It’s not that kind of malicious broadcast

The gathering started on a relatively friendly note. After all, the person had been invited as a guest.

There was a trivial issue, though—that guest was the same person who had been leading the sit-in protest right outside their house until not long ago. Still, no one was certain if it had been a protest or something else altogether.

Moreover, the CEO J. Dox knew little about the recent assembly. He hadn’t imagined that the branch manager had whimsically requested a review for a lawsuit.

Driven purely by enthusiasm and before he could even issue plane tickets for his Asia tour, he had already sent an invitation to Lee Yena.

From the days when he had solely been developing roguelike indie games, J. Dox had been focused on development alone—a trait that hadn’t changed even after the explosive growth of “Knight of Knights”.

As the company’s scale expanded rapidly, his title evolved from ‘developer’ to ‘tech lead’ and then to ‘chief technology officer’. When public opinion soured, he also reluctantly took on the title of ‘CEO’, partly as a form of shielding. Yet, nothing had fundamentally changed about him.

So, meeting someone who maximally enjoyed the game he had poured his life into, brought him genuine delight.

Conversely, the branch manager, seated next to him, couldn’t have been less pleased, yet he strived to maintain a cordial appearance painstakingly. It was no easy feat.

A few days prior, determined to demonstrate Korean hospitality, the branch manager had waited until 2 AM at Incheon Airport’s arrivals section. The CEO, dressed in a checkered shirt and tracksuit rather than a business suit, had appeared among the economy class passengers, not business class.

Thanks to his extensive experience in reception, the branch manager had managed to handle this without showing any surprise.

Yet, bearing the sight of the CEO disheartened by the confiscation of custom-made dual daggers he had intended to gift—because they were a banned item—had been particularly challenging.

Even so, relying on his accumulated experience, the branch manager had actively listened and responded to the CEO’s detailed, though incomprehensible, explanation about those daggers, feigning keen interest.

Seizing the perfect opportunity when the conversation dulled, the branch manager managed to skillfully interject. Every professional has their own battles to fight, and like any battle, the outcome often hinges on the timing and quality of the first strike.

His opening move was a report on the increasing bug issues, indicating that they were getting numerous customer queries in Korea and were mobilizing all available resources to tackle the problem, although it wasn’t easy.

Fortunately, the CEO reacted enthusiastically. He lamented how bugs were erupting like volcanoes in unexpected areas, leading him to even have nightmares. Their guess had been right—the CEO was chiefly concerned about the bugs.

Now, it was time to subtly inform the CEO that they had already considered various measures to stop the notorious “GetDevoured’s” propagation of bugs. It was a chance to showcase his preparedness and competence.

With the facade of calmness, the branch manager began to speak, but all he could manage at the outset was the single word, ‘GetDevoured’.

Immediately, the CEO, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, almost leaped from his chair, starting with a plea about how the daggers, meant as a gift for that very person, had been confiscated and desperately asking if there was any way to get them back.

“It seemed like they weren’t a professional gamer, but do we know anything about them?”

“I was too curious, so I sent an invitation to meet via the email GetDevoured used to sign up, but they haven’t responded.”

“We can’t even imagine how much they love our game.”

“It felt like they had mastered all the mechanics of KoK.”

“Their gameplay was just insane. CEO, did you see it? If not, you definitely need to watch the final game of Season 1.”

“It’s almost regrettable that the planning department decided to nerf the Rogue.”

“Thinking we won’t be able to see that kind of play again after the patch… No, honestly, if they manage to pull it off even after the nerf, that would be even more impressive. Still, it’s such a pity.”

“If we had three more people like that, our QA team would probably all be out of a job.”

“But, is there really no way to meet them?”

After pouring out all those words in just about a minute, the person looked at the driver’s seat with sparkling eyes.

Fortunately, they had arrived at the hotel, allowing the CEO to round off the conversation with a conventional, “I’ll check and report back”, though his mind was shrouded in darkness.

All he could do was hope that Attorney Yoo, who had been asked to maintain confidentiality, would act her part convincingly.

* * * *

Thus, when they finally met, the exchange of greetings between Lee Yena and the CEO was genuinely heartfelt.

Next to them, the CEO and Lee Yeri greeted each other more formally, trying their best to feign ignorance of each other.

And just seconds after those slightly tense greetings:

“Congratulations on achieving the top rank on the Korean server! I’ve watched all the finals of Season 1 across various servers, and you were by far the best. Your exceptional performance, surpassing the Rogue’s limitations, was like—wow. It felt like you were flying alone on a battlefield designed for everyone to run and crawl. Truly, as a developer, your continuous streak of unforeseen gameplay made me watch as a mere fan.”

Although they knew it was part of the exaggerated politeness characteristic of the western United States, Lee Yeri, watching from the middle, couldn’t help but feel proud.

After all, her sister was more passionate about KoK than anyone. Receiving such high praise from the game’s developer—how delighted she must be.

However, unfortunately, her sister maintained her usual emotionless expression.

“Thank you. I’m happy. Not only for creating the game that I love the most but also for your flattering description of a Rogue’s flight. Thank you.”

Without so much as a hint of a smile, she responded in this manner.

“But the patch cut the wings, didn’t it? Blood was gushing out. The floor was soaked. It was as if I could see the shattered pieces of the wings with my own eyes.”

No matter how you looked at it, it wasn’t something to say in front of a boss you were meeting for the first time.

“Ah, Yena? Let me interpret for you. Speak comfortably. Boss, manager-nim, if it’s alright with you, I’ll act as the interpreter. My younger sister isn’t very fluent in English, so there might have been some misunderstandings in her expressions.”

The moment she said this, the expressions of the CEO and the manager sitting across from them visibly relaxed.

Of course,

“Ah… thank you. Then, um, I was curious about the reason for such a destructive patch from Faraday. I pondered it on my own, but was it a patch intended to help users prepare mentally for parting before turning KoK entirely into a corpse? Could you ask that for me?”

“… Yena, I need to go to the restroom for a second. Could you come with me? Excuse me, but we’re terribly sorry, can we use the restroom for a moment?”

“Oh, of course! Take your time.”

Only the CEO, who couldn’t understand Korean, maintained a relaxed expression.

.

.

.

A short walk later, they arrived at the restroom.

“Yena, I’m just asking out of curiosity… have you learned anything about Faraday Games?”

“…Sorry. It’s hard for me to tell you, unnie.”

The question from her sister, whose job made her suspicious and meticulous about checking risks, and the answer from her sister, who had a lot to hide, did not align—

‘It doesn’t look like the Korean branch’s security is that thorough… Did any information leak that the manager requested a review of a potential lawsuit? No wonder I got a sudden call asking to take special care in maintaining confidentiality. Whatever it is, there seems to have been some issue. If that’s why they’re acting so aggressively… Oh, could it be that Yena thinks I, that I am also, misunderstanding…?’

Lee Yeri’s mind was filled with just one thought.

“…Faraday won’t do anything reckless. I’ll take responsibility and persuade them, so don’t worry. I’m on your side, Yena.”

“… Unnie? No, um. I really appreciate your concern… but they’re already doing something reckless. It’s fine.”

“No, they haven’t actually carried anything out yet. We can still stop it. Let’s go back and resolve it through conversation. Let me filter what you say under the guise of interpreting.”

“… Nothing has been carried out…well, alright. Let’s try it that way for now.”

The result was two people, each resolute for different reasons.

* * * *

It was not a familiar face. The original CEO of Faraday Games was a bit more… well, honestly, I didn’t remember exactly, but I thought he had more hair.

Even in the faint memory of seeing him in some interview video, it was difficult to mistake him for the same person.

If I had to judge, perhaps it was a good thing. Maybe one of the reasons KoK became more popular was because of this person. After all, it was a pleasantly surprising disparity I hadn’t encountered in a long time.

With such thoughts, I was explaining the importance of the patch direction in detail.

“… It’s okay. There’s no need to go out again… Eventually, someone will discover the bugs even if I don’t.”

“… Stop hinting that you’re planning to do it… No, wait, let’s just gather our thoughts for a moment. I’m really sorry, both of you. Yena’s passion for KoK is great, but she hasn’t fully sorted out her thoughts yet. She needs a bit more time.”

… Saying that my thoughts couldn’t be clearer than they already were… would not be appropriate.

Even hiring and following an attorney wasn’t an easy matter. My mouth felt itchy.

But still…

…because it was Lee Yeri.

Just as I was trying to suppress the frown forming on my forehead and about to stand up.

“Please, just a moment.”

The CEO raised both hands to stop us and spoke.

“We don’t have much time, and there’s so much I want to ask. We lack time. If you want to discuss things in private, how about our branch manager steps out for a bit? I don’t understand Korean at all, so you can arrange things here and speak immediately. How does that sound?”

“We’re fine with either option.”

The attorney responded promptly.

No, it’s fine if they don’t step out.

Do attorneys always do this? It felt as if my right to speak had vanished.