CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Bringing Aarde to Earth

  “Holy fuck,” whistled a woman with long, wavy hair and snow-white skin. “I love how these numbers keep going up every second.”

  Even as she spoke, the rise of the trailer’s viewership went up by ten on the TV screen.

  “There it goes again,” she said.

  It had been only twenty minutes since the launch, a minute since the management team walked into Chris’ office, and the climb didn’t seem to be slowing down.

  “Do you know what these numbers mean, Jiho?” asked the tan-skinned man leaning against the edge of Chris’ mahogany table.

  Jiho’s slanted-eyed gaze narrowed just a little. “Knowing you, Juan, it’s something stupid like making money.”

  Juan, a man with short but scruffy salt-and-pepper hair to go with his handlebar mustache, stood up from his spot.

  “Well, yes,” he answered. “As Head of Monetization, it’s my job to think about how we can leverage these numbers into making money.”

  “Plus, you just like money,” Bridget cut in.

  She was relaxing on the plushy brown couch in front of the tall glass window that dominated one side of the corner office, the one that had a clear view of Main Street Park. She had a glass of wine in her hand, what she called her victory drink.

  Bridget raised her glass in Juan’s direction. “Money’s all that matters to you.”

  “Well, yes.” Juan shrugged. “I’m the corporate sleazebag who dips my hand in the money jar you creatives refuse to taint your fingers with.”

  He turned his cool gaze on Jiho next.

  “You’re corporate too,” he pointed out, “but you don’t see what I’m seeing because you marketing guys only know how to spend money.”

  Jiho bristled at the accusation.

  At only five-six in height, Jiho was much smaller compared to the lanky Juan, but Trickster Studio’s new marketing director didn’t back down from a man she called, “A money-grubbing, soulless, asshat.”

  “We’ve established this.” Juan smiled impishly at her. “But I do appreciate the compliment.”

  As he watched them bicker from his spot next to Chris sitting in his ergonomic chair, Hajime couldn’t help but sigh heavily. Their bickering wasn’t unexpected though. They’d been like cats and dogs since he, Juan Dela Cruz, and Jiho Jung had started out at Nyantendo fifteen years ago.

  Hajime leaned over to whisper in Chris’ ear. “Why did we hire them again?”

  “Because Juan did great work making NightFort profitable after the gaming bubble burst of twenty-seven, while Jiho’s an industry expert in making indie games a hit.” Chris leaned back against his chair. “They’re also good at doing the kind of corporate grind that you and Bridget don’t wanna touch.”

  “Juan likes loot crates,” Hajime pointed out.

  “And if he goes overboard, I told him you’ll murder him,” Chris chuckled. “Assuming you can get him back to Aarde.”

  Juan turned to face Chris and Hajime. “Never going to happen.”

  He raised a finger.

  “One day in weird fantasy Europe without Wi-Fi convinced me that I will never leave Earth again,” he said, adding, “Your cowboy hat looks ridiculous by the way.”

  Over Chris’ straw-brown locks was an exact replica of the hat he’d had made at a tailor’s in Bastille’s Hightown district. It was the wide brim sort that a cow wrangler might wear.

  “I usually hate Juan’s opinions as much as Jiho does, but he has a point about the hat,” Bridget weighed in.

  She took another sip of her wine.

  “Is this the original hat that inspired the one from Aarde?” Bridget asked.

  With Hajime adding, “Or is the Aarde one the original and this one’s the copy?”

  Chris grinned.

  “The second one.”

  He took off his wide brimmed hat so he could show his team the markings that lined the rim.

  “Are those…” Bridget began, to which Hajime finished, “…sigils?”

  Sigils of protection like the ones that formed the arcane array that enchanted Chris’ other hat were stitched into the fabric of this one using gold thread to give them the lustrous sheen that mimicked the glow of an enchantment.

  “I’ve got a lot of hats,” Chris admitted, “but this one — I mean, the other one — that’s become my favorite.”

  “So, you made a replica of it on Earth?” Juan assumed.

  Chris nodded.

  The tan-skinned, mustachioed money man raised a thin eyebrow at the Texan. “You realize you’re cosplaying as the other you?”

  “I know.” Chris shrugged. “But I’m not the only one.”

  His blue-eyed gaze was fixed on Bridget’s clothes.

  Bridget wore a red summer dress with a flower pattern. It had a single slit running up its side, exposing her shapely leg and the knee-high boots she wore. This was the typical New Yorker fashion in August, so it didn’t look out of place, until one noticed the knife holster around her thigh. It wasn’t anything big like a Bowie knife, but the tapered blade of the stiletto in its holster looked very prickly.

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  “Got a permit for that?” Chris asked.

  “The blade’s less than four inches, so it’s legal as long as I don’t have any intention to use it for anything other than self-defense.” Despite her reasoning, Bridget was quick to pull the slit of her dress close. “Honestly, it just felt natural to have one on me…”

  Jiho took the plush seat next to Bridget’s. “I think it’s badass.”

  The two women high-fived each other.

  Meanwhile, Chris and Hajime exchanged a look.

  Unsurprisingly, they both understood what Bridget meant.

  Hajime glanced down at his own attire—the bright blue hoodie and slacks that were a size too big for him—and he realized he was trying to casually imitate the robe he usually wore on Aarde without having to wear an actual robe and looking like a weirdo on the subway.

  He reached into his hoodie’s front pocket and pulled out the lighter he’d recently bought. It was long and thin and heavy, but it looked like a magician’s wand.

  Unease filled the O.G. trio’s expressions.

  The three of them in casual clothes seemed suddenly abnormal, as if their minds had become far too used to wearing armor and carrying weapons. In comparison, Juan in his custom-tailored three-piece suit and Jiho in her ripped jeans and brightly printed shirt that had the words ‘Straw-Cap Buccaneers’ scrawled on it seemed like they were out of place in this studio that was basically a gateway to another world.

  “Okay, I’m calling it. We’ve clearly got a problem here. Being on Aarde’s addictive and we’re all addicts to its wonders,” Chris deduced.

  “Isn’t that what we want to happen?” Bridget asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Chris conceded. “So, y’all think us cosplaying like this isn’t a problem?”

  “So long as it isn’t on the level of a gaming disorder, I’m sure we can manage,” Bridget answered.

  “And it’s not like we can stop visiting Aarde. It’s half of our lives now,” Hajime pointed out.

  “I disagree,” Juan cut in, “Carrying weapons around and looking like cosplayers at a fantasy con is definitely a problem — but one we can exploit.”

  Jiho tried to kick him from where she sat, but the willowy Juan deftly dodged her attack.

  “Hear me out.” Juan raised both hands up, not in a gesture of surrender, but more like he was laying it out for them. “This is what my monetization meeting’s about — opportunities like the Aarde fashion trend.”

  A moment of silence…

  “Okay,” Chris put his hat back on, “I’ll say it, that sounds mighty interesting.”

  No one disagreed. Not even Jiho.

  Bridget smiled sheepishly. “I may have gone overboard with the knife though…”

  “Me too,” Hajime agreed.

  With a flourishing of his wand, he clicked the switch at its base, and a small flame spouted out of its tip.

  “Not exactly a Ray of Fire, is it?” Chris chuckled.

  “God, we’re such nerds,” Bridget chimed in.

  “Yeah, you are,” Juan cut in again. “But this fashion plan can’t just be for nerds. Everyone’s gotta buy into the idea.”

  He picked up the tablet lying on Chris’ desk and used it to manipulate the screen on the wall opposite. Gone was the real-time analytics data for the game’s announcement trailer. In its place was a PowerPoint presentation detailing a year-long plan to introduce Aarder fashion to Earthers. Included in Juan’s slides were sketches of clothing inspired by the gambeson worn by the soldiers of Bram’s household as well as the long flowing dresses worn by the highborn ladies of Bastille’s court. There were even sketches that incorporated armor pieces like a breastplate or pauldrons to outerwear like jackets and coats.

  “This is how we make a profit using the other world,” Juan insisted.

  He glanced conspiratorially at Jiho.

  “I’ve even added a budget for promotional material, celebrity influencers, brand partnerships, all the money-eating sand pits you like throwing cash into,” he said teasingly.

  Jiho didn’t take the bait though. From the look on her face, she couldn’t help admiring the thought-out plan laid before them. It was a while later, after a heavy sigh, when she finally replied, “I hate it when he has a good idea.”

  “Ditto,” Bridget agreed.

  “You think I have only one good idea?” Juan laughed maniacally.

  After a few clicks on his tablet, a new presentation flashed on screen, one that detailed a year-long plan to introduce Aarde cuisine to Earth. Including Bram’s favorite rouladen dish which had a distinctly different taste from the one of Earth.

  “It doesn’t end there.”

  Juan breezed through three more presentations, each one showing how Aarde’s influence could grow on Earth by taking over the things that people enjoy such as books and movies.

  “I’ve got Brad Saunderson on speed dial. He’ll be ready to bring Aarde to life with the written word as soon as we give him the go ahead,” Juan boasted.

  One particular slide that caused Hajime’s mouth to drop was about a theme park that showed a replica of Bram’s bastion at the heart of what Juan dubbed “Aarde Land.”

  “C-Can we really do this…?” he couldn’t help asking.

  Juan chuckled. “We can do anything.”

  Another tap on his tablet and a puffy cartoon caricature of Bram appeared on screen — Aarde Land’s eventual mascot.

  “I only met him once, but I knew right away that Bram was a savvy kid. Annoyingly self-righteous, but smart, especially with business.” Juan tapped the side of his head with a finger. “He sees the potential that you’re not seeing because you’re all too fascinated about getting isekai’d to another world.”

  His gaze focused on the faces of each member of the management team, all of whom had instinctively taken seats and were paying close attention to his lectures despite their obvious disdain for him.

  “But not me. I see what Bram sees. I see the profit he hopes to make from getting Earth’s knowledge, our resources, our manpower, our innovations.” Juan raised a finger up. “But why should Aarde be the only one to benefit from this cultural exchange?”

  As if to emphasis his point, his one finger became two.

  “Why can’t it be a two-way street?”

  With a gaze that looked almost fanatical, Juan raised his arms wide.

  “If we can bring Earth to Aarde, why can’t we bring Aarde to Earth?”

  He moved his arms as if he would embrace everything he could see before him until his hands clasped each other by his chest.

  “And we would be the custodians of this great change. We would usher in…a new world order.”

  Silence.

  The seconds ticked by while Juan waited for their response.

  Until finally, Jiho said, “You just want to make money out of this.”

  Juan unfroze.

  “Of course I want to make money from all this,” he answered. “We’ve already established that I’m here to make us money.”

  The others chuckled.

  He sounded sincere in his passion for a proper cultural exchange—a new world order, as he called it—that others who saw his presentations might’ve thought him an idealist. But the management team knew better. Juan Dela Cruz was driven by one thing, the desire to make money.

  “Almost had me,” Chris chuckled as he rose from his seat. “No, I really thought you might be a more passionate guy than I gave you credit, Juan.”

  “I am passionate.” Juan crossed his arms. “For money.”

  “Yeah, yeah, we get it.” Chris shook his head. “Honestly, I was expecting something different. I thought this meeting was going to be a plan for advertisers and product placement.”

  “That’s the next one,” Juan answered.

  On the screen was a new title, Aarde, a New Market for Earth-based Products.

  Juan’s ideas for monetizing the Loom continued well into the night, but once he’d finished getting the others interested in his money-making schemes, the meeting moved on to more important matters. At least according to Bridget.

  Before she logged out of the game earlier, Bridget had received a message from Rowan detailing the details of the prince’s meetings with the high cleric of Phoebus’ temple.

  “So, Bram’s wants to get the Mighty Greenwood Gang involved,” Hajime recapped.

  “And he’s going to hire a mercenary company too,” Jiho added.

  “Add to that my fellow soldiers in the guard,” Chris weighed in.

  “Sounds like a big production,” Juan noted. “Good luck not dying in the land of blood.”

  “You’re really not joining the party?” Hajime asked.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d asked this question. As the original isekai’d Earther, he couldn’t understand why anyone, even a money fiend like Juan, wouldn’t want to experience the adventures of Aarde.

  “I prefer watching heroes on TV. Not be a hero myself,” Juan insisted.

  “You’ll be alone here then,” Bridget cut in.

  With one final sip of her third glass of wine, the Loom’s lead narrative designer explained that Bram planned to involve the players in the expedition.

  “With restrictions?” Hajime assumed.

  Bridget nodded. “Level three. Same level we were in when we went to the Red Ruin.”

  “Based on tonight’s analysis of player data, it’ll take three weeks for the majority of the hundred alpha testers to reach that level,” Jiho said.

  “They’ll have the time. We have to prepare properly. It’s our first big event,” Bridget answered.

  Her brow creased.

  “Which wasn’t in the original planned first scenario,” she added, sounding a little annoyed.

  Hajime couldn’t blame her. She’d worked so hard on the Red Ruin’s promotion after all. Even suffering through the tantrum of her star actor just to get the scene finished in time for the announcement trailer.

  “Things never go the way we want it to,” Chris shrugged, “but we’ve learned to adapt to worse things, haven’t we?”

  Bridget took the tablet from Juan. “From what I’ve heard of our destination, worse things might be on the horizon…”

  With the press of the button, a new word appeared on screen, one that caused a strange shiver to climb up their collective spines.

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