Of course, even with Eirlys' motivation, no one could give a good solution on the fly.

As a third party, it might sound obviously, I mean like, duh! I am an avid player with somewhat tad bit tiny bit insights of how the game mechanics work. But these guys were probably cogs, literally; they know how one part works, hard to connect it to another part, I wonder if they even have the game files on hand, probably just what they worked on.

Don't ask me for furtheer details, I do not know how coding works.

So, after Eirlys' demands, people started acting busy, typing on their computers, laptops, whatever as the online meeting kept stretching on like a rubber band someone was too afraid to let snap.

My legs had gone numb a long time ago, folded under me on this stupidly plush lounge chair that looked expensive but felt like sitting on a soft coffin.

I got bored and turned my face away from the camera to yawn quietly, before just crossing my arms in front of chest and closed my eyes slightly.

Eirlys' office lounge smelled faintly of lemon cleaning spray and whatever brand of printer toner billionaires bought for their skyscrapers. And coffee, fresh, lingering coffee that were probably well-brewed… Ah, I forgot, I just brewed one, hehe, guilty.

I fiddled with the paper coaster under my coffee cup for the hundredth time, peeling it apart bit by bit until it frayed like the end of a chewed pencil.

My phone was face-down on my thigh, vibrating every few minutes from notifications I pretended didn't exist. But I didn't dare pick it up, not with the projector blasting the video call right beside me like a sunlamp of corporate stress.

Then came the first voice to break the tension, as an Asian nerdy looking man in glasses spoke up what a lot of people might've been thinking.

"We should close the server for now." He said, "While we come up with a solution, otherwise the plot's going to be fucked."

I'd like to imagined this guy leaning back in his chair at home, hair a mess, a half-eaten cup ramen beside him giving off steam.

He wasn't wrong, honestly, but someone else practically lunged into the conversation.

"No! Absolutely not, we promised twenty-four-seven uptime."

"Please." A soft groan echoed from another window. "Players will understand, emergency maintenance isn't the end of the world."

"Players never understand anything ever. The masses are too stupid to know what's good for them, and that has been proven for milleniums, leaving it open is safer in the long term." someone added, rudely so, I almost pouted since I was a player.

A little bit of chaos ensued, not shouting though—no one was brave enough to scream in front of a hundred coworkers—but that simmering kind of argument where everyone tries to stay "professional" while you can hear the urge to strangle someone leaking through every word.

They were using words like "As I have mentioned before", "Yes, and have you considered", "We have to think about", and all that jazzy savant bullshit.

I leaned back, sinking deeper into the cushion, and watched the disaster unfold. It was almost soothing, in a weird, voyeuristic way… God, was Sarah scrubbing off me? Watching adults argue about imaginary gold and digital relics made me feel less pathetic about my own problems, at least their jobs were on the line.

Though, I'd feel bad if Ann and I accidentally cause a single father of two to lose his job… Eh, the Sonders probably pay well for these top tiers engineers who's willing to turn up at 9PM, I think.

I was still listening, but gotta act nonchalant, so I started glancing around the room; I took notice in the floor-to-ceiling windows, polished marble tiles, a weirdly tall plant in a vase that looked overly expensive.

The whole place had this sterile, midnight-lab atmosphere.

Eirlys sat beside the table with the projector across from me, posture relaxed, but her brains are visibly fried.

At times, she would glance over, and I'd assume she wanted to ask something, but couldn't bring herself to, since I would be not familiar with the codes of the game.

Someone on the call tried to mediate.

"If we can't shut down the server, then we need partial containment, just to slow the damage."

"Maybe lock the quest entry for now? Just disable its interaction point." Another voice chimed in, hesitant but trying.

"Too late," someone groaned. "Damage is done. Forty thousand relics are already out there."

But another developer corrected him sharply:

"It still matters, it's easier to fix when it's not moving, just lock the entire questline and all interactions of that item, hell, maybe even the markets."

While they bickered, I stretched my legs out and nearly kicked over a small trash bin under the desk, a loud "thump" startled me as I looked more guilty than three racoons in a trench coat. My immediate reaction was to pretend not to notice, so I sat properly for two seconds, acting like nothing happened, and that no one will look at me (hopefully because I was not looking at the screen to confirm), before I let go of myself and then slouched again.

"I'm going to go ahead and lock the marketplace entirely, let's just disable selling, buying… Everything involving gold flow for now."

"We should also freeze item drops, and item trading."

"Innocent unaffected players will absolutely scream if we do that."

"They're already screaming, what's new? Just do it! At least this way they won't create more trouble in the economy, I'm seeing a level 10 player with more decked gears than a level 50 already."

To keep myself from smiling and outing myself as an insider, I quietly pushed myself up and wandered a few steps around the room.

I didn't go far, of course, mostly because I didn't want to look like some lost street cat that wandered into the wrong penthouse. If I were to be caught by a security guard and Eirlys' not there to clear my name, I would most likely end up in some kind of freaky porno.

God, why did I imagine it'd come to that? Ridiculous of you, Cory, ridiculous!

I approached a whiteboard near the window with half-erased diagrams and weird abbreviations scribbled everywhere that I couldn't decipher. There were arrows, symbols, numbers, which was fascinating to try and figure out at first, but got boring. I traced one of the dry-erase marker stains with my finger, feeling it catch slightly on the glossy surface.

My ears though, was still focusing on the topic at hand.

"Hey uh Ngo, have you check the questline reward system to make sure it's not an influx of value?"

"I did."

"Please double check."

"Hold on…" A pause, "Yeah, no."

"There's also no anomaly in the item script, I'd assume it's an interaction with the player, or interaction with some kind of items we're not aware of, but apparently not."

"Ask Hikari about the spawn zones."

"Spawn zones are normal… And it's ridiculous to assume it's a spawning issue, since even if 10000 spawns, no way a normal player could pick them all up."

Then, more silence. Heavy, lumpy silence, I'd assume they all were cussing, yelling, or sighing, but since their mics' muted out of professional ethics, nothing was picked up.

I walked back to my seat but misjudged the distance and almost plopped onto the edge. I caught myself just in time, pretending nothing happened, though I could feel my face heat up like I'd just embarrassed myself in front of a million spectators.

Eirlys glanced at me—just a tiny curious look—but didn't say anything, she probably thought I was just stretching… Yeah, good, keep believing that.

For a moment, I wondered if I should even speak now that everyone's back to their quiet phase.

I wasn't a dev nor was I a tester. I was… whatever the hell Eirlys decided to call me, an assistant? Yeah.

But then again… I'd played enough of Darkmoon Adventure during the PC days. Hell, I grew up online, my teenage years were basically spent donating my heart and soul into this god-forsaken community, and sometimes you didn't need a computer science degree to see what was obvious.

My fingers worried at the frayed coaster edges again, vy voice felt embarrassingly small as I spoke, but the room was so quiet it carried anyway.

"Um… I have a suggestion."

Eirlys's head turned instantly, I could see shock in her eyes, as so did everyone on the call.

"Could it be an item dupe exploit?"

I tried getting a higher pitch on my voice, like squeaky hamster just saying random stuff, a stupid lil' parrot that doesn't comprehend what she was talking about.

The silence stretched for another 5 seconds until Eirlys told someone to check if there were signs of item-duping.

I would assume… They didn't want to admit to the shame, that a random, flowery and ungroomed looking gremlin pointed out the truth before they even do.

And I'd assume… They were right, they shouldn't feel ashamed, since I was the one who discovered this duping method with Ann.

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