Ortigas, Metro Manila – Espector Studios HQ
James Pascual stood near the glass window of his new office, watching the busy traffic snake through Ortigas. Towering buildings surrounded them, but inside Espector Studios, it was quiet—for now. Behind him, his team was hard at work finalizing patches for Furious Birds while another group ran tests for their next unannounced title. But none of that was on James's mind this morning.
Today was different.
A white-and-blue van with the logo of a major news network was parked downstairs, its engine idling. It had arrived fifteen minutes early. Just like they said they would.
"Sir," Sam called from behind his desk, holding out a thermos. "You might want to bring this. You always get jittery without caffeine."
James chuckled and took the coffee. "Thanks. You should've come with me, actually. Might need moral support."
"I would," Sam replied, grinning, "but someone's got to make sure the servers don't crash when traffic spikes after your interview."
Yuri looked up from her laptop across the room. "Don't overthink it," she said flatly. "You've already faced worse. This is just talking."
James offered a faint smile. "Right. Just talking on national TV."
It still felt strange sometimes—being James Pascual. A name that once belonged to a struggling game dev with shattered dreams, an overdue rent notice, and his girlfriend leaving him for another rich man. That James had burned out trying to make it. He had the skill, the passion even, but life crushed him.
Then came the impossible. Thomas Anderson, a man who used to lead game projects in his past life, had awoken in James's body. No warnings. No system interface. No godly guide.
Just him, a creaky PC, and the half-coded skeleton of a game called FlapFlap Hero.
Now, the studio he rebuilt was sitting at over 100 million downloads globally across all titles, with Furious Birds topping the charts in 27 countries.
The ride had been anything but easy.
The van was spacious, clean, and cool inside. The driver, a middle-aged man with a barong and media pass clipped to his shirt, gave a nod as James entered.
"Mr. Pascual, right? Welcome. We'll be at the station in twenty minutes. Traffic's light."
"Appreciate it," James said, settling into the seat and glancing at the tinted windows.
Manila's chaos zipped by—vendors on sidewalks, a kid chasing a plastic bottle, jeepneys crammed with passengers, and the endless symphony of horns. Despite everything, it was comforting. Familiar.
James leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
It still felt surreal, being recognized, being invited to talk about his work, his vision. Back then, nobody would've even read his email pitches. Now? Now they wanted to put his face on air.
He opened his eyes again, staring at the passing buildings.
I'm doing this for both of us, James. I won't waste what you left behind.
The news station's compound was larger than he expected, with tight security and multiple buildings. A staff member in a headset greeted him as soon as the van stopped.
"Mr. Pascual? Hi! I'm Lianne from guest coordination. Please follow me."
She led him through a maze of hallways—bright fluorescent lights, glass walls, rushing crew with clipboards and scripts. They passed by a studio mid-shoot, with a host talking animatedly to the camera.
They finally arrived at a small prep room filled with makeup equipment, lights, and a monitor displaying the current live feed.
"You'll go on in about twenty minutes," Lianne explained. "Our anchor will brief you before the segment. Just relax. Want some water or anything?"
James shook his head. "I'm good."
Left alone, he sat on the couch and checked his phone. Messages from Sam and Yuri flooded in.
"Don't mess this up." – Yuri
"Rooting for you! Just pretend she's an NPC with a dialogue tree." – Sam
He smiled. Classic Sam.
A few minutes later, the door opened again.
"Mr. Pascual?" A voice called.
It was her. The anchor.
Dressed in a simple blazer with a warm expression, she extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Clara Reyes. I'll be interviewing you today."
James stood and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"I've been following your studio's rise," she said. "FlapFlap Hero was a hit in our office. I think our editor still plays it during breaks."
James laughed softly. "I'd say we owe a lot to bored office workers."
"Mind if I ask you a few off-camera warmups?"
"Sure."
They talked about his earliest inspirations, the surprise success of Furious Birds, and how Espector Studios managed to stay independent. James answered carefully but honestly, avoiding anything too personal—until she asked:
"What pushed you to keep going back then? Starting a studio out of nowhere?"
James paused. He gave a polite smile, but his mind drifted.
He saw a dark apartment. A cold night. The moment he woke up in a broken man's body.
"It was a second chance," he said quietly. "Not many people get those."
When the cameras went live, Clara's tone shifted into show mode, but she remained respectful.
"Good afternoon, Philippines! Today, we're joined by the man behind two of the most downloaded mobile games in Southeast Asia—James Pascual of Espector Studios!"
"Thanks for having me," James said, seated on a high chair, mic clipped to his collar.
They ran through his journey. The apartment in Quezon City The long nights of debugging. His decision not to sign with publishers. His surprise when FlapFlap Hero hit 10 million downloads in just months.
But toward the end, Clara leaned in.
"Now, James, some say your story feels… too perfect. That someone from nowhere suddenly rises to dominate the charts. Is there something you'd like to share with the audience? About who you really are?"
James hesitated.
Then, without breaking eye contact with the camera, he said:
"You never know what will hit you in life, so my take is that you do what you always love to do and you will succeed eventually. As they say, try and try until you succeed, which I am now."
There was a silence that lingered just long enough to feel heavy—before Clara gently nodded and continued.
"That's powerful. And I think a lot of struggling creatives needed to hear that."
Back at Espector Studios, the team gathered in the lounge, watching it live on the TV mounted to the wall.
"Damn," Sam muttered. "He actually said it."
Yuri crossed her arms. "Good. It's the truth."
When James returned that afternoon, the entire team clapped as he stepped into the main floor. Someone even brought out a tiny cake with "You Survived TV!" scribbled in icing.
James rolled his eyes but laughed anyway. "Alright, alright. Back to work, you clowns."
Sam raised his phone. "Wait, the comments section is blowing up."
Yuri added, "So are the downloads. Check analytics."
James pulled out his phone.
Furious Birds had surged past its previous peak. FlapFlap Hero was climbing again.
Then—Yuri received an email.
"I just received an important email…"