Thursday, June 27th, 2022
The taxi moved through Florence’s narrow streets. Demien pressed his face against the cool window. Buildings passed by in the darkness. Everything looked the sa as when he’d left.
But sothing felt different.
His phone buzzed. A ssage from his mother.
"Are you close? I’m waiting."
He typed back. "Ten minutes."
Marco spoke from the driver’s seat. "She’s been texting all day."
"Yeah?"
"Three tis this morning. Four more after lunch. She wanted to know when you’d be ho."
Demien’s chest got tight. Before Milan, he’d been locked in his room for days. Barely speaking. Barely eating. The Fiorentina rejection had crushed him.
Now he was coming back different.
The taxi turned onto his street. Streetlights made long shadows on the pavent. Marco paid the driver. Demien grabbed his bag from the trunk.
The apartnt building door opened before they got close.
Isabella stood there. ssy hair pulled back. Sa cardigan she’d worn when he left. Her eyes were red.
"Demien."
Her voice broke when she said his na.
He dropped his bag. Three steps and he was in front of her. She pulled him into a hug. He felt her shaking.
"I’m here, Mum. I’m okay."
She stepped back but kept her hands on his shoulders. Looking at his face like she needed to make sure he was real. Tears ran down her cheeks.
"You look different. You look alive."
"I am alive." He smiled soft. "Better than alive."
Marco cleared his throat behind them. "I’ll leave you two. Got so paperwork to sort out before tomorrow."
Isabella wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Thank you, Marco. For everything."
"He earned it himself."
Marco squeezed Demien’s shoulder once. Then walked back to the taxi.
Inside, the sll of ho hit him. Lavender from the candles his mother burned. Coffee that never quite left the kitchen. Old books stacked by the window.
Isabella put the kettle on. She didn’t ask if he wanted tea. She always made tea when sothing important needed saying.
They sat at the small kitchen table. The wood showed scratches from years of als. One leg wobbled. Demien steadied it with his knee.
Like always.
"Tell about the trial."
Isabella wrapped both hands around her mug.
"Marco said you did well, but I want to hear it from you."
Demien leaned back in his chair. "We played two matches. An eleven versus eleven and so smaller drills. I scored twice in the big match. Set up two more goals."
Her eyes went wide. "Four goals?"
"Involved in four. Yeah."
"And Atalanta wants you?"
"They offered a two week trial at their U23 facility. Starts next Monday."
Isabella set her mug down careful. Her fingers shook a little. Her eyes got shiny.
"I’m so proud of you. After everything with Fiorentina, I was so worried. But you didn’t give up."
"I couldn’t give up."
She smiled through the tears forming.
"You’ve worked so hard for this. You deserve it."
Isabella reached across the table. Took his hand.
"I thought I’d lost you. After Fiorentina, you were so quiet. So distant. I didn’t know how to reach you."
"I’m sorry."
"Don’t apologize."
Her grip got tighter.
"Just promise you’ll keep fighting. Whatever happens at Atalanta, whatever anyone says about you, promise you won’t give up again."
"I promise."
The words ca easy because he ant them.
"I’m going to make you proud this ti."
"You already have."
They finished their tea without talking. The clock on the wall ticked steady. Ti felt important now.
Isabella stood after a while. Kissed the top of his head.
"Get so rest. You look exhausted."
"I am."
"Goodnight, love."
"Goodnight, Mum."
Demien went to his room. The door stuck a little when he pushed it. Sa as always. He dropped onto his bed. Stared at the ceiling. Too tired to change clothes.
On the wall above his desk hung a frad photo.
Fiorentina’s youth academy team from three years ago. Demien stood in the back row at seventeen. Smiling like he believed the world was full of good things.
He looked at that photo for a long ti.
That Demien had believed. That Demien had hope.
That Demien had failed.
This Demien wouldn’t.
A soft sound rang in his head. Blue light gathered at the edge of his vision. Words floated in the darkness.
「Congratulations on your trial success.」
The system’s voice felt warm. Like it was genuinely pleased.
「You have proven yourself worthy of this second chance. Rest well. Your new training routine will begin soon.」
The panel faded.
Demien changed into old sweatpants. Fell onto his bed. The mattress sagged in the middle. Familiar and worn.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep ca fast.
Friday, June 28th, 2022
Afternoon sunlight ca through the windows of Marco’s office.
The space was small but clean. Filing cabinets lined one wall. Papers covered a desk near the window. Two chairs sat facing the desk. Their leather cracked from years of people sitting in them.
Marco sat behind the desk. Phone pressed to his ear.
"Yeah, Luca. It’s Marco Benetti, Demien’s agent."
He paused. Listening.
"Right, from the trial. Listen, I know you’re probably getting other offers, but I’d like to represent you too."
Another pause.
Marco leaned back in his chair.
"No, seriously, I think we’d work well together. The thing is, I need to contact Atalanta about your contract, and it’d be easier if you signed with first."
He waited. Then smiled a little.
"Can you co to my office today? Bring your father if you want."
Marco grabbed a pen. Wrote sothing on a notepad.
"Via Roma, number forty two. Great. See you in an hour."
He hung up.
Pulled out a fresh folder from his filing cabinet. If Luca was coming with his father, everything needed to be ready.
An hour passed.
Marco spent it sorting contracts. Thinking about what to say. He’d worked with young players before. But Luca’s family was different.
Rich father. Private coaches. Multiple houses.
The kid didn’t need money.
He needed soone to guide him right.
A knock on the door stopped his thoughts.
Marco stood. "That’ll be them."
The door opened. Luca walked in with an older man beside him.
The man was tall. Maybe fifty. Grey hair and sharp eyes. He wore an expensive suit that fit perfect.
"Marco Benetti?"
The man held out his hand.
"That’s . You must be Tommaso."
"Correct."
They shook hands. Tommaso’s grip was firm.
"My son tells you represented Demien at the trial."
"I did."
Marco pointed to the chairs.
"Please, sit."
Luca dropped into one chair. "Thanks for seeing us on short notice."
"Of course."
Marco sat behind his desk.
"I appreciate you coming."
Tommaso looked at him for a long mont.
"So. You want to represent Luca."
"I do."
Marco pulled out the folder.
"I’ve been an agent for fifteen years. I work mainly with young players making their first professional moves. I know the youth systems at most Serie A clubs. I have good relationships with the people who matter."
"What’s your commission rate?"
"Ten percent on wages. Five percent on bonuses. Standard agent fee for youth contracts."
Tommaso nodded. "That’s reasonable. What makes you different from the other agents who will call us?"
"Honesty."
Marco’s voice stayed steady.
"I won’t lie to you about Luca’s chances. I won’t promise things I can’t deliver. And I won’t push him to make moves that help but hurt his career."
"Can you give an example?"
"Sure. So agents would tell Luca to hold out for a Serie A first team contract. Sounds great, right? But the reality is he’d sit on the bench for years. Barely playing. Losing ti to develop. I’ll tell him to take the U23 spot. Get minutes. Prove himself. Then move up when he’s ready."
Tommaso studied Marco for a long mont.
Then he looked at Luca.
"What do you think?"
"I trust him."
Luca sat forward.
"If he’s good enough for soone who just dominated a trial like Demien did, he’s good enough for ."
"Alright."
Tommaso turned back to Marco.
"Show the contract."
Marco slid the papers across the desk.
Tommaso read careful. His finger followed each line. He asked questions about ending clauses. How long the representation lasted. How fees worked.
Marco answered every one clear.
Twenty minutes later, Tommaso nodded.
"This is fair."
Luca signed the contract with quick strokes. His signature was ssy but confident.
Marco signed below it.
"Welco aboard."
"Thanks."
Luca stood. Shook Marco’s hand.
"So what’s next?"
"I’ll contact Atalanta tonight. Get your trial contract sent over. You and Demien will need to co back tomorrow to sign those."
"No problem."
Tommaso stood too.
"Thank you for handling this professionally."
"Of course."
"If Luca needs anything, call ."
Tommaso handed Marco a business card.
"Day or night."
Marco looked at the card. His eyebrows went up a little.
"You’re that Tommaso Bianchi. The investnt firm."
"That’s ."
"Impressive."
Marco put the card in his pocket.
"I’ll keep that in mind."
After they left, Marco pulled out his phone right away. Found the Atalanta scout’s business card.
He typed fast.
"This is Marco Benetti, Demien Walter’s agent. I’m ready for his trial contract. Please send it over."
The reply ca in minutes.
"I’ll send it now."
"One more thing," Marco typed. "I also represent Luca Bianchi now. Can you include his contract too?"
"Of course. Both will arrive tonight."
Marco smiled.
Set his phone down.
Two clients heading to Atalanta.
Not bad for a Friday afternoon.# Chapter 13: Foundations
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