Reincarnated As A Wonderkid

Arne Slot's post-match talk was short and to the point. He praised their fightback, their second-half dominance, but he was ruthless in his analysis of the final, sloppy moments.

"We did not lose today because of one corner," he said, his eyes scanning the room. "We lost two points because we lost our concentration. It will not happen again."

As the players began to shower and change, the mood slowly lightened, the frustration giving way to the easy camaraderie of the team.

"So," Biyon said, appearing beside Leon with two bottles of water.

"Your debut. A goal, an assist... and a soul-crushing last-minute equalizer. Welcome to the Premier League."

Leon just laughed, a tired, happy sound.

"Thanks. I think I need a nap that lasts for about three days."

The drive home was quiet, his mind replaying the conversation with Salah.

Do it again.

He got home to find the apartment filled with the warm, comforting smell of his mother's cooking. He told her about the game, the goal, the frustrating draw.

She just listened patiently, a sympathetic smile on her face.

Later that night, he was on a video call with Sofia, her cheerful, intelligent face a perfect antidote to the day's drama.

"So," she said, a teasing glint in her eye. "The great magician scores on his debut, but he can only manage a draw? I am a little disappointed."

"Hey, it was a tough game," he laughed. "And I got an assist, too."

"An assist that led to an 'insane long shot' from your new German friend, I saw," she said, her smile widening. "It seems you are collecting quite the team of superstars."

"We're trying," he said, a comfortable, happy feeling settling in his chest. Talking to her made everything feel... simpler. Lighter.

They talked for over an hour, and by the time he went to sleep, the frustration of the draw had been completely washed away, replaced by a quiet, happy exhaustion.

He woke up the next morning to the sound of birds chirping outside his window and the smell of fresh coffee.

For a moment, he just lay there, a feeling of pure, uncomplicated peace washing over him.

The sun was shining. He was in his new home. He had a team that felt like a family. He had a girl who made him feel like the luckiest man on the planet.

And then he remembered.

He sat bolt upright, a slow, giddy, and slightly disbelieving grin spreading across his face. He looked at the date on his phone. It was today. His birthday. He was eighteen.

He walked out into the kitchen, where his mother was waiting with a small, single-cupcake with a candle in it.

"Happy birthday, my champion," she said, her eyes shining with love.

He blew out the candle, a wave of pure, simple happiness washing over him. Eighteen. He was officially an adult. A man. An adult man who had just paid €150 million for. The thought was still ridiculous.

He spent the morning in a quiet, happy haze. He opened presents from his mom, from Sofia, from his old teammates back in Milan. Julián had sent him a book titled "101 Confusing Philosophical Questions to Annoy Your New Teammates." It was perfect.

As he was sitting on the sofa, a new notification, one he had never seen before, flashed in his Vision. It was different from the usual tactical alerts. It was bordered in a celebratory, golden light.

[SYSTEM ALERT: User has reached the 'Age of Majority'. Congratulations!]

[BIRTHDAY PROTOCOL INITIATED: As per user agreement, all juvenile-level information restrictions are now lifted. Full access to all contractual and administrative data is now granted.]

Leon stared, completely bewildered. Juvenile-level restrictions? What did that even mean?

Another notification popped up.

[New Data Unlocked: Full Contractual Agreement - Inter Milan to Liverpool FC.]

[Would you like to view the full document, including all hidden clauses and appendixes?]

His heart started to pound. The 'Briatore Clause'. The one detail that had been bugging him, the one piece of the puzzle that was still missing.

He had asked his agent, Marco, about it, but Marco had been strangely evasive, saying it was "boring legal stuff" and not to worry about it.

With a trembling, mental command, he selected 'Yes'.

A wall of digital text appeared in his mind's eye, pages and pages of dense, legalistic jargon.

He scrolled past the salary details, the bonuses, the image rights. He scrolled down, down, down, to the very end of the document, to the final, mysterious appendix.

And there it was, in stark, undeniable black and white.

[Clause 7.B - The 'Briatore Clause']

[In the event that Liverpool Football Club and Inter Milan are drawn against each other in any stage of the UEFA Champions League, the player, Leon, is contractually forbidden from participating in either the home or away leg of the fixture.]

A cold, sick feeling washed over him. So it was true. Briatore had caged him.

But then, he saw there was a second part to the clause.

A sub-clause he had never heard of, a detail so audacious, so completely insane, that he had to read it three times to believe it.

[Clause 7.B.ii - In the event of the above scenario, should Liverpool FC choose to pay Inter Milan a one-time 'Competitive Exemption Fee' of €20 million, the player, Leon, will be permitted to play.]

[Furthermore, as per a private agreement between Mr. F. Briatore and the player's agent, 50% of this exemption fee (€10 million) will be paid directly to the player, Leon, as a 'Special Appearance Bonus'.]

He had been sold, but he had been sold with a secret, golden parachute that only activated if his old team and his new team tried to shoot each other down.

The revelation was so absurd that it was liberating.

He was an eighteen-year-old kid in the middle of the most ridiculous, high-stakes soap opera in the world. And honestly? It was kind of fun.

The week that followed his chaotic debut was a strange, beautiful paradise of anonymity.

The Premier League had an international break, a brief, blessed pause in the relentless rhythm of the season.

The senior players were all away with their national teams. The training ground was quiet. And for the first time since he had become 'Leondona', Leon was just a normal guy.

He had no media duties, no tactical meetings, no press conferences. He just had... time.