naaapseattle Chapter 307 307: Do Not Open
Chapter 307 307: Do Not Open
"I can't, Boss!" Arthur wailed, looking like a man drowning in a sea of A4 paper. "It's the agents! They smell blood! They smell the Champions League money! It's like feeding time at the shark tank!"Kenji Sato was pacing the room. The billionaire owner wasn't wearing his usual silk kimono or flight suit. He was wearing a grey hoodie, hood up, looking like an angry teenager.
"Ungrateful," Kenji muttered, kicking a wastepaper basket. "I buy them a plane. A purple plane with massage seats! I buy them a stadium! I buy them a butcher from Argentina! And this is how they repay me?"
Michael picked up the top sheet of paper.
OFFER: PARIS SAINT-GERMAIN
TARGET: KAITO TANAKA
FEE: £80,000,000
WAGE: "Whatever he wants + A Penthouse near the Eiffel Tower."
Michael felt a physical punch in his gut. Eighty million. For a kid he found in the J-League reserves.
He picked up the next sheet.
OFFER: JUVENTUS
TARGET: ENZO MORETTI
FEE: £65,000,000
PITCH: "Come home, Maestro. The coffee in England is a crime against humanity."
And the third.
OFFER: CHELSEA FC
TARGET: JAX
FEE: £100,000,000 (Installments over 8 years)
PITCH: "London Vibes. Fashion Week. More TikTok followers."
Michael dropped the papers. It wasn't just one player. It was the spine of his team. The Empire he had built, brick by chaotic brick, was being dismantled by vultures with deeper pockets.
"Why?" Michael asked the room. "Why now? We just beat Real Madrid. We are the coolest team in the world. We have a manga!"
"Because we are a stepping stone, Boss," Arthur sniffed, wiping his nose with a rejection letter from Bayern Munich. "We are the cute little club they date before they marry the rich old guy."
"Fuck that," Michael stood up. "I'm not a stepping stone. I'm the destination."
The door slammed open.
Bastion King walked in. The new offensive coach looked like he had wrestled a bear and won. He was covered in mud (again) and holding a half-eaten protein bar.
"They're distracted," Bastion growled. "Training was shit. Kaito is looking at his phone. Enzo is arguing with his agent in Italian. Jax is filming a 'goodbye' video just in case."
Bastion spat on the carpet.
"Sell them," Bastion said. "Sell them all. I'll play the Under-18s against Dortmund. At least they'll run."
"We can't sell them, Bastion!" Kenji shouted. "My brand! My merchandise! The Kaito body pillows just arrived from Tokyo!"
Michael looked at the chaos. The fax machine screamed again.
"Enough," Michael said quietly.
He walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" Arthur squeaked.
"To the sauna," Michael said. "If they want to leave, they have to look me in the eye while sweating."
The Sauna of Truth
The recovery suite at the Barnsley complex was state-of-the-art. Gold taps. Mood lighting. Smelled of eucalyptus and money.
Inside the cedar-wood sauna, the heat was suffocating.
Sitting on the top bench, wrapped in towels, were Kaito Tanaka, Enzo Moretti, and Jax.
They were silent. The air was thick with guilt.
The door opened. Steam billowed out.
Michael Sterling walked in. He wasn't wearing a towel. He was wearing his suit trousers and shirt, sleeves rolled up, tie loose. He didn't care about the heat. He sat on the bottom bench, directly opposite them.
He didn't speak. He just stared.
Kaito fidgeted. Enzo studied his fingernails. Jax pretended to be asleep.
"So," Michael said finally, his voice calm but dangerous. "Paris. Turin. London."
Kaito flinched. "Boss... it is not like that."
"It's exactly like that, Kaito," Michael leaned forward, sweat already beading on his forehead. "Eighty million. That's a lot of sushi."
"It is not about the money!" Kaito blurted out. "It is... it is the imposter syndrome, Boss."
Michael blinked. "The what?"
Kaito looked down at his knees. "I am fast. Yes. I scored against Madrid. Yes. But... I am just a guy from the J-League. PSG? They have Hakimi. They have Dembele. If I go there, I am a star. If I stay here... what if I stop scoring? What if the magic runs out?"
He looked up, eyes wet.
"If I leave now, I leave as a hero. If I stay and fail... I become a joke."
Michael absorbed this. It was fear. Pure, unadulterated fear of the fall.
He turned to Enzo.
"And you? The coffee?"
Enzo sighed. He looked tired. "Boss, Juventus is royalty. My grandfather supported Juventus. To wear the black and white... it is destiny. Here? Here is good. But it is Barnsley. It is raining. Always raining."
"And you, Jax?" Michael looked at the teenager.
Jax opened one eye. "Chelsea has good lighting, Boss. And rappers go to the games. Here... the only celebrity is the local butcher who gives Diego free sausages."
Michael nodded slowly.
He stood up. The heat was intense now. His shirt was clinging to his back.
"I get it," Michael said. "I really do. You guys want safety. You want the guaranteed legacy."
He walked to the heater and poured a ladle of water onto the rocks.
HISSSSS.
The steam exploded, filling the room with a white fog.
"But let me tell you something," Michael's voice cut through the mist. "At PSG, Kaito, you will be just another fast winger. They will buy a new one next year. At Juventus, Enzo, you will be part of a system that has existed for a hundred years. You will be a cog."
He pointed at Jax through the steam.
"And at Chelsea? You'll be on loan to Vitesse Arnhem within six months."
"That is true," Jax whispered, looking terrified. "The loan army is scary."
"Here," Michael spread his arms. "We are building a statue of you, Kaito. An actual statue. Kenji already bought the bronze."
Kaito looked up. "Bronze? Not plastic?"
"Solid bronze. With the hamstrings highlighted in gold."
Michael stepped closer.
"You want to leave because you're scared we peaked. You think beating Real Madrid was the top of the mountain."
He laughed. A dry, humorless sound.
"That wasn't the top. That was base camp. We haven't even started climbing yet. We have the Butcher's son coming. We have a stadium being built. We have a Dynasty."
He looked Kaito in the eye.
"Do you want to be a hero for a season? Or do you want to be a God forever?"
The sauna was silent, save for the hiss of the rocks.
Enzo wiped sweat from his beard. He looked at Kaito. Kaito looked at Jax.
"The coffee..." Enzo muttered. "Kenji bought a new machine. It is... acceptable."
"And the statue," Kaito whispered. "Gold hamstrings?"
"24 karat," Michael lied (he would make Kenji pay for it).
Jax sat up. "And Chelsea... they are kind of mid right now. No vibes."
Michael didn't smile. Not yet.
"I'm not forcing you," Michael said. "If you want to go, go. I'll drive you to the airport in the Batmobile. I'll sell you tomorrow."
He turned to the door.
"But if you leave... don't check the scores. Because when we lift the Champions League trophy without you, it's going to hurt like a motherfucker."
He opened the door and walked out into the cool air of the locker room.
The Aftermath
Michael leaned against the lockers, gasping for air. He felt like he had just run a marathon in a furnace.
Arthur was standing there, holding a towel and a glass of water.
"Did it work?" Arthur whispered.
"I don't know," Michael drank the water in one gulp. "I offered Kaito gold hamstrings. I think I committed fraud."
Suddenly, the sauna door opened.
The three players walked out. They were red-faced, sweating, and looking solemn.
Enzo walked up to Michael. He extended a hand.
"I stay," Enzo said. "Fuck Juventus. They are old ladies. I like the Misfits."
Kaito nodded furiously. "I stay too, Boss. I want the statue. And I want to see Diego eat a German."
Jax pulled out his phone. "I stay. Loyalty era. Let's go."
Michael felt the tension drain out of his body. He slumped against the locker.
"Good," Michael exhaled. "Now go shower. You smell like fear and eucalyptus."
They walked away towards the showers, towels snapping, laughing nervously.
"Gold hamstrings!" Kaito was shouting. "I will be shiny!"
Kenji Sato burst into the locker room. "Michael! The fax machine! It is still printing! Manchester City just bid for Arthur!"
Arthur froze. "Me?"
"Yes! They want you as 'Head of Hydration'! £500 a week!"
"Tell them to fuck off," Arthur said bravely, popping a jelly baby. "I'm not a hydration expert. I'm a Dynasty Assistant."
Michael laughed. He put his arm around Arthur.
"Kenji," Michael said. "Unplug the fax machine. Throw it in the lake."
"But the paper..."
"Let the ducks read it. We aren't selling anyone."
Michael looked at the team list on the wall. The names were still there.
Tanaka. Moretti. Jax.
They had wobbled. They had looked over the edge. But they had stepped back.
"Why do they want to leave?" Michael murmured to himself, echoing his earlier despair.
"They don't," Arthur smiled, offering Michael a red jelly baby. "They just wanted to know if you loved them enough to stop them."
"I hate how smart you are sometimes, Arthur."
"It's the sugar, Boss. It fuels the brain."