Far away from the bustling systems of the Nebeska Galaxy, there existed a small planet almost forgotten by the rest of the universe.
It had no massive cities.
No towering steel buildings.
No endless highways slicing through its lands.
Instead, it was pure, untouched greenery as far as the eye could see—rolling plains of grass, gentle hills, and a sky so blue it seemed painted by hand.
And right in the middle of one of these fields, an old man sat cross-legged on the soft grass, his white robes rippling lightly in the breeze.
Before him floated a large holographic screen, replaying the Doraemon opening theme over and over again.
The cheerful tune filled the air, blending strangely with the serene surroundings.
The old man closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him.
He smiled faintly.
"Hah..." he chuckled to no one in particular. "I don't know why... but this song always brings me back to my childhood."
There was a warmth in his voice, the kind that only years of memories could create.
It was quiet for a while.
Only the wind and the music kept him company.
Then, without warning, a shimmer appeared beside him, and a figure materialized—a man-shaped AI assistant, dressed neatly like an old butler.
The old man lazily cracked one eye open.
"So, Robert," he said, voice relaxed. "Any news for me?"
"Yes, sir," the AI bowed politely. "I have two pieces of information."
The old man motioned lazily with his hand. "Go ahead."
Robert straightened. "First, there is news spreading across the Nebeska Galaxy. It concerns Vault Studios. Allegations have surfaced claiming that they used political connections to gain entry into the FAMD competition."
The old man's brows furrowed slightly.
"Is it true?" he asked, voice now tinged with disappointment.
"I investigated, sir," Robert answered immediately. "It is false."
The old man's eyes opened fully now, focused and sharp.
"Explain," he said.
Robert nodded. "Vault Studios is not backed by any known corporations or political factions. The studio is run by a single individual—Arwin West. Twenty years old. No powerful relatives. No major sponsors. His parents perished in a hyperspace accident years ago. Records show he inherited a modest compensation fund and has no significant external ties."
The old man sat up straighter.
"Twenty years old, you say?" His voice was filled with curiosity now.
"Yes, sir. And he is the creator of the Doraemon revival project."
The old man tapped his finger thoughtfully against his knee, staring at the bright sky.
"Such young talent... and already the world moves against him," he muttered.
He stayed silent for a few seconds longer before speaking again.
"Robert," he said firmly, "arrange a meeting. I want to see for myself what kind of spirit this young man carries."
Robert bowed once more. "It will be done."
With that, the AI disappeared, leaving the old man alone again.
He turned back to the floating screen still playing the cheerful Doraemon opening.
And softly—almost to himself—he began singing along.
"Yeah... yeah... yeah... Doraemon and I will head to... a very bright future..."
---
Meanwhile, in Nebeska Galaxy – FAMD Headquarters
Inside the polished metal corridors of the FAMD building, the atmosphere was far less peaceful.
Arwin sat stiffly in a chair opposite Celyne Voss, a tablet resting silently on the table between them.
The heavy silence between them said enough.
He had just been briefed about the rumors spreading like wildfire across the galaxy's networks—whispers that Vault Studios had cheated its way into the competition.
Celyne, ever the professional, maintained her composed expression.
Arwin, however, looked more restless.
"So... Starglow Studios?" he muttered, almost to himself.
"It's the most likely culprit," Celyne confirmed. "They were originally lined up for the spot you now hold. It's logical they'd be unhappy."
Arwin slumped back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't even do anything wrong..."
"You don't have to," she replied simply. "Perception is reality, Mr. Arwin."
He fell silent, staring down at the tablet showing dozens of article headlines accusing him of things he hadn't even thought of doing.
"This will impact your upcoming film," Celyne added quietly. "Whether we like it or not."
Arwin leaned forward again, hands clasped tightly.
"What do you suggest I do?" he asked. "I'm not... experienced with this kind of thing. I didn't prepare for... this."
Celyne paused for a moment, choosing her words carefully.
"You could request an official announcement from FAMD clearing your name," she said. "But in the end, that won't be enough. Once doubt is planted... it's hard to remove."
"Then what?" Arwin asked, voice steady but low.
"You need to show them something," Celyne said. "Not through words. Through your actions."
She stood up, gathering her tablet.
"For now, focus on your film. If you have a plan or need something, let me know. We'll help where we can."
With that, she gave a slight bow and exited the room, leaving Arwin alone.
-------
After leaving Celyne's office, I wandered through the wide, clean hallways of the FAMD headquarters.
The building was massive, cold, and polished. Every wall gleamed like a mirror, and the soft hum of machines filled the background. There were people walking here and there, but no one paid attention to me. Everyone seemed busy with their own important tasks.
It made me feel even smaller than I already did.
I kept walking, hands shoved into my pockets, until I finally reached the living quarters area. My apartment wasn't anything grand—it was simple, just like the temporary stay units they gave to participants.
As I stood in front of the door, I sighed heavily.
Click.
The door slid open with a soft sound, and I stepped inside.
The familiar, slightly cool air of my apartment brushed against my face. It wasn't big—just one main room, a kitchen space, a small bedroom, and a bathroom. Very plain. Very functional.
I tossed my jacket onto the nearby couch and walked toward the small window at the far end.
From there, I could see a piece of the cityscape.
Tall towers. Shimmering walkways. Flying cars moving like tiny fireflies.
Normally, I would have admired the view.
But today, my mind was too crowded.
I dragged myself over to the couch and dropped down heavily onto it, letting my head fall back against the cushions.
The quiet in the room was almost deafening.
I stared up at the plain white ceiling, the same one I had looked at dozens of times since moving in.
Somehow today... it looked even emptier.
I pulled out my tablet from my pocket and opened the galactic network.
Part of me didn't want to.
But I needed to see it for myself.
With a few taps, article after article flooded the screen.
All about me.
All about Vault Studios.
Headlines screamed accusations.
Wild rumors spun out of control.
I opened a few of them and scrolled through the comment sections.
And man... it wasn't pretty.
> "What a joke. How can a random studio just jump ahead like that?"
"FAMD clearly taking bribes now. Disgusting."
"Another nobody getting famous because of shady deals."
I exhaled slowly, scrolling down further.
Thankfully, not every comment was negative.
Some people still believed in the work.
> "I watched their movie. It was heartfelt and beautiful. Don't let rumors fool you."
"Vault Studios may be new, but they have real talent. Give them a chance."
A small, bitter smile crossed my lips.
At least not everyone turned their back.
Still, the damage was there.
The doubt was already planted.
And in a place like this galaxy, rumors could spread faster than light.
I closed the tablet and rubbed my face with both hands.
What can I even do?
For a moment, I just sat there in silence, trying to calm the storm inside my mind.
I thought back to Earth, a million years ago.
Back then, people didn't believe rumors so easily... right?
No.
Who was I kidding?
Even back then, a single tweet or post could ruin a life overnight.
Same thing here. Just... a different stage.
I knew I couldn't just sit around and hope things would magically fix themselves.
I needed to do something.
Something bold.
Something that would make everyone forget about the noise.
I leaned back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling again.
Then, as if the universe had dropped an idea straight into my head, a thought struck me.
It was a little crazy.
It would be a lot of work.
But maybe... just maybe... it could turn everything around.
Just as I was piecing the idea together, my tablet buzzed.
It was a message.
> "Mr. Arwin, the higher-ups at FAMD acknowledge some fault in the situation. They are willing to offer any support or compensation you may require."
Support, huh?
A slow grin formed on my face as a real plan started taking shape in my mind.
I didn't waste a second.
I tapped the call button and waited for the line to connect.
Celyne's calm face appeared on the screen.
"Mr. Arwin?" she said politely.
Without hesitation, I told her my plan.
"I know what I want from FAMD," I said.
"I want to release a new animated movie. And I want it to premiere directly through FAMD's official platform."