"Ethan… did something happen between you and the boss these past few days?"
In the company break room, Daniel held a cup of espresso in his hand. He hesitated for a moment before lowering his voice and speaking quietly.
"I feel like she's been avoiding you lately."
Daniel wasn't imagining things.
After two straight days without candy, he felt uncomfortable all over, as if something was missing. At Northstar Games, getting sweets from the boss had become an unspoken daily ritual—small rewards that boosted morale and kept everyone smiling.
It wasn't just Daniel who noticed the change.
Even employees stationed in Lumen City, including several senior team members, had sensed that something was off between Ethan Reed and their boss.
After all, Northstar Games' internal motto was simple and famous:
"Work hard, enjoy entertainment, and never skip the sweet moments."
And honestly—what was better than receiving candy directly from your boss?
Nothing.
Watching other people's relationships was always fun and easy. But once you were personally involved, everything became complicated. Every small detail felt amplified.
"I honestly don't know," Ethan replied quietly.
He leaned against the counter, his expression filled with confusion.
Over the past two days, Vivian Frost had clearly been avoiding him. Ethan wasn't dense—despite how he sometimes acted. He wasn't just a programmer; he had an engineering background, and he was good at noticing patterns.
And this pattern bothered him.
Something in Vivian's attitude toward him had changed.
Logically speaking, it didn't make sense. After spending nearly a year working closely together, Ethan knew Vivian wasn't petty. Yes, she could be greedy, proud, and occasionally arrogant—but she was never narrow-minded.
If anything, she was generous to a fault.
Otherwise, how could she calmly tolerate Ethan's occasional wandering gaze and still treat him kindly afterward?
She was a confident, wealthy, and broad-minded boss.
So what exactly was the problem?
What confused Ethan even more was this—Vivian didn't look angry.
Several times, while sitting in her office, she had stared at him quietly. Sometimes she would look away quickly, other times she would simply freeze, lost in thought.
If she were truly angry about that incident, would she really stare at him like that?
"Did you argue with the boss?" Daniel asked cautiously.
"No chance," Ethan replied immediately, shaking his head. "Our relationship is solid. Don't spread rumors. Maybe she's just not in a good mood lately. You know… everyone has a few rough days every month."
Before Daniel could respond, Ethan smoothly changed the topic.
He lifted a teacup—one Vivian had personally brought from home—and blew gently over the tea bag before taking a sip.
"By the way," Ethan said, "have you contacted the platform yet?"
Daniel nodded. "Yes. Thanks to our previous collaboration on Animal Party, we've already spoken with their manager. They promised us a featured placement. But like you instructed, I rejected their distribution and investment proposal."
He paused before adding, "Their representative, Stephen, didn't take it well. He's been pretty cold since then."
Ethan smiled faintly.
"He didn't get any benefits, so of course he's unhappy. That's normal."
He wasn't worried at all.
"As long as it doesn't affect our launch, it's fine. They won't cause trouble either. We're still cooperating on Animal Party. If they act up now, it won't end well for them."
And Ethan was right.
Animal Party had been a massive success. Its cheerful tone and family-friendly design perfectly matched overseas audiences, and its console version was still gaining momentum.
At this stage, even a massive platform had to tread carefully.
What they truly cared about wasn't Northstar Games.
It was Animal Party.
If Skybound managed to secure exclusivity while they failed, the damage wouldn't just be financial—it would strike at their reputation as the world's leading game platform.
That kind of loss could even affect market confidence.
In the past, major international platforms had underestimated the Asian market. That mistake had allowed Skybound to rise rapidly.
Compared to darker, less user-friendly interfaces and unstable servers, Skybound felt cleaner, brighter, and more approachable. Players didn't need accelerators. Everything just worked.
And the numbers proved it.
Recent domestic research showed that the gaming population had surpassed 600 million users.
Six hundred million.
Even if a large portion came from mobile gaming, the sheer size of the market was staggering.
No platform could afford to ignore that.
"Prepare everything," Ethan said calmly. "We'll launch on Skybound and Steam simultaneously."
He took another sip of tea.
"And within one month—we break one million sales."
Daniel nodded without hesitation.
He trusted Ethan completely.
Ironically, Neon Blade: Echoes of Lumen had only crossed one million sales so far, despite its massive budget. Yet Daniel firmly believed Stardew Valley would sell five times that amount—with only a fraction of the development cost.
The development speed alone was unbelievable.
Still, Daniel understood they weren't comparable projects.
Neon Blade earned long-term revenue through adaptations and licensing. Stardew Valley was pure gameplay—but that was exactly its strength.
"The game goes live the day after tomorrow," Ethan said, patting Daniel on the shoulder. "Get ready."
He turned and left the break room.
Moments later, Daniel noticed Ethan return.
This time, Ethan was holding a small, pink cup with a lid decorated with rabbit ears—cute, delicate, and unmistakable.
"…The boss's cup?" Daniel asked, smirking.
Ethan shot him a sharp look.
"Watch your face. You're third-in-command now."
With hot water poured and dignity restored, Ethan left again.
Daniel took another sip of coffee.
But all he tasted was a strange mix of bitterness and sweetness.
"That really feels good," he muttered.
The Marketing Explosion
On May 24th, something unexpected happened.
Forty game videos appeared simultaneously in the gaming section of BiliZone.
At first glance, they looked similar.
But in reality, each one showcased something completely different.
Within hours, all forty videos climbed the trending charts.
Everyone had been waiting.
Forums, discussion boards, and video platforms were buzzing with curiosity about Northstar Games' mysterious trial event.
The forty invited creators had stayed silent for days, bound by strict confidentiality agreements. All they could say was that the game was "fun" and "addictive."
But now—
The silence was broken.
Creators like Willow and others had received full, uncut gameplay recordings from Daniel, along with a clear message:
"This is your trial gameplay footage. Please create a promotional video for Stardew Valley.
Base fee: 5,000 yuan.
Bonus: 200 yuan for every additional 50,000 views."
There was no reason to hesitate.
Willow worked nonstop for a day and a half.
His focus?
Strawberries.
During his seven-day trial at Northstar Games, he had tested everything—growth cycles, profit timing, market demand.
Strawberries were king.
"Hello everyone, I'm Willow," he said in his video.
"Today, I'll teach you the most efficient way to grow strawberries!"
Other creators followed quickly:
"Hello everyone, I'm Sweetie. Today, I'll show you how to romance the male characters!"
"This is Handsome Bro. Let me be honest—during my seven days at Northstar Games, I learned how to mine deep underground and fight flying monsters!"
"I'm Tank. Fishing in Stardew Valley is a gamble. Catching a legendary fish will make your heart race!"
Video after video flooded the platform.
By afternoon, the BiliZone charts were completely dominated by titles starting with:
"Stardew Valley:"
Some creators shared life at Northstar Games.
Some explored game mechanics.
Some praised the company culture.
Some openly admired Ethan Reed and Vivian Frost.
And together—
Stardew Valley officially entered the spotlight.
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Extra chapters available on patreon
patreon.com/Samurai492 🔥🔥🔥
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