------------------
HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
------------------
Chapter 53: Production halted?
Within the subspace where Jung Junhyuk resided, only works that did not exist in his world were gathered.
By what criteria these works were chosen—popularity, sales figures, or something else—he could never figure out, even after spending so much time there. But one thing was certain: any work that had existed in Junhyuk's world was nowhere to be found.
The same applied to works that had once existed but had never been released or seen the light of day.
Shoot'n'Gate.
Had things gone as they originally had, it would have been a tragic, ill-fated title—buried under misfortune and setbacks, never to be released into the world.
＊ ＊ ＊
“A game, you say?”
I don’t really know much about games. Sure, I worked as an editor, so I might be more familiar than the average person just by exposure.
Back when I was still working as an editor, I used to recommend popular game character designs to authors as reference material.
But even so, what I know barely goes beyond the basics expected of someone in the industry.
When it comes to things like game mechanics or scenario structure and planning—I practically know nothing.
And from the sound of it…
- I know it’s a lot to ask, but… is there any way you could help…?
…it sounded like the project was already in a pretty rough spot.
What could a total novice like me possibly contribute in a situation like that?
Still, it was hard to flat-out reject Sanae’s request, especially after everything she’s done for me.
- If a phone meeting is all you need for now, I’m willing to at least hear you out.
“Thank you so much!!”
With a booming thank-you, Sanae hung up.
“So… when’s the meeting?”
But Sanae had already ended the call, leaving that question unanswered.
＊ ＊ ＊
Fortunately, Sanae messaged me not long after and shared the meeting schedule.
Since it was just going to be a phone meeting, I didn’t feel much pressure. I simply waited for the call to come through at the scheduled time.
“Hello?”
- Pleased to meet you, Enju-sensei. I’m Hanasaka, the main scenario writer for Shoot'n'Gate.”
“Nice to meet you, this is Enju.”
From what I’d heard, Hanasaka was Sanae’s senior back in school, and also a seasoned industry veteran who had helped out a lot during the early days of Field Scroll.
After a bit of polite small talk—things like “I’ve heard a lot about you from Sanae”—we quickly got down to business.
“This material hasn’t been made public yet, but the main scenario framework is complete.”
As I listened to Hanasaka’s explanation, I opened the file that had been sent to me in advance.
“I’ll take a moment to read through it.”
Though they said only the framework was done, the flow of the story and the setup of key plot devices seemed more fleshed out than expected.
Before I realized it, I was fully immersed in the neatly organized text, reading deeper and deeper into the narrative.
And then—
I forgot all about staying objective. Without meaning to, I let a raw reaction slip out of my mouth.
“It’s really good…”
It wasn’t polite filler or a compliment I forced out—it just came out naturally. Hearing that, Hanasaka quietly expressed their gratitude.
- Thank you.
It wasn’t just good. It was really good.
Sure, time travel stories aren’t exactly rare in fiction. But the clearly defined limitations of the time machine, and the detailed psychological portrayal of the protagonist each time they jumped to the past—those stood out as exceptional.
Even the concept of sending emails to the past to change the present was handled in a clever, engaging way.
Of course, since the full scenario hadn’t been written yet, I couldn’t give a complete assessment. Still, there was no denying this story had real potential.
“I honestly think the concept is solid. You could probably go ahead with it as is. So why are you asking me to get involved in the project?”
- Well… the thing is, the main publisher—the production company, basically the investor—their financial situation suddenly tanked, and they pulled their funding…
“Ah…”
I let out a sigh without realizing it.
I might not know much about the ins and outs of game development, but I at least understand how production flows work.
From what I could guess, Shoot'n'Gate was no small-scale indie project. It must’ve had significant outside investment.
And if one of those investors—probably someone covering over 50% of the budget—suddenly pulls out, then of course the whole production grinds to a halt.
- With the production status now up in the air… the co-developer’s asked to withdraw too. And just today, even the publisher…
“What?!”
That came out almost like a scream. I was just barely able to keep myself from swearing.
“What the fuck.”
Never mind, I swore.
The co-developer might not have invested as much cash, but they contributed development staff and resources.
The publisher, meanwhile, typically supports transmedia efforts—like turning the game into an anime, a novel, or a manga.
So if investors like that are pulling out one after another…
“This is the production shutdown route…”
There was no turning back. This was the standard death spiral that led to a project being canned.
I’d heard there were countless projects that vanished without a trace—even from big-name studios—because of sudden investment issues like this.
Maybe that’s why I’d never heard of Shoot'n'Gate before.
- I’m sorry, Enju-sensei. We asked you to help while we were still holding onto a little hope, but things just started collapsing all at once…
“…No, it’s okay.”
Hanasaka sounded even more worn out now, and I felt a twinge of sympathy.
- We’ll likely have to downscale the project a lot before it can be released. But even with everything going on… I really hope you’ll consider joining as a scenario writer. Our support writer—um, they’ve decided to leave the project…
I didn’t know if they left because of creative differences or money problems. Either way, it didn’t sound like it was on good terms.
“Well… thank you for the offer. I’m not really in a position to answer right this second, but would it be okay if I got back to you?”
- Of course. I’ll be waiting for your reply.
Once the call ended, the sigh I’d been holding back came rushing out of me.
“What am I supposed to do…”
The monitor still showed the script, its vivid story still fresh in my mind.
“If it weren’t THIS good, the decision would’ve been so much easier…”
＊ ＊ ＊
“Haa…”
Jung Junhyuk let out a soft sigh in his classroom.
“Haa…”
Jung Junhyuk let out a soft sigh in the gym.
“Haa…”
Jung Junhyuk let out a soft sigh at his usual lunch spot in the old school building—
“Okay, that’s enough!”
Chop–Chop—
Finally losing her patience with Junhyuk’s never-ending sigh barrage, Kanna gave him a light smack on the back of the neck to shut it down.
“You’re draining the life out of everyone around you.”
“Well, Kanna, you’ve been trying to slim down, so maybe I’m helping—”
“What was that?”
“Nothing at all…”
Seeing Kanna clench her fist, Junhyuk immediately backed down with his tail between his legs.
Kanna shot him a death glare but then quietly sat back down, trying to hold in her bubbling irritation.
By now, it had been nearly two years since she’d started hanging around with Jung Junhyuk. She was finally getting a sense of how to handle him.
In times like these, there was no need to waste energy snapping at him.
“Ugh, I’m just so curious. Wish someone would tell me~”
She pulled out an innocent “Huh? That’s so weird~” delivery worthy of a glasses-wearing grade schooler.
A top-tier performance in naïve curiosity—and Junhyuk fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
“Keh… Curious, are you? Then I shall tell you. Listen carefully—and don’t you dare tell anyone.”
“……”
Kanna felt like just listening to Junhyuk was dragging her own IQ down a few points. Still, she brushed the feeling aside and paid attention to what he had to say.
After hearing the full story, she tilted her head in mild confusion.
"Isn’t this just something you want to do?"
At that, Junhyuk shook his head firmly.
"Just wanting to do it isn’t enough. The project isn’t some small thing that can be downsized and still survive. Even if we scale back, it’s way too uncertain whether the production can even continue."
"So what, you’re scared to do it 'cause of the funding?"
"Huh…?"
Kanna’s words were dangerously close to calling him a coward—Junhyuk’s eyes widened in shock.
Of course, Kanna had no such malicious intent.
"If it’s not that, then what is it? The company’s taking on the financial risk anyway. All you have to do is help with production. You DO want to work on it, right? You liked the script."
"Yeah, but… it’s not like I have any guarantee it’ll succeed."
"And when have you ever had a guarantee things would go well?"
Junhyuk was momentarily speechless in the face of her pure, no-nonsense logic.
"Have you ever KNOWN for sure your projects would be hits?"
"Well…"
…To an extent, yeah.
Whether it was a dream or some strange reality, the projects Junhyuk had recreated so far were—if real—works that deserved to succeed.
But to say he had absolute certainty? Not quite.
No ordinary person could remember every scene of a work perfectly. The things he brought to life were pieced together from memory—and just because he tried his best didn’t mean they were guaranteed to succeed.
He’d been anxious every single time he released something. That alone said enough.
"Then there’s no reason to hesitate."
Kanna grinned playfully, and Junhyuk stared blankly at her for a moment—then reached out and pulled on both of her cheeks.
"Whaha he hyu hoin!!"
Kanna swatted his hands away and rubbed her pinched face, glaring at him.
"You’ve gotten all grown-up over summer break, huh."
"I had an overseas shoot! I’m practically a top star now!"
"And now you’re shameless too… What kind of no-good bastard rubbed off on you?"
Kanna gave him a deadpan look, as if to say ‘You seriously don’t see the irony right now?’
"Anyway, thanks. You helped me sort out my thoughts. I gotta run."
"Good, you should be thanking—wait, what?"
"Tell them I’m leaving early today."
"Hold up, hey—!"
＊ ＊ ＊
Having urgently made a call and set up the meeting, Jung Junhyuk now sat across from Hanasaka—the same Hanasaka he’d spoken to on the phone not long ago.
He gave a brief, polite nod to Hanasaka, who was seated at a table in an open, airy cafe.
“Sorry for calling you out on such short notice.”
“Ah, no, it’s fine…”
Hanasaka blinked rapidly, visibly flustered by just how sudden this meeting had been.
“I kept thinking about Shoot'n'Gate, and I felt like I had to speak up sooner rather than later.”
At Junhyuk’s words, Hanasaka immediately straightened up, attentive.
Is he going to turn it down?
No… If he was going to reject it, he wouldn’t have come all the way here, right?
So maybe… I can hope?
As Hanasaka’s brain whirred through a hundred different scenarios, Junhyuk hit her with something completely unexpected.
“How about we don’t scale down Shoot'n'Gate at all? Let’s go full steam ahead.”
“…Sorry?”
“What if we try crowdfunding? We can pitch it with the tagline: ‘Created by Wakayama Jun and Enju.’”
“W-Wait a second, sir. What are you…”
Hanasaka was overwhelmed, struggling to process the sudden flood of Junhyuk’s words.
“So… you're saying you'll join the production? If so, thank you—seriously, thank you. But honestly, we don’t have the budget to bring in someone like Wakayama Jun.”
Right now, they could barely cover production costs. The idea of hiring big external talent? Impossible.
But then Junhyuk smiled and said—
“That’s okay. Because I’m Wakayama Jun.”
“…What?”
“I want to make Shoot'n'Gate into something big.”
------------------
HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
------------------
