At the same time.
On the outskirts of the city, nestled among a cluster of aged buildings, stood an exquisitely decorated café.
It looked utterly out of place amidst its surroundings.
Inside the café, four beautiful women sat on a sofa.
The pink-haired girl, usually so cheerful, seemed uncharacteristically subdued.
"Miss Himeko, Dan Heng just got a message from the landlord. He said the demolition is happening in a few days."
"And we still haven't found a place to stay…"
Himeko, dressed in an elegant white gown reminiscent of a wedding dress, offered a gentle smile.
"Little March, I never thought I'd see the day when even you lost your spark. It seems our situation really is dire."
Across from Himeko sat the gray-haired loli Silver Wolf and Kafka, clad in a form-fitting purple outfit.
Silver Wolf stuck the gum she'd been chewing onto her shoulder.
"A place to sleep is whatever. The real problem is the damn series!"
"We signed a contract with 'Tenghua Film & TV.' If we don't deliver a finished episode in three days, we'll face massive fines—and our acting careers are over!"
"The funniest part? We don't even have a script!"
Kafka, however, remained smiling, seemingly unaffected by the gloom.
She parted her lips slowly. "I'll handle the script. Don't worry about it."
"As for where we'll live… well, that's up to you, 'Wedding Tomato.'"
Her words carried a strange calm, and the others gradually settled.
Yet Kafka's composure never wavered.
She was good at soothing others—and even better at masking herself.
"But—!" March 7th couldn't hold back. "Kafka, I know you're planning to negotiate with Tenghua, but those big companies are all shady!"
"Remember when Dan Heng went for that audition? He almost…"
"If Yingxing hadn't shown up in time, who knows what would've happened…"
"Maybe this is all my fault." Himeko let out a bitter laugh, sipping her coffee. "I was the one who proposed this kind of web series. It was never going to fit the times."
"Even without the studios meddling, no one would write a script for a story like this. We've seen it too often these past few days."
"This is like playing Blue Star Online on hell mode." Silver Wolf groaned, flopping onto the sofa. "Everyone wants to play this game, but no one wants this life."
For a moment, silence filled the café.
——
Outside the door.
Su Chen had been standing there for a while.
In fact, he and Firefly had arrived just as the conversation inside began.
Out of sheer curiosity, he hadn't knocked right away.
Now, stroking his chin, his mind raced:
The Astral Express crew and the Stellaron Hunters are together?!
I thought it was just Kafka and Silver Wolf!
But Himeko and March 7th are here too?!
Holy hell, the gacha characters are real?!
From their tones and attitudes, their personalities matched exactly what he knew from the game.
This saves me so much effort in figuring them out. Perfect!
But…
Their situation sounded rough—just like Firefly's reaction earlier.
From what Firefly had said, they all lived together in this café.
The area was deserted, barely any customers. No wonder they'd turned it into a home.
But now it was getting demolished, and they had nowhere to go.
How are they this broke?
Then there was March's mention of a deal.
In his past life, Su Chen had been a film-focused content creator. He knew the web series production process inside out.
Generally, any series needed an approval license to air.
But with so many web series flooding the market, licenses were scarce—unless you were a major studio.
For smaller players, getting one was nearly impossible.
Su Chen rubbed his forehead.
Tenghua Film & TV?
He'd heard of them. A top-tier production house, notorious for formulaic content.
Probably, they provided the license and script, while Kafka's group handled production.
But the specifics were unclear.
Silver Wolf said they still hadn't gotten the script?
That's obviously a trap.
Yet Himeko also mentioned their series concept "didn't fit the times"?
Was the theme too unconventional?
No one could write it?
How hard is a script?
Can't they just Ctrl+C and Ctrl+V?!
"Boss?" Firefly tapped his shoulder lightly. "Aren't you going in?"
Su Chen let out a resolute "Hmm!"
He knocked twice, then pushed the door open.
Instantly, four pairs of eyes locked onto him.
Su Chen took a deep breath, steadying his pounding heart.
Even after meeting Firefly, facing these 2D-turned-3D beauties still sent his pulse racing.
Gorgeous.
Absolutely goddamn gorgeous.
"Firefly?!" Silver Wolf was the first to spot her behind Su Chen.
"Ohhh? So this is why you left early—meeting your boyfriend? Not bad-looking!"
The others studied Su Chen's gray hair and golden eyes, nodding in approval.
"W-Wait, it's not like that!" Su Chen cut off their assumptions and quickly explained everything.
...
"You're a film company owner? You hired Firefly as your secretary? And you want us as actors?"
Himeko handed him a freshly brewed coffee as she spoke.
Su Chen glanced at the cup and shuddered. "Uh, yeah!"
Kafka, unfazed, sat right beside him.
"Too bad. At least until we deliver an episode, we're technically Tenghua's people."
"If we fail, we'll belong to them permanently—plus owe a fortune in penalties."
"Let's table that for now." Su Chen leaned forward. "What kind of series are you even trying to make? How is the script the bottleneck?"
Himeko froze for a second. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you. Just… don't laugh."
"We want to film a story about the stars."
"Space travel, interstellar voyages. We'd set foot on wondrous planets, experience cultures, resolve crises, meet allies, and embark on adventures."
"It's not just a road-trip format. There's a central theme—if you already know the journey's end, would you still have the courage to retrace your steps?"
"To try and change an ending that's already been written."
As Himeko spoke, she lost herself in the utopia of her vision.
Everyone but Su Chen smiled.
This was the world they yearned for.
The reason they'd gathered here.
"Sorry." Himeko snapped back to reality after a long pause.
Noticing Su Chen's furrowed brow, she sighed.
She'd seen this too many times. Most scriptwriters cursed her out on the spot.
At least he was polite.
"It's ridiculous, right? Space operas are money pits, and with a grand theme like this, the budget would be insane."
"No one would burn everything for an impossible dream."
Her smile turned bitter, already anticipating his response.
But then—
Su Chen said:
"What if… I told you I already have a script that fits?"