Chapter 11: If They Approach Like That (4)

The next day, Sébastien and I ran into the three we didn't want to see right from the entrance of the training ground.

"Looks like you're going to keep going?"

It was Liam Grant's first words after a week.

"Of course! Do you know how hard it is to find such a good client? Quitting would be foolish."

I answered while staring at Liam Grant directly. The expressions of the other two, excluding Liam, turned grim. When Liam chuckled, the other two awkwardly followed suit and forced a laugh.

"Yeah, good luck."

Liam Grant said that and then disappeared into the training ground.

After calming down a nervous Sébastien, I sent him to the dressing room after some time.

Then, I checked the information I had gathered about the "nuclear waste trio" for the eleventh time.

The information about Kevin McGregor and Daniel Knight was completely useless. However,

[Liam Grant]

Has ongoing sexual relations with a minor.

"Lucky!"

Finally, I had information I could use against him.

"I've got you this time, you bastard."

In any normal country, sexual relations with a minor are dealt with under strict laws. England was no different.

He was indeed a scumbag, even if he was submerged in filth.

I couldn't contain my overflowing joy and grinned as I entered the field. Once I gathered enough evidence, I could definitely strike back hard.

However, the world doesn't work that easily.

The coach and Liam Grant were entering the field together.

"No filming for a while."

It was a brief briefing before training. The coach looked straight at me as he said this. He then proceeded to explain slowly to the other agency representatives, excluding me.

"There was a leak of tactics in the last match, so we've decided to enhance security, and reporters from outside official channels will be barred from entry."

It was a plausible excuse, but why did it seem aimed at me?

I glared at Liam Grant, who seemed to be mocking me, and my suspicion turned into certainty.

So you're going to start moving for real? You're planning to do something you shouldn't, even getting the coach involved?

Hah...

I didn't know much about the basic training, but if a situation arose where I had to clash with them, it was clear that Sébastien would be tormented both mentally and physically.

Still, I couldn't just let it happen.

The recording device I had bought yesterday had been running for a while now.

The players were sprinting out to the field for running drills. After wishing Sébastien well, I pulled out my notebook filled with information on the trio and wondered how I could use it.

Since they struck first, I needed to hit back as well.

I asked the coach what the main training would be after the basic drills (which included a passing drill with pairs and ball control training).

"It's defensive organization training."

His terse response prompted me to pat his back as a gesture of thanks.

After the basic training was done, it was break time, and Sébastien approached me.

I handed him a drink and a towel.

"Seb."

"Yes?"

The defensive organization training was something I had seen about twice over the past week. It only used half the field, with the first team focusing solely on defensive plays like the defensive line and man-marking, while the second team attacked with various patterns to break through the defensive line.

The player Sébastien would originally be clashing with was the left-back Kevin McGregor, who had been a disaster last time, but since that day, he seemed to have lost his mental strength, resulting in a poor performance and a substitute player coming in as the left defender.

I didn't have any feelings toward that player; my focus was on the center-back.

"You're going to face Daniel Knight, right?"

"Ah... yes."

"When you face him, aim for a central breakthrough. Specifically, to the right side of Daniel Knight. If you go central, the second team's striker will pull wide, right?"

"That's right, but..."

"That guy can't keep up with quick movements to the left."

"What?"

Sébastien's eyes seemed to ask how I knew that. Since break time was short, I continued speaking.

"I know you like to dribble along the right touchline and cross, but this time play like Messi or Robben. The left-back is a dummy, so you can ignore him."

"Easier said than done."

"You can do it. Look at the opponent."

I pointed at Daniel Knight as if he were an object, and my tone made Sébastien chuckle.

"How do you know stuff like that?"

"I didn't come all the way here just to work at an agency for nothing. Just trust me this once."

"Okay, I'll trust you. But shouldn't I focus on that dummy left-back to shine? Honestly, I can get past him easily."

Sébastien seemed a bit mistaken.

"I don't care if you shine. Even if you perform well in training, the coach won't put you in. I just want you to feel good. Those guys are going to torment you; you should strike first."

"Oh, I see..."

"Right, just taking hits will only frustrate you. Go out there and unleash your stress. If you feel mentally drained... you know what to do."

"Yes!"

Sébastien showed me his trustworthy back as he went out onto the field.

[Daniel Knight]

Right ankle sprain not fully healed: Requires a week of treatment.

I had gotten this information a few days ago.

That guy had gone out to play even in that condition. It was obvious his condition had worsened.

Due to the nature of defenders' diagonal positioning, if Sébastien, who was the right winger, aimed for a central breakthrough, that would put more weight on Daniel Knight's left side.

As a logical result, his reaction speed would naturally slow down.

Beep!

With the whistle of the coach, who was serving as the temporary referee, training began.

The central midfielders of the second team, Sébastien's team, passed the ball among themselves and then sent a long pass to Sébastien.

The intention was obvious.

A pass targeting the space behind the dummy left-back.

Sébastien dashed with his short legs and received the ball from behind the left-back. Under normal circumstances, he would cross it immediately.

But Sébastien lightly sidestepped the sliding tackle from the dummy left-back, moving into the center.

And the next opponent was our target, center-back Daniel Knight.

Daniel Knight wore a sinister smile.

He was probably planning to pull some dirty tricks.

Sébastien feinted right in front of Daniel Knight and then cut left.

For an ordinary defender, it was an average speed that could be tracked. However,

"Daniel!"

The coach's shout came too late. Daniel Knight had already been bypassed by Sébastien. As expected, he was unable to react quickly due to the weight shifted to his right ankle.

Sébastien used both feet to dribble, creating an angle to strike with his right foot and shot straight.

Beep!

"Nice!"

It's a goal!

In the defensive organization training for the first team, everyone looked dazed, perhaps because it had been too easy to break through.

I gave a thumbs up to Sébastien, who responded with a proud smile.

"Are you not focused?! Do you want to sit on the bench?!"

The coach was angry. It seemed he was even more upset about the fact that we had scored against them.

As if focusing wouldn't matter at all.

"Uaaaaaaaaah!"

The scream of Daniel Knight echoed through the stadium once again.

One, two, three... about seven times.

This time, Sébastien feigned a central breakthrough, and when Daniel Knight got excited and reached out his foot, he dashed straight down the right and delivered a cross.

Now, that's a classic winger. A fantastic dribble followed by a powerful run and a beautiful cross to finish the play. Wow!

The cross curved sharply and reached the head of the striker positioned in the center, and naturally, the ball went straight into the goal.

In just 15 minutes, the opposing team had conceded six goals.

During a defensive training session, the attack was so overwhelming that they were unable to practice effectively.

"Enough! Enough! All defenders, gather!"

The first-team players started to get scolded by the coach.

As I watched the coach shouting at the players, I thought to myself. That guy is seriously incompetent. Instead of thinking about tactical adjustments, he just keeps dissing them for not focusing. If he had just narrowed the gaps between the defenders, they wouldn't have been torn apart so easily.

"Damn! Just as I said it would happen!"

Before I knew it, Sébastien approached me, extending his palm. I smiled and high-fived him. The cheerful sound echoed across the field.

The piercing gaze of Liam Grant among the first-team players was intense.

I confidently smiled back at him.

This was a declaration of my intent not to lose to them.

Soon after, once the coach's furious command ended, the first-team players dispersed. Liam Grant and Kevin McGregor, who had been resting in the corner, approached us.

One of the trio was nowhere to be seen, and as I scanned the field, I saw Daniel Knight still being chewed out by the coach.

Good, good.

But my good mood quickly faded.

"Ugh... the stench. It's worse with two monkeys together."

The two waste products muttered as they passed us. Sébastien, who had been lively like a puppy in love just moments ago, shrank back in an instant. I felt my mood sour too. When I read racially charged terms in articles, it didn't bother me much, but hearing it face to face felt disgusting.

But I still caught one fish. The recorder was still running. It was a high-capacity, high-quality recorder that could record all day without running out of space. I bought it at a steep price.

I opened my mouth to leave evidence that they were talking to us.

"What do you mean we smell? Liam Grant, Kevin McGregor."

As I unnecessarily dropped their names, Kevin McGregor frowned and muttered again.

Liam Grant just ignored me and smirked as he walked past.

He added one last line.

"Hope you have a good night."

"Hey! Come out!"

It had been fine until I bought the recorder, had dinner at a Spanish restaurant, and returned home.

"Come out! You monkey!"

The next hour had also been okay.

"Don't stay in there, come out!"

From the moment the sun went down, I heard threats from people I had never seen before outside. I realized why interpreters couldn't stand it and left. There must have been people who endured like me for a week, but with threats like this, it made sense.

I quickly understood why Liam Grant wished me a good night.

"Hey, yellow! Hey, yellow!"

Now they were even singing songs.

I peeked through the curtain to see the people outside.

I couldn't see Liam Grant and his crew, but they were definitely connected. They all bore the common mark of seagulls breathing fire, whether it was in tattoos or their clothing.

What was it? Naming sense and all.

I filmed enough footage with my camcorder and pressed the call button.

"Hello, is this the police station?"

"The seagull tattoo? Was it breathing fire?"

"Yes, that's right."

As I earnestly explained the circumstances to the responding officers, their expressions soured as soon as I mentioned the mark.

What showed on their faces was fear.

The guys causing trouble scattered the moment they saw the police car, so not a single one was caught.

"We don't even know how to handle these guys... If they come back, please contact us."

And after the police left to respond to another incident, the troublemakers gathered again and got louder.

Now they were even banging on my house door and windows.

I dismantled a clothes hanger and fashioned a makeshift club, trembling a little, just a little, inside my room. Sébastien wasn't answering his phone. I hoped he was asleep.

I called the police a few more times, and they did rush over every time I contacted them, but once they left, the troublemakers repeated their racket.

Thus, the night passed.

"....."

The sunlight shining on Sébastien's face the next morning was truly pitiful.

He looked drained, as if he hadn't slept properly, with dark circles under his eyes, and most of all, he looked extremely angry.

His beloved Audi, which he had affectionately named the "Blue Eagle," had a dented bumper and shattered windows.

In front of our house, monkeys had been painted in red spray paint.

Honestly, I was scared too, but how much worse must it be for him? He must have experienced things like this several times. If it were me, I would have canceled the contract and gone back home long ago.

Sébastien stood silently for nearly ten minutes, grinding his teeth and mumbling.

"I've never had anything like this happen before... I'm sorry..."

I patted Sébastien's shoulder. As I did, tears streamed down both of his cheeks.

Watching him, I realized something I had forgotten.

I had assumed that Sébastien would naturally want to stay with this team for the remainder of the season. That's why I had acted as I did. But that was merely an assumption; I had never heard it directly from Sébastien's lips.

"I'm sorry to ask at such a time, but..."

I believe an agent should prioritize the 'will of the player' above all else. Helping the player achieve what they want is the essence of being an agent.

"Do you want to keep going to training, enduring this humiliation?"