GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Prologue, Part III: Setup

His throat tightened. Even here, she worried more about him than herself. Her fingers twisted the phone cord, fighting the old habit of reaching across to straighten his collar.

"The game I'm making is about to get bigger, Mom. You might even hear about it in here soon."

Pride softened her worn features. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

They chatted in easier rhythm until her fingers began tapping against the counter. She leaned closer, voice low. "There's... something else. A possibility my case might be reopened."

Giri's heart skipped. He gripped the receiver tight.

"Nothing's certain, but they found new details—even witnesses—that could prove my innocence. The detective got an 'early retirement.' His replacement wants to re-investigate everything."

"Mom, that's—" His voice cracked. "When will you know? What can I do?"

"Nothing yet. Don't get your hopes too high." But her eyes held a spark he hadn't seen in years. "I just wanted you to know."

For a moment, Giri couldn't speak. Fifteen years of carrying this weight, of watching her fade behind walls—and now, maybe...

They filled the rest of their time with lighter talk—his debugging headaches, her library privileges, his team's progress, her creative writing class.

Her eyes darted to the countdown clock mounted on the wall.

"Almost time." She smiled, though her eyes held a hint of mischief. "Next time, remember to bring me some fried shrimp. They don't have them in here."

"Sure mom, I'll bring as much as you like." Giri's chest tightened at the simple request.

A guard approached with measured steps, his face softened with understanding. "Time's up, folks." His voice carried none of the usual prison authority.

Giri's mind wandered to shared meals at their favorite restaurant—crispy ebi fry, steaming rice, his mother's laughter echoing across the table. Simple joys now locked behind concrete and steel.

"I'll be back next month, mom."

She rose from her seat, blue uniform hanging loose on her frame. Each step toward the door seemed to pain her. Once, twice, three times she turned back, waving until she disappeared around the corner.

---

Giri went through the motions on the way home, buying dinner on autopilot—instant ramen and a carton of matcha milk.

Back in his apartment, he dropped onto the couch. His mind replayed the day in fragments, each one heavier than the last.

Why did things keep piling up like this? Was he really destined for struggle?

It felt deliberate, like someone was twisting his life to be unfair.

Work problems with deadlines breathing down his neck. Secret projects threatening his career. A case that might reopen, promising fresh headaches and court battles. Not a single day left free to focus on what he loved.

He looked around his dark room. The only sounds were the hum of the AC and the occasional car engine drifting by outside.

Alone. Work, family, expectations—everything pressed down at once, crushing in its weight.