At this point, Ethan had laid a solid foundation.
He had already successfully licensed one of his games. Contra wasn't the absolute best option, but given the circumstances, it was a solid start.
Unfortunately, he'd arrived in this timeline a few years too late.
Had he come three years earlier, the opportunities to innovate would've been nearly endless. Now, Super Mario had already launched. The Legend of Zelda and Dragon Quest were both in development. Even so, Contra still had its niche.
It would serve as his test balloon. After this, he had several other games ready to be released one after another—more than enough to firmly establish himself in this world's gaming industry.
Dr. Maxwell interrupted his thoughts.
"By the way, Ethan—aside from that little brick-breaking game, have you made anything else?"
"Hm? Yeah, I have. Why, Professor, were you thinking of trying out another game?"
Dr. Maxwell chuckled.
"Not me—my grandson! After he played that brick-breaker game at my house, he's been pestering his parents non-stop to visit me again. You've made me the favourite grandparent. But he's bound to get bored eventually, so I figured I'd ask—any other titles?"
"Oh! For your grandson? Perfect timing, actually. I do have a new game I've been working on. If you're interested, I can also try to get you a NGS-1 home console sometime."
Dr. Maxwell waved his hand dismissively.
"No need for that. Don't waste your money. I remember you're still in debt to some folks, aren't you? Focus on clearing that first—and invest your energy into this game venture of yours. That's what would really make me proud."
Ethan felt genuinely moved.
In his past life, he'd had few friends and even fewer people who truly cared for him. He built his company alone, weathering the cutthroat world of startups. Betrayal was common. People stabbed you in the back just as often as they shook your hand.
But in this world, he'd encountered genuine warmth. Honest support. Kindness that didn't expect a return.
People here… really were more sincere.
"Actually, Professor, I have a small favour to ask."
"Go ahead."
"I was hoping to use the school's computer lab. I don't want to keep relying on your personal machine. Plus, the lab has better equipment, right?"
"Hm… true. My place is a bit far from campus too. You going back and forth isn't ideal. Alright, I'll write you a formal access slip."
Dr. Maxwell wasn't just a respected professor—he had real pull in the university. Granting access to a student like Ethan wasn't much of a stretch.
"In fact," he added, "I could probably get you your own terminal in time. The country's modernising fast. Personal computers won't be rare forever. Soon, I think every home will have one."
Ethan nodded.
"Absolutely. I believe that too. Computers can genuinely improve people's lives."
Dr. Maxwell raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Improving quality of life, is it?"
"Yeah. I think they're a transitional technology. One day, there'll be something even more advanced—but for now, they're the foundation."
"Hah! There you go again, dreaming ahead of the times. Alright, here's your permission slip."
With a smile, he stamped and signed a formal authorization letter for Ethan. It granted him ongoing access to the computer lab.
It was the best kind of pass. Ethan could basically live in the lab if he wanted.
(Not that he would… but the option was nice.)
Walking down the concrete paths of the campus, Ethan passed beneath the glowing lampposts, each fitted with an old-school PA speaker.
Through the speakers, a rock song played—a catchy female vocal track with retro synth riffs. Unique to this world, but still oddly familiar.
Ahead, students rushed to evening lectures, books in hand. Their clothes marked the era unmistakably—men in muted suits with combed-back hair, and women in floral skirts or plaited braids.
The 1980s atmosphere hung thick in the air.
Ethan headed to the fourth floor of the university library, where the computer lab was located. It was quiet, isolated, and strictly off-limits to most students.
In this era, computers were still rare. If not for the chance encounter at Dr. Maxwell's house, Ethan might not have even touched one—let alone made a game.
He stepped up to the lab door, where a simple desk and chair sat outside. A middle-aged man was seated there, reading.
"Hello, sir. I'd like to request access to the computers."
The man looked up from his book and eyed Ethan carefully.
"Hmm? You don't look like a computer science student. I don't recall seeing you before."
Ethan nodded politely, then handed over the permission slip.
"That's right. I'm not from that department, but I've been tasked with something that requires computer access."
The man adjusted his glasses and scrutinized the slip. Especially the red inked stamp—he double-checked it several times, perhaps to make sure it wasn't some amateur forgery.
Eventually, he gave a reluctant grunt.
"Why would a non-CS student need to use the lab anyway? These machines aren't toys. Do you even know how to use them?"
Ethan offered a friendly smile.
"Yes, I've worked with computers before. This is for a project I'm helping the professor with."
The man sighed.
"Alright, you can go in."
He wasn't really a teacher—just a gatekeeper. But seeing the signature and hearing Ethan was helping a professor, he didn't want to block someone on official business.
Besides, if he held things up and it caused issues later, he would be the one in trouble.
Still, he made sure to issue a final warning:
"Be sure to take off your shoes and wear a static-guard cap."
"Of course—thank you!"
Ethan immediately removed his shoes, swapped into the special anti-static footwear at the lab entrance, then carefully donned a static cap.
He even turned back to give the gatekeeper a polite nod, making sure the man saw he was following protocol.
Hearing Ethan call him "sir" so respectfully multiple times, the man couldn't help but smile slightly. Even if he still had his doubts, he was beginning to warm to the kid.