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His hand rested on the cold, lifeless shoulder of Fatty Ben, his most trusted friend. The sight of Ben standing like a stone statue, eyes vacant and body stiff, sent a sharp pang through Kent’s chest.

His knuckles tightened, and a wave of helpless frustration washed over him. The haunting melody still drifted in the air, tugging at the edges of his mind, but unlike his companions, Kent remained unaffected.

"Oh, so sad… is this fat guy your friend?" Suddenly a soft, mockin ...

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After finally coming back from that hellish world, you actually want to open a game company to cover up that world?

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