Captain Hamsik had called to invite him to a “private party.” The implication was clear.
Luca declined politely.
“Captain, I’m not 18 yet.
Can’t drink.
I’d just kill the mood.
You guys have fun.”
Hamsik laughed.
“Fine, fine.
Good kid!
Keep it up.”
A couple of days later, Jorginho showed up, mysterious.
“Luca, I know a place.
Amazing.
The girls are very…
friendly.
It will open your eyes.
Come relax?”
Luca did not know whether to laugh or cry.
“João, you and the captain told me women slow down your shooting.
Told me to focus on football.
Now you’re dragging me in?”
Jorginho grinned and lowered his voice.
“That’s the public line.
Privately…
sometimes you need to unwind.
Don’t worry.
I’ll look after you.”
Luca shook his head firmly.
“Thanks, João.
I’m really not going.
My extra training isn’t finished.”
“Tch.
You live like a nun.” Jorginho shook his head but did not push.
He patted Luca’s solid shoulder.
“Your muscles are growing fast, though.
The extra work is paying off.”
Luca watched Jorginho leave and thought to himself: Enjoy it while you can.
There will be headaches later.
He remembered some of the midfielder’s future off-field troubles.
His social media followers passed 500,000 during the break.
The attention was intoxicating.
He occasionally browsed comments and DMs, replying to interesting messages.
On the streets, recognition and requests for photos grew.
From surprise to habit, he enjoyed the novelty of fame.
“Maybe this feeling never gets old.”
He thought that sometimes.
Then he smiled and shook his head.
Who knew what the future held?
For now, he was enjoying it.
One week of vacation passed in a blink.
September arrived.
The schedule tightened.
Champions League group stage began.
Napoli faced six official matches in September.
One every five days.
The intensity spiked.
Luca was not nervous.
Nerves were useless.
He continued his daily grind, converting pressure into iron and sweat.
On September 8, the sustained strength training produced a breakthrough.
[ding!
Ibrahimović’s Physicality fusion progress significantly increased.
Current progress: 20% → 30%.]
[Strength: 73 → 78.]
[Core stability, duel balance, and physical resilience significantly enhanced.]
[Ibrahimović: You are beginning to truly understand and command the power of this body.
In high-difficulty technical actions, your base is more stable, your center of gravity more secure.
Against opponent impacts, you are like a reef, unmoved.
Remember Ibrahimović’s teaching: against provocation, no need for words.
Crush them with your body and your performance.]
A surging sense of power flooded through him.
Especially his core and lower body.
Explosive energy.
Luca looked in the gym mirror.
Even in training gear, he could see the clearer, harder lines of his chest, shoulders, and arms.
No longer just lean.
Covered with a layer of lean, powerful muscle.
“Now anyone who wants to body me has to think twice about my hips.” Luca smiled.
His style was shifting.
A bit like Hazard.
Agile, but with a core strong enough to carry defenders through a dribble.
After training, he ate his nutritionist-designed muscle-building meal and scrolled through social media DMs.
Among the flood, several explicit photos popped up.
Sent by a verified account labeled “Italian adult film actress.”
Luca’s hand jerked.
Almost dropped his chicken breast.
“What the…” He frowned, gave them a critical look, then hit report.
Reason: “Sending inappropriate content to a minor.”
One motion.
Done.
Most DMs were fan messages.
He replied politely to a few representative ones.
Then he noticed something unexpected.
His follow list had new verified footballer accounts.
One message caught his eye.
Sender: Andrea Pirlo
Verified: Footballer, Legendary Midfielder
Content: “Hi Luca.
Watched your passing in the last two matches.
Excellent.
Especially your vision and technique.
Keep going.
Italian football needs minds like yours.
We should talk football sometime. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
:)”
Andrea Pirlo.
The legend.
The maestro.
Luca’s heart raced.
He calmed himself, organized his thoughts, and replied carefully.
“Good afternoon, Mr.
Pirlo!
I can’t believe I’m receiving this message!
It’s a huge honor!
Your match footage is my textbook.
Your control of passing tempo and spatial awareness is the level I chase every day.
Thank you for the encouragement!
If I could receive any guidance from you, it would be the greatest reward.
[smile emoji]”
He sent it and waited, nervous.
Minutes later, Pirlo replied.
Casual.
Like chatting with a friend.
“Don’t be so formal, Luca.
Call me Andrea.
I can see you have your own understanding of passing.
Not just imitation.
That outstep long ball especially.
Bold.
Well-timed.
But have you thought about situations where the defense is set but slightly loose?
Maybe carry the ball a few steps into the center and play a faster ground pass instead of the curled ball.
Would that disrupt their rhythm more?
I think the curled ball has high risk of failure.
Just my thought.
Your choice was perfect in that moment.”
Luca’s eyes lit up.
He replied immediately.
“You’re absolutely right!
There was real risk.
If I had carried it a few steps and played a faster ground pass, even with slightly higher interception risk, if it got through, Mertens could shoot directly.
Possibly more dangerous.
Sometimes on the pitch, I see an opportunity and just want to pass.
I might miss sharper options.
Thank you for the reminder!”
They talked for nearly half an hour.
Passing timing.
Lane selection.
Reading defender balance.
Pirlo was down-to-earth, sharing valuable experience and unique insights from his career.
The conversation was worth more than many training sessions.
When it ended, Luca was still buzzing.
Recognition and guidance from a legend.
The greatest validation of his hard work.
And a deeper understanding of football.