The front door closed behind Adrian.
The sound reached the sitting room, followed by several seconds of silence.
Rafael remained beside the coffee table, where the unsigned representation agreement lay among two cups of coffee that had gone cold. Bell’s expensive cologne still lingered in the room, mixing with the faint smell of paper and the antiseptic scent clinging to his mother’s hospital uniform.
His mother stood across from him with her arms folded.
"What just happened?"
Rafael looked down at the contract. "I told him no."
"I heard that part." Exhaustion darkened the skin beneath her eyes, but suspicion kept her gaze sharp. "Last night, you could barely sit still because he was coming. You said signing with him would change everything. This morning, you accused him of planning to steal from you because of a dream."
"I didn’t accuse him of stealing."
"You mentioned false investments and management charges."
Rafael rubbed his thumb across his palm.
He had allowed too much anger into his confrontation with Bell. The accusations belonged to another life, supported by investigators, bank records and years of missing money. In this sitting room, they were nothing more than claims made by a frightened seventeen-year-old.
"The dream scared me," he said. "After I woke up, I read the contract again."
"You understood all of that from one contract?"
"No. That’s the problem."
His mother’s expression shifted slightly.
Rafael tapped the representation agreement. "I don’t understand enough of it to sign, but Bell wants control over negotiations, sponsorships and commercial decisions. He also brought the solicitor who said everything was safe. If they both work for him, who is checking what protects us?"
His mother glanced at the papers.
"That doesn’t prove he would steal from you."
"It doesn’t," Rafael admitted. "But I don’t need proof that he’s a criminal to refuse to give him that much control."
That answer sounded more reasonable, although Rafael could tell she remained unsettled.
"What exactly did you see in this dream?" she asked.
"Nothing clear." Rafael lowered his gaze before she could search his face. "Contracts I couldn’t leave, money disappearing and everyone telling me not to worry until it was too late. It felt real when I woke up. Real enough that signing today seemed stupid."
It was not the truth, but it contained enough of it to hold together.
His mother looked toward the sitting-room door through which Bell had departed. "I never trusted him."
The admission surprised Rafael even though he remembered her questioning Bell.
"Why didn’t you say anything?"
"I did." Her voice sharpened. "I asked whether we should find our own solicitor, and you told me Adrian already had one. When I said we should wait, you said the club might change its mind."
Those had been Bell’s words before Rafael repeated them as though they were his own.
His mother unfolded her arms. "Does rejecting him mean you’re giving up football?"
"No."
"He said you needed him if you wanted Metz to offer you a professional contract."
"He would say that. It makes us afraid to send him away."
"Then what happens now?"
"I keep training."
Rafael nodded toward the burgundy academy jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
"I rejected an agent, not Metz. I’m still registered with the academy, and Bell has nothing to do with whether I can train or play for the under-nineteens. If the club wants to discuss a professional contract later, we can find another agent before then."
His mother watched him carefully. "And how do we know the next one is trustworthy?"
"We don’t. We find our own solicitor and have every document checked before either of us signs."
"When did you become an expert on football contracts?"
"I’m not." Rafael met her eyes. "That is why I shouldn’t sign one today."
For the first time since Bell left, his mother had no immediate response.
She looked down at the contract again. "Last night, you would have signed without reading the first page."
"I know."
"What changed?"
"I got frightened."
That answer was easier for her to accept than sudden wisdom. Rafael allowed his shoulders to tighten and looked away, letting her see the uncertainty a seventeen-year-old should have felt.
His mother stepped around the coffee table and gathered the contracts. She did not tear them apart. Instead, she straightened the pages and returned them to the folder Bell had brought.
"We’re not signing anything today," she said.
"Good."
"And before you speak to another agent, we find someone independent to examine everything."
Rafael nodded. "All right."
"No complaining about the cost."
"I won’t."
She tucked the folder beneath one arm. Fatigue finally settled back across her face.
"You have training this afternoon."
Rafael glanced toward the clock.
"I should get ready."
"You should eat first."
"I will."
His mother studied him for another second, still trying to understand what had changed between the previous night and that morning. Rafael gave her nothing else to examine. He picked up one of the cold coffee cups and carried it toward the kitchen.
When he returned upstairs, the folded burgundy Metz training kit waited on a chair beside his wardrobe.
A white number had begun peeling from the shorts, while the shirt carried the club crest over its chest. Beneath the chair sat his old black boots, their leather creased across the toes and dried mud lodged around the studs.
Seeing the kit reminded him where he stood in his career.
He was seventeen years old, registered with FC Metz and training with the U19 squad. He had not yet played senior football, signed a professional contract or suffered the first injury that would begin altering how he moved.
For everyone else, it was an ordinary training day.
Rafael reached for the phone on his bedside table.
The device felt awkward in his hand. Its screen was smaller than he remembered, with physical buttons beneath it and a scratched plastic casing around the edges. His thumb moved automatically toward a place where no fingerprint sensor existed.
Then he remembered.
This was his old phone.
Rafael pressed the side button and waited for the screen to brighten. He attempted to swipe through the menu before remembering that the buttons controlled it. After one wrong selection, his thumb found the academy calendar.
Training began that afternoon.
Before he could put the phone down, pale blue light gathered in front of him.
The transparent panel formed soundlessly across his vision.
[Mission Completed: Decide on Your Football Future.]
A second message appeared beneath it.
[Reward Pending.]
[Claim Reward?]
Rafael read the question twice. The System had given him no assistance while Bell sat downstairs. It had merely set an objective and waited for him to make the decision himself.
He focused on the option to accept.
[Reward Claimed.]
[All Attributes +1.]
Warmth spread from the centre of his chest.
It moved through his shoulders, hips and legs before fading into his muscles. Rafael shifted his weight, and his balance corrected with slightly less effort. Nothing hurt, but his body felt more responsive, as though the stiffness left by sleep had disappeared.
Another window opened.
[PLAYER STATUS]
Name: Rafael Morales
Age: 17
Club: FC Metz
Squad: U19
Position: Striker
Secondary Position: Left Forward
Preferred Foot: Right
Overall Rating: 61 → 62
TECHNICAL
Ball Control: 64 → 65
First Touch: 65 → 66
Dribbling: 62 → 63
Finishing: 66 → 67
Shot Power: 60 → 61
Long Shots: 54 → 55
Volleys: 58 → 59
Heading Accuracy: 61 → 62
Short Passing: 59 → 60
Long Passing: 48 → 49
Crossing: 50 → 51
Curve: 52 → 53
Free-Kick Accuracy: 43 → 44
Penalty Taking: 63 → 64
MENTAL
Off-Ball Movement: 66 → 67
Anticipation: 63 → 64
Reactions: 64 → 65
Composure: 61 → 62
Vision: 55 → 56
Decision-Making: 58 → 59
Teamwork: 57 → 58
Work Rate: 59 → 60
Aggression: 52 → 53
Determination: 72 → 73
PHYSICAL
Acceleration: 70 → 71
Sprint Speed: 72 → 73
Agility: 68 → 69
Balance: 64 → 65
Stamina: 59 → 60
Strength: 55 → 56
Jumping: 62 → 63
Natural Fitness: 70 → 71
DEFENSIVE
Interceptions: 30 → 31
Defensive Awareness: 28 → 29
Standing Tackle: 31 → 32
Sliding Tackle: 26 → 27
Goalkeeping: 8 → 9
Weak Foot: 3/5
Skill Moves: 3/5
Rafael examined every line.
The numbers showed a promising academy striker rather than an elite player. His acceleration and sprint speed were his greatest physical strengths, while his finishing, first touch and movement explained why Metz still considered him a serious prospect.
However, there were obvious weaknesses. He lacked strength, his passing remained ordinary and his decision-making had not caught up with his physical ability.
A talented seventeen-year-old with room to improve.
The reward had not transformed him. He felt slightly lighter and more balanced, but one additional point in each attribute would not carry him into the professional team.
His real advantage could not be reduced to one number.
He understood how experienced defenders encouraged young strikers to move into useless areas. He knew when to attack a centre-back’s blind side, when to check toward the ball and when remaining still could create more space than another sprint.
The status window displayed the tools available to him.
He still had to use them properly.
Rafael dismissed the panel and began changing for training.