Enix's Predicament

A week passed.

Tokyo, Shinjuku Ward.

The streets here were forever crowded, office workers in suits and leather shoes mixed together with young people dressed in bizarre clothes, forming this city's unique ecosystem.

Enix Corporation's headquarters was located in an office building here.

There were no exaggerated giant signboards, nor game posters blotting out the sky and covering the earth. The whole building exuded the steadiness of a traditional publishing company.

Nakayama Takuya stepped out of the car.

He had not brought any attendants today, and walked into the building alone.

The front desk clerk checked the appointment list, then respectfully guided him to a private elevator.

A fixed perception had long circulated in the industry.

Since the Famicom era, Enix had been firmly tied to Nintendo's war chariot, and the Dragon Quest series was the sea-calming divine needle of Nintendo hardware sales.

In this company's résumé, there had never been any record of releasing a game on a Sega console.

The outside world took it for granted that even if there was no irreconcilable contradiction between Enix and Sega, there would at least be many places where they rubbed each other the wrong way.

This kind of either-black-or-white camp-choosing logic seemed far too childish in a mature commercial society.

There was no natural hatred between companies, only considerations of how interests were distributed.

The camp confrontations that truly fought until you died and I lived existed only between hardware platform holders like Sega, Nintendo, and Sony.

For third-party software companies, their essence was the pursuit of profit.

Where there was enough installed base, where there was a more generous royalty policy, and where there was a hardware environment more suited to their own development, they would lean that way.

The elevator arrived at the upper floor. The metal doors