Four hundred thousand a year may seem like an unbelievable amount to many people, but for Lynch, that’s about what he could earn in just three to five days—or a week at most, to put it modestly. In truth, even a small fluctuation in the financial markets could yield profits beyond that figure. But Lynch preferred to remain humble.
What he didn’t realize was that the pride on Kane’s face wasn’t because he could only see such small sums of money. Perhaps Kane’s position didn’t allow him a view of greater heights, but even so, it was rare for a professional club to maintain a healthy financial standing—let alone turn a profit.
Many large professional clubs burn through cash every year. For the managers, presidents, and investors behind these clubs, the sport itself isn’t the main interest—it’s the added value that cos from it. They may indeed be making money, but it’s usually from related ventures. Many board mbers of major clubs often run businesses tied to sports rchandise, a very common practice.
Consur obsession with celebrity influence leads them to buy what the stars wear rather than what they truly need. This phenonon isn’t exclusive to sports—it’s widespread in fashion too. As a result, many products beco little more than collectibles after purchase, not because they suit the buyer, but because of who endorsed them.
In so cases, the club president or shareholders might have just struck gold—literally—back in their rural hotowns. Suddenly wealthy, these nouveau riche struggle to integrate into high society. They use clubs to polish their image, trying to appear no different from those around them.
Setting aside the motives and ans of these club owners, the bigger the club, the harder it is to achieve profitability.
“That’s fantastic. It ans you’re doing a great job as club manager. I feel completely at ease leaving the club in your hands,” Lynch said. He didn’t show any disdain for the figure of four hundred thousand. After all, money is money, and he liked it regardless of the amount.
Then he rembered sothing. “I recall you haven’t renewed your contract with the club, right?”
Kane froze, visibly nervous. Indeed, his contract had not been renewed. He had been working for the club out of sheer passion. The league offered him minimal subsidies, and when Lynch took over, the matter simply slipped his mind—until Vera ntioned it in a call just before he left the Federation.
In the call, Vera discussed the club’s finances. Since there was no active employnt contract, Kane’s monthly salary paynts raised so tax-related concerns. Was it salary, an essential club expense, or sothing else? The classification affected how it would be taxed.
Lynch had ant to speak with Kane about it, but got too busy and forgot—until now.
Kane was visibly tense. Coach Mordick, sitting beside him, straightened up as well, clearly nervous too. He worked well with Kane, who was a passionate, slightly naïve, and idealistic club manager—but also very knowledgeable. That made him ideal in the eyes of many coaches, who didn’t want cold, corporate types treating the club and players purely as a business.
If Lynch planned to replace Kane, it could deal a serious blow to Mordick’s coaching career, which had only just started to rise.
“Relax, I’m not firing you,” Lynch said, noticing their unease. “The head of finance told you don’t have a contract with the club, so we have to pay extra tax on your salary.”
Policies vary slightly across regions, but generally speaking, tax laws encourage employers to hire more workers to boost employnt and overall societal well-being. Wages paid to employees are deducted from taxable inco. For instance, if a company makes 100 units in profit and pays 20 in wages, they are taxed on the remaining 80—not the full 100.
But since the club couldn’t prove Kane’s pay was wages, they had to pay tax on the full amount. It wasn’t much, which is probably why Lynch forgot about it.
Only now did Kane finally let out a breath. “So… do we need to sign a new contract?”
Lynch nodded slightly. “Of course.”
He had another idea in mind, but now wasn’t the right ti to bring it up.
Not long after, the bus stopped outside the hotel. Only a few female players were waiting there—the male players were still undergoing final preparations and relaxation exercises. Instead of spending on star players, the club invested in physical therapists to help these aggressive, hard-hitting athletes stay healthy and extend their careers. These therapists helped players prepare physically for the next day’s match.
“All the female players are here?” Lynch asked, a bit curious—it seed so.
Mordick and Kane exchanged glances. Kane explained, “We’re playing away in unfamiliar territory. Although so fans followed us here, we’re still outnumbered, so…”
Before he could finish, Lynch nodded. “I get it. You make those decisions yourselves.”
The female team captain looked visibly disappointed as Lynch left with the managers. She had hoped this might be her chance. “Not everyone falls for that kind of thing,” Mordick muttered to her as he left.
In reality, Lynch’s club wasn’t as clean as it appeared to be. There was no shortage of scheming and petty politics. But both Kane and Mordick managed things well enough that Lynch never had to know.
Still, not knowing didn’t an such things didn’t happen. The previous captain had conspired with the vice-captain of the n’s team—both were dismissed after being caught in a scandal she orchestrated. There was no hard evidence, but everyone knew. The fact that she beca the new captain despite all this was due in part to her ability to rally teammates whose brains were perhaps more developed in other areas—and also her vocal support of feminist causes. ŗΆŊò฿Ɛș
The next day, the preseason finals began. The local mayor had heard about Lynch’s arrival and personally invited him to the best seat in the stadium.
As a highly comrcialized city, Bentley’s stadium stood apart from others. While it did share common design elents—ensuring a better experience for both fans and athletes—it had sothing extra: a massive VIP viewing area placed at the pri location, covered by multiple caras that broadcast its footage on the stadium’s big screen.
The idea was simple. Celebrity appearances during flashy exhibition gas attracted crowds who ca not for the sport, but for the stars.
The match began at 3:00 p.m., and the stadium was already packed—surprisingly so. As the crowd settled in, a familiar voice rang out from the loudspeakers, “Didn’t expect such a big turnout this year. I thought at most we’d see three to five hundred people show up…”
To create more buzz, the mayor had paid a hefty fee to bring in the infamous trio of comntators, known among fans as the Three Bastards of the Super Cup. Their comntary style was sharp, often biting and irreverent—but fans loved them for it.
Comntator Two: “Maybe locals just never watch football, so they don’t realize none of us consider the preseason to be a real competition!”
It was a jab, clearly aid at more than just the locals. The crowd caught the joke. Laughter spread through the stands—so locals laughed too, knowing full well who the real target was: the mayor of Bentley.
Before the team entered the stadium, the staff went in first. They began their comntary in earnest, followed shortly by the players.
Comntator One: “Interstellar Club has perford quite well this year—they might even win the preseason championship…”
Comntator Two: “Sorry, as I said earlier, I don’t consider the preseason to be a legitimate competition.”
Comntator Three: “Then what the hell are we doing here comntating on a non-competition?”
Comntator Two: “Because they’re paying us a lot—we couldn’t say no!”
The match hadn’t even started, but the crowd was already bursting with laughter. It was entertaining—an-spirited, yes, but as long as they weren’t targeting you, it was funny.
Comntator Three: “Look, the man footing the bill just showed up. Should we stand up and express our gratitude with a formal introduction?”
Comntator Two: “Of course—unless you want to risk not getting your final paynt…”
Bzzzt~
A sharp fart noise blared through the speakers, taking their sarcasm and humor to another level. The crowd erupted in hysterics, and all eyes turned to the VIP box.
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