The meeting wrapped up just after 6:30 PM, with the team lingering around the whiteboard throwing in some final suggestions. James was about to start packing up when Yuri approached him, her tablet cradled in her arms.
"James," she said quietly, almost too quietly for the usual assertive Yuri. "Do you have time for… a private discussion?"
James glanced over. "About the new hires?"
"No," she replied, eyes flicking toward the others. "It's about Furious Birds. I've been thinking of a few experimental mechanics—things that might help us scale it long-term."
He straightened up, genuinely intrigued. "Alright. Meeting room's not exactly private, though."
Yuri glanced at Airi and Sam, who were busy laughing over something at Airi's desk. She nodded, confirming his point.
James rubbed the back of his neck. "Wanna talk it over somewhere more quiet? There's a Starbucks at SM Centerpoint. Ten minutes tops by bike."
Yuri blinked, surprised. "Starbucks…?"
"Nothing fancy. Just coffee and dev talk." He paused. "Unless you're not comfortable—"
"No, I'm fine with that," she cut in quickly, her voice a touch too fast. "I mean—yes, let's go."
James smirked lightly and picked up his motorcycle keys from his desk. "Then let's roll. I'll take us there."
Two minutes later, they were in front of the studio motorcycle parking, standing beside the familiar Yamaha Sniper 135. James handed her a matte black helmet—the backup one he used whenever someone rode with him.
"Here. Tighten the strap snug under your chin."
Yuri took the helmet with both hands, staring at it like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
"…You've ridden a motorcycle before, right?" James asked, noting her expression.
Yuri's lips curled into a dry smile, her confident facade cracking just a little. "I grew up in Seoul. I took the subway. I don't exactly… ride motorcycles."
James raised an eyebrow. "You scared?"
"Not scared," she muttered, fumbling with the helmet straps. "Just… respectfully cautious."
He chuckled and tightened the strap for her when she struggled. "I'll drive slow. Promise."
She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright. I trust you."
James mounted the bike and looked back over his shoulder. "Hop on."
Yuri climbed on, clearly unsure where to place her feet at first. When she finally settled, she sat stiffly, keeping an awkward distance between them.
"Where should I… hold?" she asked quietly.
"Shoulders are fine," James replied.
Gingerly, she placed her hands on his shoulders like he was made of glass. "Okay," she whispered.
He started the engine, and they began pulling out of the parking lot.
Everything was fine… at first.
But the moment they hit the main road and a jeepney screeched past them, followed by a honking SUV, Yuri flinched hard.
Another minute into the ride, a massive delivery truck thundered by on the opposite lane, the sudden gust making the bike sway slightly. That was it.
"Ah—!" she gasped softly, and instinctively, her hands slipped from his shoulders.
James felt it before he saw it—Yuri's arms hesitantly sliding around his waist, then tightening as she pressed herself closer, her head lowering until her cheek brushed lightly against his back.
He didn't say anything.
She didn't either.
But he could feel her breathing—sharp at first, then slowly calming as the minutes passed. She clung tighter whenever another car zoomed by, and somewhere along the way, she shut her eyes completely, holding onto him like he was the only thing anchoring her to reality.
By the time they reached the mall and parked in the basement level, the engine died down and James tapped her hand gently.
"Hey. We're here."
Yuri blinked, slowly pulled back, and awkwardly slid off the bike. She tugged off her helmet, her bobbed hair tousled and cheeks a shade redder than usual.
"I-I'm fine," she said too quickly, clutching her tablet like a shield.
James tried not to grin. "You sure? You looked like you were going to phase through me halfway through E. Rodriguez."
"I was evaluating air resistance and… situational momentum," she mumbled, eyes down.
"Ah, physics-based clinging. Got it."
She gave him a look that tried to be sharp but failed spectacularly under her still-blushing face.
Together, they headed up to the ground floor, entering the brightly lit atrium of SM Centerpoint. The scent of coffee, bread, and perfume filled the air, blending with the gentle murmur of post-work mallgoers.
Inside the Starbucks, they found a small booth tucked near the window.
Yuri sat down, clearly trying to compose herself.
James placed their order—two cold brews and a slice of chocolate cake—then slid into the seat across from her.
"So," he began, sipping from his cup. "What's on your mind?"
Yuri exhaled, her voice returning to its usual calm and steady tone—though her fingers still twitched faintly against her tablet.
"I've been thinking," she said, opening a new page on her drawing pad. "About Furious Birds, we know eventually millions of players are going to finish it in a span of a week or two if they dedicate themselves to playing it. If that happens, you will lose the playerbase and potentially income. I was wondering why don't we make spinoffs based around Furious Birds, keeping the market, you know what I'm saying?"
Spinoffs.
It was a term that used to make him twitch.
In his old world—the future—Angry Birds had been a legendary success story... and a tragic one. It started as a masterstroke in simple mobile gameplay, but over the years, Rovio had run it into the ground with endless spin-offs: racing games, RPGs, match-3 puzzles, even an unnecessary cinematic universe. The soul of the original was lost in a haze of corporate greed.
He wasn't going to let that happen to Furious Birds.
"I get where you're coming from," James said after a moment. "And I respect it. You're right—we can't afford to let the momentum drop. If people finish the levels and move on, we lose them. Plain and simple."
Yuri nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Exactly. Even just a small content drop every few weeks would help."
James raised a brow, but his expression remained thoughtful. "But let me ask you something. How many spin-offs do you think a player can tolerate before they start feeling like they're being milked?"
Yuri paused. "Depends on how it's executed, I guess. Why?"
James leaned forward slightly. "Because there were games that tried too hard to extend their shelf life. They made spin-offs without substance. Just re-skinned versions, lazy cash grabs. The audience caught on—and when that happens, trust dies. And when trust dies, so does the brand."
Yuri's brows furrowed. "So… no spin-offs?"
"No," James said, tapping the table lightly. "Not no spin-offs. Just… smart ones. Strategic ones. Spin-offs that respect the core game, but add something meaningful. A new mechanic. A new mode. A new experience."
Yuri sipped her coffee. "So what's your idea then?"
James smiled, his voice lowering as he leaned in conspiratorially.
"Instead of making direct spin-offs, we create a universe—a connected world. Think of Furious Birds as our flagship. From there, we expand horizontally, not vertically."
Yuri tilted her head. "Horizontally?"
"We make new games set in the same world, but with different genres. Different styles. Not just slingshots and physics puzzles."
He grabbed a napkin and began sketching with a pen from his pocket. His strokes were quick but confident.
"Picture this," he said. "Furious Birds Tactics. A turn-based strategy game using the same characters. Each bird has different movement and abilities. You battle raccoon bosses across a hex-grid forest map. Something casual, but tactical enough to get people hooked."
He scribbled hexagons. Tiny birds on one side, masked raccoons on the other.
Yuri's eyes lit up slightly. "Like a mini-Fire Emblem with birds."
"Exactly."
He kept drawing. "Then later? We introduce Furious Kart. A fun, chaotic racing game. Power-ups, banana traps—er, acorn traps. Raccoons throwing barrels. You get the idea."
Yuri chuckled. "That's more Sam's kind of pitch, but okay, I see it."
"Here's the best part," James said, circling his sketch. "All these games—Tactics, Kart, even a puzzle game later—they share the same core characters, lore, assets. Which means we save on art and development. But we release them one at a time. Quality over quantity. Let the market breathe between each."
"And since it's not slingshot clones every time, players won't feel fatigued," Yuri said, catching on quickly.
"Bingo."
Yuri smiled, clearly impressed. "You already thought about this, huh?"
James gave a modest shrug. "Let's just say I've watched how it goes wrong. I don't want to build something amazing only to cheapen it six months later."
Yuri took a bite of chocolate cake, thoughtful. "So instead of squeezing the fruit dry, we plant a bigger tree."
James grinned. "Exactly."
They sat in silence for a few moments, both sipping their drinks, the ideas settling between them.
"…I want to help you make it real," Yuri said, eyes fixed on him now. "Not just as a programmer. But like, actually help lead something like Furious Tactics."
James blinked. "You want to direct it?"
She shrugged, a small blush rising to her cheeks. "Maybe not lead-lead. But help define it. Code the base systems. Set up the combat loop. Build the foundation."
James gave a short laugh. "Well, damn. You don't mess around, do you?"
Yuri grinned, her usual mature expression softening. "Not when I believe in something."
He looked at her, then extended a hand across the table. "Then you're in. Furious Tactics will be yours to architect."
She took it without hesitation, firm and confident.
They held it for a beat longer than necessary before letting go.
Yuri leaned back, looking up at the café ceiling with a rare, relaxed smile. "Who would've thought I'd be working on a bird strategy game in a different country."
James smirked. "Who would've thought I'd be running a studio after nearly ending up on a bridge."
Yuri blinked. "What?"
James froze for a second, then casually waved it off. "Long story. I'll tell you someday."
Yuri studied him for a moment, curious—but respectful enough not to pry.
Instead, she smiled. "I'll hold you to that."
They stood up a few minutes later, gathering their things. The evening crowd had started to pour into the mall, and the smell of freshly baked pretzels and fried chicken lingered in the air.
Outside, as they walked back toward the basement parking, James glanced at her.
"Still scared of the bike?"
Yuri scoffed. "Only mildly terrified."
He laughed, handing her the helmet again. "Well, this time, you already know where to hold."
Yuri blushed. "Shut up and start the engine."