From A Producer To A Global Superstar

"Ready."

"Go!"

Coach Richard blew the whistle sharply, and Dayo dove straight into the water.

Right away, Richard noticed something unusual — the reaction time. It was faster than before. Much faster. There was no hesitation in Dayo's launch, no delay between whistle and movement. It was clean, sharp, explosive.

Dayo cut through the water with ease, pushing left across the lane.

His form was… different. More refined, more controlled, yet somehow more powerful. Even his turns were cleaner. Richard watched him, unable to hide his growing confusion.

This wasn't a normal improvement.

Not even close.

A few seconds later, Dayo hit the wall with a slap that echoed lightly in the empty pool room.

Richard pressed the stopwatch.

He stared at the time.

His eyes widened.

His jaw dropped slightly.

He looked again, thinking maybe his finger slipped or he misread something.

Nope.

Same result.

"What…?" he whispered.

He couldn't even speak. The number blinking on the stopwatch didn't make sense. It didn't align with any logic he'd ever known about sprint swimming or training improvements. Dayo's speed didn't just increase — it skyrocketed.

Meanwhile, Dayo climbed out of the pool, towel around his shoulders, grinning.

"Coach, how did I do?"

No response.

Richard was completely frozen.

Dayo walked closer and tapped him lightly. "Coach? You good?"

Richard snapped out of it like someone waking from a trance.

"Uh— yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"So, what's my time?" Dayo asked again, unable to hide how excited he was. After all, he'd recently received a massive upgrade. He knew something would change — he just didn't know by how much.

Hehe of course he knew a from an A+ athlete to an S a whole two improvement.

Richard didn't speak. He simply turned the stopwatch around and showed the result.

Dayo blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then his mouth slowly stretched into a smile.

"Ha! Nice."

"Nice?" Richard repeated, baffled. "Dayo… this is beyond nice. This is ridiculous. If I didn't know you well, I would swear you were using something."

Dayo laughed. "Thanks, Coach. Oh yeah, and I wanted to ask something."

Richard walked toward the bench and sat, leaving space for Dayo beside him. "Alright. What is it this time?"

"It's about trying other lengths."

Richard looked at him for a long moment before letting out a helpless sigh.

"If this were months ago, I'd have said no immediately. But seeing this…" He shook his head. "You're not normal. So, yes, you can—"

"Thank you, Coach!" Dayo interrupted quickly.

"Let me finish." Richard shot him a look.

"Okay, okay," Dayo raised his hands in surrender.

"You can try other lengths," Richard continued, "but only if you hit this exact time again. Prove this wasn't a fluke."

"Deal, Coach. I'm ready."

Richard followed him back to the pool, still half in disbelief.

The whistle blew again.

And Dayo flew.

When Richard checked the stopwatch again, he nearly dropped it.

Dayo beat his previous time.

By a comfortable margin.

Richard's head spun. "This… this doesn't make sense," he muttered. If he didn't personally know Dayo — the boy's work ethic, discipline, routine, entire life — he would have assumed drugs. But even enhancers couldn't push someone this far. Not in this way. Not this fast.

This wasn't science.

This was talent. Pure, terrifying talent.

"Alright," Richard finally said, rubbing his forehead. "Fine. You can start training for other lengths."

"Thanks, Coach! And does this mean I could participate in the Olympics?"

Richard froze mid-step.

"Huh? No, of course not."

"Why not?" Dayo asked innocently.

Richard frowned. "Because the Trials have already been held."

Dayo tilted his head and gave a small, almost mischievous smile. "And what if most of the athletes were found using enhancers?"

Richard blinked sharply.

"What?"

"And what if," Dayo continued calmly, "the next athlete in line was also using?"

Richard slowly stood straighter. "Then the next person would be chosen."

"And if that person didn't meet Olympic qualifying time?"

Richard went completely blank.

He stared at Dayo.

"Talk to me properly," he said. "What are you trying to imply?"

Dayo's smirk grew. "What if I told you that more than fifty percent of the athletes in the heats were on enhancers?"

Richard's voice shot up. "That—that's impossible!"

Dayo shrugged. "Time will prove it."

"How?" Richard demanded, trying to wrap his head around it. "Dayo, the drug tests improve every year."

"Oh, Coach, you know why," Dayo replied softly.

"The investment governments put into anti-doping tests and the money private labs pour into enhancement tech are not on the same level. Some of these labs are five, ten years ahead. Even if they detect something, it'll be too late."

Richard sat down heavily.

This topic cut deep — very deep.

He was fired from the national team years ago over a doping scandal he didn't commit. This brought back memories he didn't want to revisit.

"So," Richard whispered, "do you have evidence?"

"No," Dayo said. "Not yet."

Richard stared. "Then what's the plan?"

Dayo checked his watch and smiled faintly.

"I'll get the evidence. It's just a matter of time."

"Huh?"

Before Richard could ask anything else, Dayo's phone rang.

The caller ID made Dayo smile.

— Max —

"Hello, Max."

"Boss."

"Is it done?"

"Yes, boss. It's done."

"Any complications?"

"None. They didn't even realize anything."

"Good," Dayo said. "Regroup. I'll tell you what to do with the evidence soon."

"Alright, boss."

"Good work."

"Thank you."

Dayo ended the call and turned to Richard.

"Coach," he said calmly, "it's done."

"What's done?" Richard asked.

"The evidence has been acquired."

Richard's eyes widened. "Oh wow… so what happens next?"

"Well," Dayo said, wiping his hair with the towel, "I just need to handle it carefully. If this leaks the wrong way, they'll realize someone's digging. So I need this to go smoothly."

Richard nodded slowly. "Be careful. And if you need help, tell me. I still know a few clean coaches."

"I'll keep that in mind." Dayo smiled.

They continued training like nothing had happened, but both their minds were somewhere else entirely.

Later that evening, Dayo drove home, quiet, thoughtful, replaying everything in his head — the timing, the scandal, the evidence Max obtained.

As he parked and stepped out, he muttered to himself,

"Things are about to get really interesting."