(Start of Week 19. Theo's Balance: $18,295.00)

  Week 19 - Monday

  Monday morning found Theo not basking in the afterglow of acquisition, but immersed in the unglamorous reality of bringing Maria's Charcoal Chicken back from the brink. The 'Closed for Renovations' sign hung starkly in the window, buying him precious time. His weekend had been a blur of scrubbing decades of grime and patching the most immediate physical flaws of the shop, work that left his muscles aching but his resolve hardened. Now, Week 19 was about laying the real foundation. Finalizing the arranged repairs and, more importantly, deploying his power permanently onto the core equipment.

  The professional hood cleaners arrived first, a two-person crew equipped with pressure washers and potent, citrus-scented solvents. Theo watched, satisfied, as they systematically stripped away the thick, sticky layers of grease coating the exhaust hood and filters, revealing gleaming, almost forgotten stainless steel beneath. One less fire hazard, one less source of lingering Jono-era stench, he noted clinically. He paid their invoice promptly via his new credit union account's app, mentally deducting the significant cost from his dwindling cash reserves.

  Next came Sal, the grizzled handyman Theo had hired for the minor plumbing and floor repairs. Theo met him at the back prep sink. "Faucet holding up?"

  Sal turned it on and off, checking the seals. "Tight as a drum. Shoulda replaced the whole fixture, thing's ancient, but the new washers will hold it for a while." He pointed to the floor near the fryer. "Patch is solid too. Like I said though, this whole floor's seen better decades. You'll want to redo it proper eventually."

  "Eventually," Theo echoed noncommittally. "Appreciate the quick work, Sal." He settled the bill, another small but necessary dent in his capital.

  With the tradespeople gone by mid-morning and the sharp scent of degreaser starting to fade, Theo locked the front door again, the click echoing in the now truly empty space. It was time. He took a deep breath, centring himself, the familiar low hum of potential stirring within him, ready to be unleashed. Ten charges available today, ten more tomorrow. Enough for the core systems and strategic extras. He approached the silent, hulking form of the charcoal rotisserie, placing a hand firmly on its cool stainless steel flank.

  He focused, visualizing perfectly even heat distribution, flawless rotation, motors running with quiet efficiency. Rotisserie. +1 Cooking Consistency/Efficiency. Ping. The familiar resonance flowed, deeper this time, sinking into the heavy metal, feeling permanent, foundational. (Charge 1/10)

  Next, the deep fryer bank. Two large, greasy veterans of countless batches of chips. He focused on the thermostats, the heating elements within, picturing instant temperature recovery, unwavering heat. Deep Fryers (Both). +1 Temperature Stability/Recovery. Ping. (Charge 2/10)

  He moved with methodical purpose. The large walk-in refrigerator at the back, essential for preserving inventory. Walk-in Refrigerator. +1 Temperature Stability/Efficiency. Ping. (Charge 3/10). The smaller glass-fronted drinks fridge out front. Drinks Fridge. +1 Cooling Efficiency. Ping. (Charge 4/10). The main ventilation hood extractor fan, crucial for air quality and avoiding a greasy fug. Exhaust Fan. +1 Airflow Efficiency/Durability. Ping. (Charge 5/10).

  The point-of-sale system – the clunky cash register and separate, ancient card terminal. Breakdowns during a rush were unacceptable. POS Register & Card Terminal. +1 Reliability/Speed. Ping. (Charge 6/10).

  He paused, assessing. Core systems enhanced. What else offered high leverage? He spotted the electric knife sharpener Jono had left, dusty on a shelf. Essential for maintaining prep knives. Knife Sharpener. +1 Sharpening Effectiveness. Ping. (Charge 7/10). He found Maria's old Santoku knife, cleaned it, and enhanced it too. Santoku Knife. +1 Sharpness/Edge Retention. Ping. (Charge 8/10). The main prep tables looked sturdy but were scratched and stained. Prep Tables (All). +1 Durability/Surface Integrity. Ping. (Charge 9/10). Finally, for peace of mind, the front door lock again, reinforcing its mechanism. Front Door Lock. +1 Security/Mechanism Smoothness. Ping. (Charge 10/10).

  Monday's charges expended. He felt the familiar mental drain, but satisfaction outweighed it. The shop felt different, infused with a latent, optimized potential only he could sense.

  Week 19 - Tuesday

  Tuesday was dedicated to round two of enhancements and final preparations. He used his newly refreshed charges. The chip warmer Jono barely used? Chip Warmer. +1 Heat Consistency/Retention. Ping. (1/10). The backup fryer basket? Fryer Basket. +1 Durability. Ping. (2/10). The heavy-duty can opener? Can Opener. +1 Mechanism Durability. Ping. (3/10). He even enhanced the main light switch panel (+1 Reliability) and the handle on the walk-in fridge (+1 Durability). He was being thorough, perhaps excessively so, reinforcing anything that looked prone to failure or could impact efficiency, spending another five charges (8/10 total used for Tuesday).

  He spent the rest of the day on aesthetics and final setup. He touched up chipped paintwork on the walls. He cleaned the front windows until they sparkled. He designed a simple but clean menu board using erasable markers. Charcoal Chicken (Whole, Half, Quarter), Hand-Cut Fries (made from fresh potatoes he’d sourced, not frozen), basic combo deals, canned sodas. He finalized his opening day special: Half Chicken + Small Chips for $7.50, an aggressive price designed purely to get people in the door.

  Finally, late Tuesday afternoon, he carefully took down the "CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS" sign. He replaced it with a new one, printed in bold, hopeful letters: GRAND OPENING WEDNESDAY! Maria's Charcoal Chicken - Under New Management! Opening Special: Half Chicken & Chips $7.50 – Better than Half Price! He stepped back onto the sidewalk, looking at the sign, at the clean windows, the implicitly optimized equipment humming silently within. Butterflies, unfamiliar and unwelcome, fluttered in his stomach. This was real. His name wasn't on the sign yet, but his future was tied to this small, unassuming shop.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Week 19 - Wednesday

  Wednesday. Opening Day. Theo arrived at the shop before dawn, his sleep having been shallow, punctuated by anxiety dreams of burnt chicken and empty tills. The sixty grand safety net, now eighteen grand felt with the asset purchase, suddenly irrelevant. This felt like the real test. Owning an asset, being responsible for its success or failure… his destiny felt starkly, terrifyingly in his own hands.

  He unlocked the door, the +1 enhanced lock turning smoothly. He switched on the lights, the non-flickering fluorescents casting a clean, bright glow. He fired up the rotisserie, its enhanced elements heating quickly and evenly. He started prepping the fresh chickens he’d had delivered, trussing them, seasoning them simply but carefully, following a blend he’d researched that approximated traditional recipes, foregoing Jono's neglect. He loaded them onto the spits. He started blanching the fresh-cut potatoes for the chips, preparing them for their final fry later. The work was physical, demanding, a world away from spreadsheets and forum posts, but there was a grounding satisfaction to it.

  He opened the doors promptly at 11:30 AM, the smell of roasting chicken finally starting to replace the scent of degreaser. He stood behind the counter, waiting. And waiting. The lunch hour rush in the surrounding businesses came and went. A few people glanced in the window at the 'Grand Opening' sign, then walked on. Doubt, cold and sharp, began to gnaw at him. Was this a massive miscalculation? Did Jono destroy the reputation so thoroughly that even better than half-price chicken couldn't lure people back?

  Around 1 PM, the bell above the door finally jangled. An elderly woman, leaning lightly on a cane, peered around uncertainly. It wasn't the woman from Monday night, but she had the same air of cautious hope.

  "Open?" she asked tentatively.

  "Yes! Yes, we are," Theo replied, perhaps a little too eagerly. "Welcome. Grand opening special today, half chicken and chips for seven fifty."

  "Oh, my," she said, smiling faintly. "That is a special. Haven't been here since… well, since Maria left. Is it… is it any good again?"

  "I hope so," Theo said honestly. "Under new management. Trying hard to bring back the quality."

  She ordered the special. Theo carefully selected a perfectly cooked half chicken from the +1 rotisserie, skin crisp and golden, juices glistening. He dropped a basket of blanched chips into the +1 fryer, they sizzled immediately, the oil temperature holding perfectly steady. Within minutes, they were golden brown, perfectly crisp. He drained them, seasoned them moderately, and packed the order.

  "$7.50," he said, sliding the box across the counter. This was it. His first sale. The first tangible return on his $38,000 investment, his planning, his secret power.

  The woman handed him a ten-dollar bill. As Theo counted out the change, his hand was trembling almost imperceptibly. He felt a ridiculous, overwhelming surge of emotion, relief, pride, terror, hope, all tangled together. He handed her the change with a slightly watery smile.

  The woman looked at him closely, her expression shifting from curiosity to gentle concern. "You alright there, young man? You look a bit… overwhelmed."

  Theo flushed slightly. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just… first day. First customer, actually. Means a lot."

  She patted his hand briefly across the counter. "Ah. Starting a business. It's a brave thing, especially these days. Hard work. My late husband and I ran a small bakery down the street for forty years. Takes everything you've got." She picked up her order. "Well, I wish you all the success in the world. Hope the chicken's as good as it smells." She gave him another kind smile and walked slowly out.

  Theo watched her go, strangely moved by the brief interaction. The rest of the afternoon saw only a slow trickle of customers, maybe ten more people, mostly grabbing the special out of curiosity. The early dinner hours brought a few more. By the time he closed up shop, exhausted, he’d made exactly twenty sales. $150 in gross revenue. Roughly what Jono probably did on a bad day.

  Most people took their orders to go, leaving Theo with no immediate feedback. But one young couple decided to eat at one of the two small, basic tables near the window. Theo watched them nervously from behind the counter as they unwrapped their chicken and chips. He saw their eyes widen slightly after the first bite. He saw them murmuring to each other, nodding.

  He wiped down the counter, needing an excuse to approach. "Everything alright for you folks?" he asked casually.

  The man looked up, beaming. "Alright? Man, this is incredible! Seriously, this might be the best charcoal chicken I've ever had. So juicy! And the chips are perfect!"

  His partner nodded vigorously. "Totally! We almost didn't come in because we heard this place had gone downhill, but wow! We'll definitely be back. And leaving a five-star review!"

  "Thank you," Theo said, feeling a surge of genuine gratitude that surprised him. "That… that would be amazing. Really appreciate it."

  He cleaned up after they left, the couple's praise echoing in the quiet shop. Twenty sales. It felt both pathetic and monumental. He started tallying the minimal expenses against the tiny revenue. Was this a mistake? Sinking forty grand into a business pulling in $150 on opening day? Panic flickered. He ruthlessly suppressed it. It's Day One, he told himself firmly. No marketing. Rebuilding reputation takes time. The product is good. Trust the process. Trust the enhancement.

  Week 19 - Thursday

  Thursday was marginally better. Thirty sales, though the open sale had finished, so its reverted back to $16 for the chicken and chips. Crucially, Theo recognized at least four faces from Wednesday among the customers. Repeat business, already. A vital sign. He saw one of them talking animatedly to a friend as they left, pointing back towards the shop. Word-of-mouth was starting, slowly. But thirty sales still felt painfully slow. He needed to accelerate awareness, capitalize on the superior product before the opening special ended. He needed… marketing. Digital marketing. Algorithms. Social media buzz.

  He thought immediately of Sarah. Her expertise was exactly what he needed. But could he ask her for professional help, even informal advice, without revealing too much or complicating their nascent, tentative connection? He debated internally. The risk felt manageable, especially now. He could frame it as helping out a new small business owner.

  He pulled out his phone during a lull.

  Theo: Hey Sarah. Quick question for the Meta marketing guru ;) Doing some consulting for a small local business that just reopened (takeaway joint). Food's great now but nobody knows they exist. Any quick tips for generating local buzz on social media without spending a fortune?

  He waited, watching the screen. Her reply came a few minutes later.

  Sarah: Hey! Ooh, consulting, nice! Local buzz... yeah, totally doable. Hyperlocal targeting on FB/Insta, engaging visuals (food pics!), maybe a small influencer outreach if they have budget? Depends on their demo. Happy to chat more if you want specifics! Lemme know :)

  Theo smiled faintly. Predictably helpful. Time to reel her in, gently.

  Theo: Actually, yeah, that would be great. Might be easier to show you. Any chance you could swing by the place itself tomorrow afternoon? Say, around 2? It's called Maria's Charcoal Chicken. I can grab you some food for your trouble. Need to pick your brain on the tech/marketing side.

  Sarah: Maria's? That place near the old cinemas? Heard it went downhill HARD lol. But sure, I can take a late lunch break around 2 tomorrow. Free food + talking strategy sounds way better than my actual job! ?? See ya then!

  Perfect. She knew the place, knew its bad reputation. Which would make the contrast even more effective.