"Oh, no, no, I mean... if we make it multiplayer, it'll be easier."

Kang-sik's sudden comment left me tilting my head in confusion.

"Wait, this game can be played multiplayer?"

As much as Kang-sik was a genius developer, was he really capable of setting up a dedicated server for online play already?

"No, no, not that kind of multiplayer."

Kang-sik clarified as he casually sat down next to me, placing his hands on the keyboard.

"Like this—playing together like this."

So the "multiplayer" he was talking about referred to local co-op, with Player 1 and Player 2? Surprisingly, the key bindings were already perfectly configured. There wasn’t a single overlap between Kang-sik's controls and mine.

"The camera perspective is locked to the main character—that is, Ari," he explained.

As he spoke, the character Kang-sik controlled appeared on the screen: a tiny, cute bee standing next to the little chick.

It was drawn like a mascot, which made it adorable, but the limitations of being a solo-developed game were evident in its somewhat rough appearance.

"Mm-hmm! If it’s the two of us, we can definitely clear this stage!"

Oh, by the way, that bee's name is Bibi.

After that comment from Kang-sik:

Peep peep.

Bzzzz.

The small, cute, and feisty little chick and the bee stood before a towering giant.

"This feels like it’s about to mess with my sense of reality."

The characters looked straight out of a children’s cartoon for seven-year-olds, yet the monster they faced bore a striking resemblance to the massive war machines from Yu-Gi-Oh.

"Let’s do this!"

"Uh... okay."

Caught up in Kang-sik’s enthusiasm, I hesitantly moved my character.

Thud!

The giant's stomping attack came in the same pattern as before. Normally, it would’ve been incredibly fast, but—

Bzzzzz!

When Kang-sik used Bibi to poke the underside of the giant’s foot—

Groooaaar!

The sound of the monster’s agony filled the screen, and its speed slowed significantly.

"This is how it works—Ari, the chick, plays the main character role, while Bibi supports!"

As we continued playing:

ROOOOAR!

Thud!

We died again.

"This game is brutally unforgiving."

It wasn’t just "difficult"—it went far beyond that. And the real kicker? This was the tutorial boss.

A monster meant to gently introduce new players to the game mechanics was obliterating beginners right from the start.

Sensing my doubtful gaze, Kang-sik gave me a look that said, Let me show you something cool.

"You said it’s multiplayer, right? Well, there’s actually a third character."

"A third one?"

"Yep! It’s super simple to control, so even someone bad at games can play it."

Click-click.

Kang-sik manipulated the keyboard, and a new character popped onto the screen next to Ari and Bibi. This time, it was a goldfish.

A yellow chick, a yellow bee, and now a yellow goldfish.

"Did he choose the goldfish just to stick with the yellow theme?" I wondered.

"This one’s name is Ggold-bung-i."

"...Ggoldbungbung?"

"Huh?"

"Ah, nothing. It just sounded fun to say."

The game restarted. This time, Kang-sik controlled both Bibi and Ggold-bung-i simultaneously. At this point, almost every key on the keyboard was being used.

"Is this what you meant by multiplayer?"

I started to feel an ominous sense of foreboding. First games often involved a lot of experimentation, but this…

"Seriously, though, this game is just way too hard."

Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to criticize him outright. After all, I knew how amazing Kang-sik would become in the future.

"It’s still a work in progress, so this is as far as I’ve been able to implement."

Despite saying that, Kang-sik adeptly controlled both Bibi and Ggold-bung-i, even as I continued to struggle with Ari, the main character. No matter how skilled the support characters were, the limitations quickly became evident.

YOU DIE.

For the third time, the all-too-familiar message filled the screen.

"Shouldn’t it at least say 'YOU DIED' properly?"

"Oh, that’s just a placeholder. I’m planning to make it a bit more... Korean later."

"Ah, I see..."

Seeing that message three times in a row triggered something in me. A stubborn desire to clear the game started to grow.

"Wait... this is clearable, right?"

"Uh... yeah, but only if I play."

"Wait, what?"

Before I could ask what he meant, Kang-sik restarted the game and selected Ari, the main character, for himself.

"Just hold on. Let me show you how it’s done."

Since it was still in its early stages, Kang-sik explained, the difficulty setting was a bit higher than intended. And with that, he began demonstrating.

"Wait, is he... controlling three characters at once?"

Using WASD for Ari’s movements, he constantly adjusted with the mouse whenever he didn’t need to control the camera. Meanwhile, he utilized the arrow keys and number pad to manage Bibi and Ggold-bung-i.

"This way, I can time Ari’s attacks with the exact moment I slow down the enemy."

Although he was controlling three characters by himself, they moved in perfect harmony as if they were one.

As he attacked with Ari while supporting with Bibi and Ggold-bung-i:

ROOOOAR!

The giant finally fell.

"Of course, this boss wasn’t designed to be defeated. It’s more of a story progression thing."

"Then why make it defeatable?"

"Well... in case someone manages to beat it, they’ll feel amazing."

As Kang-sik excitedly talked about the game’s design direction, I couldn’t help but marvel.

"This kid made a devilishly hard game."

How could someone who looked so innocent create something so downright cruel in difficulty?

Time flew by, and soon it was mid-October.

The crisp autumn atmosphere was in full swing, and the filming of The Traitor: Roots of Corruption was underway.

"Group filming? Like, a retreat?"

"Yep, that’s what they’re planning."

"And Yu Seong-senpai and I are excluded?"

"Yeah, because of your characters’ rivalry. They think it’s better if you don’t interact beforehand."

Given the intense oppositions in the storyline, it made sense. They were fostering stronger bonds between the protagonists while keeping the antagonists separate to maintain authenticity.

"I see... that’s some thorough planning," I muttered, impressed.

"By the way, Donghu, are you good at foreign languages?" Seokho-hyung suddenly asked out of the blue.

"Foreign languages?"

"Yeah, like English or Japanese."

English and Japanese, huh?

"Well, as it happens, I know both."

It wasn’t just a claim—I really could. Thanks to an earlier experiment, I had tested the extent of my abilities.

"Enough for daily conversation, I guess?"

That alone was impressive. I could understand anime without subtitles and even live comfortably in those countries without linguistic challenges.

"What? Seriously? This... this is about the movie. You know how the contract includes overseas distribution, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

As soon as he said that, it clicked. One of the ratings for The Traitor: Roots of Corruption was likely for international distribution.

"And they’re wondering if you can handle the dubbing."

"Dubbing?"

"Yeah. They’re asking if you’d be able to do it."

Although dubbing wasn’t easy, the idea intrigued me.

"Sure, I can do it."

"Really? Then I’ll tell them you’re in!"

"By the way, where’s the dubbing for?"

"Oh, Japan. They’re targeting that market."

With Seokho-hyung’s excitement, I couldn’t help but feel energized.

Later, my phone buzzed with a future message:

"Kim Donghu, praised for his exceptional Japanese skills, ignites a buzz in Japan! 'Could anime dubbing be next?' A whirlwind of speculation!"

"Anime dubbing? Me? No way... or maybe?"