Julien returned to the team hotel after the stadium festivities but didn't join the ongoing celebrations. He had other matters to address.
Pierre had warned him before the match: they needed to talk afterward.
"The Reuben brothers?" Julien's brow furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar na.
Pierre double-checked his notes. "They claim to represent a British property developnt company. I verified—it's legitimate. The company's nad after them. They've been Britain's richest n for a decade."
Pierre added with a hint of amazent, "Never thought two guys born in Mumbai would end up dominating British real estate."
Julien waved that aside. "What did they say exactly?"
"Simon Reuben told they want to discuss a major business opportunity. If you're willing to transfer to the Premier League, they can offer you a platform massive enough to compete for league titles and Champions League trophies. They're promising serious financial investnt."
Julien's frown deepened.
It sounded like a scam. If Britain's richest man hadn't said it, he'd have dismissed it imdiately.
Are they trying to break into sports now?
Over the past two years, the Eurozone debt crisis had battered Britain's economy, leaving it stagnant with occasional quarters of recession. Resisting external economic shocks was considered Britain's biggest challenge this year.
In Europe's integrated economy, Britain could no longer remain an isolated island. The narrow English Channel couldn't shield it from the Eurozone's sovereign debt crisis.
Politically, tensions between France, Germany, and Britain over EU fiscal policy were intensifying. While Britain wouldn't actually leave the EU, Euroskeptics at ho were gaining ground.
Continental Europeans argued that if the Eurozone recovered, Britain would benefit. But Britain's logic was different: our economy needed to recover first, and the Eurozone shouldn't be an obstacle to that.
A recent survey by the Royal Institute of International Affairs showed that 56% of Britons wanted to leave the EU completely.
Politically and economically, Brexit wouldn't happen in 2013—but the sentint was growing.
Julien had vague mories of this from his previous life. He understood why the Premier League would boom in the next few years.
Maybe the Reuben brothers represent an opportunity?
He thought for a mont. "This needs more clarity. We need a concrete plan, not vague promises. Find out exactly what they're proposing."
Pierre nodded. "They said this is just initial contact. They'll provide full details soon."
"Good."
Pierre continued, "Also—The Player's Tribune has completed all testing. We can launch anyti. And Wilfried called about Kylian. He's having so problems at Monaco."
Julien leaned forward. "For The Player's Tribune, I'll need to coordinate with Zidane. I might have additional plans. You and René handle the operational side. We need more French football legends involved. Trust —we're going to explode onto the scene. Our platform will beco the first choice for French fans. Maybe all of Europe."
Pierre's eyes glead with hope. He'd never imagined this—a blue-collar worker from a tiny town, was now building a family business with websites involving so many celebrities. He looked at his son with pride.
'How did I produce this kid?'
He'd always been too busy to be a hands-on parent, and was basically letting Julien raise himself. And sohow, that produced a genius.
Julien shifted topics. "About Kylian—let's go to Monaco tomorrow. Call it a short vacation. We'll rest one day, then I'll head back to Bastia. Hadzibegic already told none of us internationals are in the squad for the next match."
Chataigner had inford him before the Spain ga. With the league advantage comfortable, the club wanted the national team players fully rested. The season's final push allowed no margin for error.
"Sounds good."
After they finished talking, Pierre left for his own commitnts. He'd beco incredibly busy lately—managing Julien's endorsent opportunities, transfer inquiries, dia relations, and running The Player's Tribune's operations.
Exhausting work. But he loved every minute of it.
Pierre felt like he'd rediscovered his youth. He even joked to himself that in a couple years, Julien might have a little brother or sister. That's what a thriving career does to a man.
After Pierre left, Julien opened his laptop and researched the Reuben brothers. Their story was remarkable—two immigrants from India who'd conquered London real estate, controlling landmarks like Millbank Tower, the Cambridge Building, and Burlington Arcade. Multiple years as Britain's richest n. Net worth around £20 billion.
But nothing connected them to sports.
What's their angle? Buy a club and go full PSG or Manchester City?
But that didn't make sense. Two property developers playing with football wouldn't generate returns. So why?
Julien couldn't figure it out. He'd need to wait for Pierre's follow-up.
He scrolled through news coverage, checking various European developnts, ntally strategizing. Start with The Player's Tribune. Build a family fund gradually. Play the ga, but make the money too.
When dawn broke over Paris, when the first Métro trains began running, commuters picked up their morning papers as usual.
Without cell reception underground, they read to pass the ti.
Today, whispers of "Julien" moved through every car.
Passengers read with intense focus. So couldn't suppress excited grins. They'd glance up, catch another reader's eye across the aisle, recognize the sa newspaper—L'Équipe and exchange knowing nods, raising their papers in salute.
L'Équipe had dedicated yet another front page to Julien:
"JULIEN DE ROCCA: THE NEXT TEN, TWENTY YEARS BELONG TO FRANCE"
The cover image showed Julien with his arms spread wide, and behind him, thousands of French fans mirroring his pose—a collective celebration frozen in ti.
He was the conductor. They were his orchestra.
Article excerpt:
"Who predicted this? Who imagined that France would demolish Spain 5-0 in last night's World Cup qualifying clash?
How many were left speechless by that scoreline?
5-0 isn't just a result—it's a declaration of war. It's France grinding the bones of the old dynasty into dust and announcing their intent to conquer Brazil. Spain's three-title dynasty turned to ash in the Paris cold, and from those ashes rises Julien De Rocca—the small-town genius from Paris's northern suburbs—now crowned the new king of French football.
If you were at the Stade de France last night, you heard it. That earth-shaking roar. Every touch, every dribble, every goal from De Rocca sent the crowd into delirium. The stadium used the most primal human expression to declare: Julien De Rocca is the undying symbol of French football for the next decade. Two decades.
Four goal contributions! Four different thods! De Rocca is genius personified. He's art incarnate on grass.
But he wasn't alone in Spain's destruction. Behind him stood equally young, equally talented teammates. Pogba. Varane. Kanté. Matuidi. They form the most exciting French generation in years.
These youngsters suffocated Spain's tiki-taka into oblivion. Youth as their bones. Iron as their souls. This is the foundation for conquering Brazil.
And De Rocca is the spark igniting it all.
After last night, the football world won't sleep. From Rio's favelas to Munich's beer halls, from Manchester's rain-soaked streets to Buenos Aires's tango parlors—every eye that loves football will turn toward this eighteen-year-old Frenchman.
Brazil's World Cup awaits. Imagine it: Julien De Rocca at the Maracanã, under a hundred thousand eyes, igniting his speed, shredding defenses with lightning, demolishing goals with thunderbolts. The world will go mad for him.
English fans will envy us this attacking weapon.
German fans will marvel at his complete dominance.
Brazilian fans will witness the birth of a new king.
He will beco a global icon. He'll make France's number 10 shirt the holy grail every child dreams of wearing.
Rember this mont. Rember this na—Julien De Rocca.
He is France's gift to the world. The chosen one.
When he dances across Brazil's soil, Corsican lava will consu the Samba flas and set the World Cup sky ablaze.
French fans—stand tall! You have De Rocca, the genius the entire world envies.
He will lead this young cavalry on the most ferocious conquest, carving French glory atop the world's summit.
ALLEZ LES BLEUS!
VIVE JULIEN DE ROCCA!
À LA CONQUÊTE DU MONDE!
(Go Blues! Long live Julien De Rocca! Onward to conquer the world!)"
Conquer Europe. Conquer the world.
It was the deep-rooted continental mindset—France's historical DNA. In this era, they couldn't do it with armies. But they could do it with football.
So say football is modern warfare.
No wonder tro passengers read with such passion. The article went on to catalog Julien's recent performances, solidifying his status as "Zidane's successor."
Maybe Julien really was the one to lead France back to the summit. The next Zidane. The only difference: one was bald, the other had a full head of hair.
The article's influence spread exponentially—from the tro to offices, from face-to-face conversations to social dia explosions.
Julien was becoming a cultural phenonon in France.
That morning, after bidding farewell to his teammates, Julien set off for Monaco with his parents, his sister Élodie, and his brothers Loup and Les.
Originally, he'd planned just a quick day trip. But the younger kids wanted to explore Monaco properly, so Julien agreed to stay overnight before returning to Paris and then Bastia.
As spring approached sumr, tourists traveled from Nice along the coastal road toward nton on the Italian-French border, drinking in the Côte d'Azur's beauty.
Midway through the journey, the diterranean spread blue outside the car window. Yachts cut white wakes across the surface as a dense forest of steel and concrete rose from the mountainside.
Monaco. The land where gold paved the streets.
In this city of glamour, "priceless real estate" was literal truth.
The Principality of Monaco ranked as the world's second-smallest nation—under two square kiloters, only larger than Vatican City. But this tiny country had the globe's highest population density and unfathomable wealth flowing through every inch of territory.
The Grimaldi family had ruled Monaco for centuries from their palace in Monaco-Ville, presiding over this magical realm.
Monaco was a playground for the ultra-wealthy.
Here, you could browse every luxury brand imaginable, encounter British and Italian supercars at every corner, and watch impeccably dressed couples gamble endlessly in golden casinos and hotels.
Monaco didn't resemble a real city-state. It was a dream kingdom fallen to earth.
And this fantasy city had deep football ties.
ssi and Ronaldo had both traveled to the Palace Square's Grimaldi Forum for the annual UEFA Champions League draw each August, receiving their Best Player awards.
At the city's southern edge, Port Hercules stood guard over the magnificent Stade Louis II, where athletics legends like Sergey Bubka and Usain Bolt had shattered records.
In the 1980s, AS Monaco made this 18,000-capacity modern venue their ho. Since then, the stadium had witnessed legendary strikers like George Weah, Sonny Anderson, and Fernando Morientes wearing red and white. It had seen 1998 World Cup champions Djorkaeff, Henry, and Trezeguet leading Monaco's charges.
Julien gazed through the car window at the dreamlike cityscape.
It was undeniably beautiful.
After checking into their hotel and settling in, Julien took his family on a Monaco tour. He'd traveled plenty before, but always in "special" mode—hitting landmarks at maximum speed.
Now, in Monaco and elsewhere, having money versus not having money created completely different experiences.
While his mother, sister, and brothers explored, Julien spoke with Pierre about Mbappé's current difficulties.
Monaco had rich football history and had produced many stars, including Thierry Henry.
At Clairefontaine, Mbappé had been called "the new Titi" (Titi being Henry's nickna). However, unlike Henry's explosive physicality, Mbappé was better suited to playing winger.
Carrying those expectations, Mbappé had arrived at Monaco feeling like he belonged among the elite.
Initially, his mother thought Monaco was too far from ho. But when Monaco offered a €400,000 signing bonus, distance suddenly seed manageable. And with a Russian billionaire now owning the club, money was no object. The future looked bright.
So, Mbappé settled in.
Once there, his contact with Julien gradually decreased. Julien hadn't known the details of what Mbappé was experiencing.
Now, through Pierre, he learned everything.
When Mbappé arrived for his initial club interview alongside other new signings, everyone else gave standard answers about training hard and proving themselves. Mbappé quoted:
"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."
But the ambitious Mbappé, who'd been Bondy's undisputed prodigy, discovered at Monaco that he needed to adapt to being ordinary.
The club housed twenty-plus academy players in dormitories beneath the south stand of Stade Louis II. Most ca from Marseille and Paris. Mbappé moved in among them.
Every morning, the young players took a minibus ten kiloters to La Turbie, where Monaco's training facilities sat in the French town.
Mornings ant academics—teachers covering tenth-grade curriculum. Afternoons, around three or four o'clock, they'd train on a large artificial pitch overlooking the diterranean, supervised by coach Bruno Irles.
Irles had played for Monaco as a defender before retiring into coaching roles with the reserves and U17s.
Mbappé and his twenty-plus teammates—all born between 1997 and 1998 would compete in France's U17 league under Irles's guidance.
In the season's opening matches, Mbappé rarely started. He got sparse minutes, sotis only entering near full-ti. His first taste of real competition pressure—the 1997-born teammates already had a season's experience.
But that wasn't his only problem. Irles constantly hamred him about defensive weaknesses. Eventually, Irles made a decision: send Mbappé down to the next age group for U17 honor league matches.
The demotion beca a flashpoint.
Irles clearly wasn't satisfied with Mbappé.
So Wilfried took a year's leave, leaving his wife and second son Ethan at ho, and ca alone to Capdail near La Turbie. He rented an apartnt and attended almost every one of Mbappé's training sessions.
He was furious about his son's treatnt at the new club.
Pierre explained, "Kylian hates Bruno Irles's coaching style. He says Irles constantly swears at players during training—cursing so harshly that so kids with weaker ntal grit cry themselves to sleep.
Kylian can mostly handle it, but sotis it's too much. Fortunately, Wilfried's been protecting him. They haven't just accepted it—they keep demanding answers from the club."
Julien nodded, absorbing this.
He wasn't coming to Monaco to pressure the club. He didn't have that kind of influence yet. He simply wanted to strengthen Mbappé's resolve.
And also, to lay groundwork for Mbappé's next professional contract.
Currently, Mbappé was on a three-year academy deal with Monaco.
Even without Julien's intervention, Mbappé would beco a superstar eventually. But Julien didn't want to wait that long.
France needed another sports car.
Ribéry couldn't sustain another cycle. Next sumr would be Ribéry's final shot at tournant glory.
Mbappé was the answer for France's next championship window. The left-wing solution for 2018 and beyond.
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