118. Determination

“...In that case, I have some other work to attend to, so I shall take my leave.” Following their conversation, Taihei Doma bid Jiang He farewell. The latter nodded, signaling his understanding.

After Taihei Doma left, Jiang He watched the sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows dim into twilight. He rubbed his temples and let out a weary sigh, muttering to himself, “You’d better make it count... you brat.”

...

Jiang Yu lay on his bed, his head tilted to the side as he watched the horizon being outlined in a faint orange glow. The tip of his foot caught the edge of his slipper, swaying it unconsciously. Finally, with a soft “clack,” the slipper fell to the floor.

Family, huh... Jiang Yu sighed, pushed himself up from the bed, and shook his head vigorously before putting his slippers back on properly. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy toward his predecessor.

He was no stranger to social nuances, nor was he one of those bland protagonists in galgames who possessed nothing but “kindness.”

According to his predecessor’s memories, his relationship with Taihei Doma was indeed good, but not close enough for the man to be the type to make such a comforting phone call. Even though Taihei had used Umaru Doma as an entry point for the conversation, his primary objective was clearly to remind him that “your family is always watching over you” and “someone has shouldered the pressure for you, so go ahead and do what you want to do.”

Therefore, the source of this call was obvious—it was the biological father of his predecessor, a man Jiang Yu still didn’t know how to face.

Recalling that tall figure from his memories, Jiang Yu couldn't put a name to the complex mix of emotions he felt. The sense of estrangement intertwined with a deep-seated, innate longing, leading Jiang Yu to avoid dwelling on the subject altogether.

However... he felt a strange sense of enjoyment mixed with unfamiliarity regarding this concern from a relative. It was as if a piece of duckweed, having drifted for years, had finally found its roots, bringing a long-lost sense of security.

With a complex sigh, he checked the time, stood up, and headed out of his room to prepare dinner.

...

After finishing dinner and showering, Jiang Yu returned to his room, opened his computer, and hesitated as he looked at the two folders labeled "Oregairu" and "The Witch’s House."

“Do what I want to do... is that it?” A moment later, Jiang Yu murmured to himself, his expression firm as he clicked into the latter folder.

Launching RPG Maker (it’s a wonder I still remember the name of this software I blurted out back then), Jiang Yu began meticulously constructing the scenes. No matter how much one praises the brilliance of the plot, the success of *The Witch’s House* was built upon its polished gameplay experience. Whether it was the original creator’s obsession with detail or the expert rendering of the horror atmosphere, the current Jiang Yu felt he still had a long way to go.

That was precisely why he had to give it his all; he didn’t want his lack of technical skill to result in a buggy experience, earning him the label of “a game sold with bugs included” from the players.

Though, Jiang Yu had never really considered how much a niche horror RPG could achieve commercially, so whether the term “widespread players” was accurate remained up for debate.

After placing the basic models for the tables and chairs, Jiang Yu let out a long breath. Even though it was just a small room in the game, watching the scene take shape filled him with a profound sense of accomplishment.

After all, Jiang Yu had been an amateur in his past life, learning to make games through trial and error, often relying on his own specific habits.

For instance, after building the basic template for a scene, he would often try to perfect it before moving on to the next, only to realize later that many elements were reusable—but because the previous scene was already finished, he would have to start from scratch.

Such behavior wasted a lot of time. Therefore, having learned from his past mistakes, Jiang Yu saved the basic templates for every scene during the production of *The Witch’s House* to ensure he wouldn’t lose his work when he needed it later.

“Now... next are the small items like the roses, wall lamps, and the fireplace. I remember drawing quite a few assets for these while at school this week, right?” Jiang Yu rubbed his chin with his right hand, tapping his desk with his left, and muttered to himself.

He didn't intend to use the software’s built-in assets for these small objects that appeared repeatedly throughout the game.

With that, Jiang Yu took his book of game assets down from the shelf. As he flipped through them, he couldn't help but feel troubled: where on earth could he find a scanner to use? Or rather, who would have one? Come to think of it, if he had just bought a drawing tablet at the beginning, all these problems would have been solved, right? Even if it meant learning how to use it from scratch...

Wait—I remember Tomoya has a printer at home, right? Maybe he has a scanner too?

Thinking of this, Jiang Yu picked up his phone and sent a message to Tomoya Aki. While waiting for a reply, he continued building the next scene.

Soon enough, Tomoya replied. Jiang Yu stopped his mouse and opened LINE.

TAKI: “I don’t have one at home, but if you need to use one, Eriri has one.”

That incredibly troublesome, blonde-twintail tsundere young lady who is also a... ahem, never mind, it’s better not to gossip behind people’s backs.

After a moment of thought, he looked at the scene, which was still far from his memory of *The Witch’s House*, and decided it was best to scan the assets as soon as possible.

Borrowing a scanner shouldn't be a big deal