at the phone in his hand.

Just a plain black screen.

Did I hallucinate…?

Cold sweat ran down my back.

“Go to sleep. Stop being annoying.”

“My phone…”

“It’s completely smashed. I’ll get you a new one tomorrow. Now get your ass in bed.”

He glanced at my trembling form and left the room with the broken phone.

I pulled the blanket over my head.

I must’ve heard wrong. Seen wrong.

I forced myself to sleep.

In my sleep, I had a nightmare.

The ceiling turned into a phone screen.

A blood-soaked Sayla kept staring at me.

Too scared to open my eyes, I felt something warm and wet drop onto my cheek.

The lukewarm sensation sent my mind racing.

Wait… it can’t be blood, right?

No way. Probably not.

I slowly opened my eyes.

Huh?

It was oddly bright.

Then a voice called out,

“Hey, you crying?”

It wasn’t my brother’s voice. It was a young boy.

I didn’t know why, but a wave of overwhelming sorrow hit me.

I felt like I had to cry.

But why was it so bright? Where was I? A garden?

It felt… familiar.

Something was definitely off.

Another dream?

“If anyone should be crying, it’s me. Why are you crying?”

“…”

“You promised you’d finish it today, Sayla.”

A blond, fair-skinned, freckled boy was staring at me.

He looked about twelve or thirteen, but his eyes were full of defiance.

For some reason, he looked angry at me.

Did I fall asleep without noticing?

It felt like a dream, but it was too vivid.

The sun overhead, the breeze on my skin, even the faint scent of flowers in the wind…

“How are you going to take responsibility for this?!”

For some reason, I felt like I’d done something very wrong.

“If you’ve got a mouth, use it!”

The boy shouting at me—I knew exactly who he was.

Garen d’Vernon, the second son of the d’Vernon family. One of Sayla’s older brothers.

Today is seriously messed up.

First hallucinations, now this super vivid dream.

Suddenly, memories began to trickle in.

Oh… I’d promised to do his homework for him by today.

Maybe because it was a dream, that boy felt like my real brother.

Doing his homework? Whether in dreams or in real life, dad’s sons are all pains in the ass.

Still, the dream wasn’t scary anymore—it was even kind of warm, and I felt better.

Instead of fear, I was now filled with a righteous sense of duty to set this brat straight.

It’s your homework. Why are you yelling at me? Do you want to die?

But then—

“That’s your task, Brother. Don’t lash out for no reason.”

Not only was that not my voice—it was far too elegant!

Why was I suddenly speaking like a noble lady?

Something was very, very wrong.