The next second, as if moved by some unspoken understanding, two figures rose from their seats at the same time.
Chair legs scraped against the floor. It wasn't a loud sound, but in the suddenly charged air it cut through like a shot.
Dan Heng, mid-code, lifted his fingers from the keyboard and glanced back through his lenses at the two who had just stood up.
He looked briefly at Bronya in the corner, then at Arthur, who was sitting there holding the card with a slightly dazed expression.
His brow shifted almost imperceptibly. He turned back to his own screen without a word.
Only the rhythm of his keystrokes seemed to slow by half a beat.
Stelle and March 7th had also stopped their whispering. Both of them went wide-eyed.
They looked one way, then the other, their faces practically screaming: Something's happening.
Kiana moved first. In a few quick strides she crossed to Arthur's desk, reached out her arm, and with a sharp snap, a card landed in front of him.
Its edges caught the light with a faint gold shimmer, clearly a cut above Bronya's, settling right beside it on the desk.
The abstract family crest on the card gave off a quiet, understated gleam.
"Here!" Kiana tilted her chin up and forced her voice to stay casual, even letting a little condescension creep in, though her slightly reddened ear tips told a completely different story.
"What's Bronya's card going to do for you? Buy a couple of halfway decent computers and it's gone. This one? The limit is... well, it's more than hers. Just take it. The PIN is my birthday. Don't tell me you've forgotten it."
The words came out in a rush, and when she finished she shot a pointed look at Mei, who had just walked up to the desk.
Mei's steps were unhurried. When she finally stopped, she set down a card: matte black from end to end, cool to the touch, no decoration to speak of, only a small lightning-bolt insignia pressed into one corner. It was a metal card, and it settled onto the desk with a quiet, weighted clack, the whole room feeling like it dropped a degree the moment it landed.
"Arthur." Mei's voice was as gentle as ever, but there was a quiet, unmistakable firmness underneath it that she didn't usually let show.
"The Cocolia card is convenient, but it can run into trouble on large specialty purchases and overseas payments.
This is a no-limit corporate card through the Raiden Group's partner bank, linked to my independent project reserve within the Group. The approval process is a lot more straightforward."
She paused, her violet eyes resting calmly on Arthur.
"If it's not enough, I can apply to raise the reserve ceiling, or unlock a portion of my personal investment authorization within the Group. Creative work needs a stable foundation. There's no reason to let logistics eat up your focus."
Her position was airtight: she offered a more practical option, pointed out the limitations of Kiana's card, and casually let slip that there was more where that came from, all while keeping her composure perfectly intact, giving up nothing.
Kiana's blue eyes snapped wide. "Hey! Mei! What's that supposed to mean? What's wrong with my card? We're just buying some equipment and bringing in a few people! And what do you mean 'no limit'? Like that's some big deal? I..."
"Kiana." Mei tilted her head slightly and gave her a flawless, patient smile. "I was only laying out the facts so Arthur has more options to consider. This project sounds like it could get pretty big."
"You...!"
Two cards, completely different in style but both worth a small fortune, lay side by side on the battered desk, right on top of Bronya's plain savings card. A silent standoff.
A strange tension drifted through the room, charged and almost sweet, like the air after something has already been decided but nobody's said it yet.
Stelle nudged March 7th with her elbow and murmured, "Is this what people call a wealth flex-off?"
March 7th nodded eagerly, eyes gleaming. "Total drama. This is a drama zone, right? Not the usual kind though..."
Dan Heng pushed up his glasses, gaze moving quickly between the three cards and the three girls. He quietly saved his current file, opened a new document, and typed the header: Project Emergency Funding Contingency Plan (Multi-Source) V0.1.
Over in the corner, Bronya seemed completely unaware that anything had escalated. She just adjusted her posture slightly so the monitor light fell more evenly across her face.
The hand guiding her stylus moved at a steady, unhurried pace, sketching what looked like a structural diagram for some kind of mech, its clean metallic lines already taking shape on the screen.
Only in the rare moments when she paused to think did something flash through the depths of those pale blue eyes, something quick and almost invisible, like the quiet satisfaction of a plan clicking into place.
Arthur looked down at the three cards on the desk.
One worn and well-used, carrying the trust of someone putting everything on the line.
One gleaming, backed by warmth and open-hearted confidence.
One dark and still, with reserves too deep to see the bottom of.
Three girls, completely different in personality and background, had each found their own way to show up for him in this moment.
Together, in their own distinct ways, they had tied him, and this beat-up little studio still fighting to stay afloat, back to the same moving train. Or maybe it was more accurate to say they'd pushed it onto a track with no reverse.
The road ahead was uncertain. Competition was closing in from every direction. But funding, at least for now, had stopped being the thing that was going to crush them.
Even so, accepting this money felt a hundred times heavier in his hands than any debt he'd taken on before.
Arthur drew a slow breath in, then let it out just as slowly.
He raised his head, his gaze moving across Kiana's face, puffed with irritation but quietly waiting; across Mei's eyes, calm on the surface but edged with something resolute; and finally settling on Bronya's back, still and completely absorbed in her work.
"I'm taking the money."
Arthur's voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
"It goes on the books as a studio loan, or an advance on future dividends. I'll put it in writing."
He paused, and when his gaze swept the room, it had sharpened.
"So. Here's what happens next."
"Dan Heng, I want a technical feasibility report by noon tomorrow on optimizing the core combat logic and the mobile 3D action framework in our current engine. Focus on skill chaining, hit feedback, and performance overhead."
"Stelle, March 7th, pull together everything you can find on 3D action mobile games that have made it and ones that haven't.
Pay close attention to character progression systems and how story is delivered. Run a comparative breakdown. I want your preliminary conclusions before end of day tomorrow."
His pace was steady, his thinking clean. Each directive landed with precision, stripped of the charged energy that had colored his earlier pitch, replaced by something heavier and more grounded: the quiet, settled focus of someone who has already made the hard call and is moving forward.
Everyone he'd named sat up a little straighter without thinking.
Dan Heng pushed up his glasses and started typing the header for a new document, fingers already moving.
Stelle and March 7th put away their spectator faces and quickly opened their browsers and notes.
"As for the full design draft and project roadmap," Arthur said finally, eyes dropping to the blank document in front of him, "give me twenty-four hours."
No grand promises. No more visions painted in the air. Just clear tasks and clear deadlines.
The atmosphere in the office shifted.
The despair, the numbness, the collective holding of breath that had settled over everything gave way to something more layered: pressure, a real sense of challenge, a creeping thread of excitement, and the weight of expectation made tangible by those three cards sitting on that desk. An expectation that couldn't be walked back. Couldn't be let down.
And yet something new was taking root in this cramped, run-down space. Something that could only be called possibility, stubborn and alive, growing quietly alongside the clatter of keyboards, the soft scratch of a stylus, and the occasional rustle of a turned page.
Arthur settled back into his chair and opened his computer.
On the system screen visible only to him, the progress bar ticked forward by the smallest, most tentative notch.
And deep in his mind, the images came rushing in with a clarity he had never felt before: the prologue, Nagazora City, the girls' first meetings, their first fights.
The clock had started.