Chapter 22: A Decision To Build

The arcade had just closed for the night, but Ethan wasn't alone.

The overhead lights were dimmed, the cabinets were dark, and the front door was locked—but he and his crew were still scattered across the floor, sitting among stools, beanbags, and chairs dragged from the snack table.

They'd all gathered the moment they heard about Carmen's offer.

Ethan had wanted to be transparent. And honestly? He needed their thoughts.

Amanda sat on the DDR pad, fiddling with a loose shoelace. Trevor leaned back in a chair, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. James had his laptop on his knees, but he wasn't typing. Not tonight.

Ethan stood at the counter, hands resting on its edge, as he finally said it aloud.

"She offered to help. Not just as an advisor—long-term. She didn't even ask for a salary yet. Just… wants to grow this with me."

A long beat of silence.

Then Amanda: "Okay, but like... that's not a bad thing, right?"

"No," Ethan admitted. "It's not. It's a great thing. It's just—big."

Trevor nodded. "Yeah. This isn't 'fix a machine and sweep the floor' big. This is 'form a business plan and hire people' big."

Ethan ran a hand through his hair. "Exactly."

James closed the lid on his laptop. "Do you trust her?"

"I think I do," Ethan said. "She's smart. She's sharp. She didn't try to sell herself—she listened. Gave good advice. Even showed me where I was blind."

Amanda kicked lightly at the corner of the pad. "So what's holding you back?"

Ethan hesitated.

"I built this place because it meant something to me. And now it means something to you guys. I'm scared that if I bring someone in—even someone good—I'll lose that. It won't be mine anymore."

The words hit heavier than he expected.

And the others went quiet.

It was James who finally broke the silence.

"You know, I was worried about that too," he said. "When we started helping. I thought maybe we'd get in the way. Change things. But it didn't stop being yours."

Trevor added, "It became ours. Which made it stronger."

Amanda nodded. "If Carmen's offering to help carry the weight without trying to rip the reins out of your hands, maybe that's exactly what you need."

Ethan let that sit.

Because he knew they were right.

This place had grown into something bigger than him. If it was going to keep growing, he couldn't carry it alone.

And maybe the next step wasn't letting go…

It was building with intention.

Three Days Later

The air was crisp, the sky clear, and the arcade was running smoothly—just past the lunch rush, just before the afternoon regulars rolled in.

Ethan sat at the same round table by the front window, this time with a fresh cup of coffee and a notebook that no longer just held repair notes or token logs.

Across from him sat Carmen, calm and collected, her bag set neatly beside her chair.

She folded her hands in front of her. "So. Thought it over?"

Ethan nodded, heart thudding.

"I did."

"And?"

"I want to say yes," he said, not wasting time. "I want your help."

Carmen's expression didn't change, but something in her shoulders eased—like she'd been holding her breath and didn't want to show it.

"But," Ethan added, "I want us to build this the right way. I don't want this to become another burnout engine or franchise factory. I want it to stay true to what it is."

Carmen smiled. "Then we'll make that the foundation."

He nodded. "I don't have money to offer right now—not real money. But if this works out, I'd be open to some kind of equity down the line. Or a paid advisory position."

"We'll draw up something fair," she said. "For now, I'm just happy to contribute."

Ethan let out a breath. "Okay."

They were doing this.

It felt surreal—but it felt right.

"I'll start slow," Carmen continued. "One afternoon a week. We'll begin with workflow—inventory, staff structure, delegation plans. Then I'll map out scalable elements—marketing pipelines, vendor relationships, maybe even brand identity."

Ethan scribbled it all down. It sounded like another language—but it sounded like the next level.

"And in return," she added with a grin, "I expect you to keep fixing machines, hosting tournaments, and remembering why you started."

"I think I can manage that."

She reached out her hand.

This time, it wasn't just an introduction.

It was an agreement.

They shook.

A New Path Forward

Later that night, Ethan stayed after hours again—alone, lights dimmed, machines humming like gentle breathing.

He stood in the center of the arcade, turning in place slowly, looking at every game, every memory, every dream.

Things had changed.

But they hadn't drifted. They'd evolved.

The quest had taken on a new form.

And now? He wasn't just playing to survive.

He was building to last.