"Are you sure you want to do this? You're respected by the staff, the players admire you, and the executives hold you in high regard. What's really going on?"

Rashid paused, gazing out at the pitch where the academy players were training. Though it was the end of the season, the quality of their play was impressive—fluid ball movement, seamless attacking transitions, a display of skill.

Rashid had long been a cornerstone of the coaching staff at one of Europe's biggest clubs. Under new ownership, the club had transformed into a powerhouse, winning three league titles and a Champions League in the past five years.

He had almost everything—honor, wealth, glory.

"I just wanted a change of scenery," Rashid said, taking a sip from his canned coffee. "I've just completed my primary coaching license. It's time for me to be a head coach."

"But aren't you content leading the B team? You could easily move up to coach the first team," Thomas Clyff persisted.

Rashid, however, had already made his decision. "Thank you for the offer, but my time here is done. I'll be moving on."

# #

It was a long journey—over two hours flying from England to Italy, followed by an equally long drive.

Arriving in Ravenna by 8 p.m., Rashid had no plans to stop at a hotel. He had a press conference in two hours, and despite the small turnout of local reporters, it had to be done.

"Busy night, huh?" the taxi driver commented, noticing Rashid's luggage. "Sure you don't want to drop your bags at a hotel first? I know a great one, cheap but top service. I can wait and take you there after."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm in a hurry," Rashid replied.

The driver scoffed. "Another new employee, eh? No wonder the club's falling apart, they don't know how to manage money. They're going to fold soon, I tell you."

Rashid was headed to Centro Sportivo Luvi, home of A.C. Aeterna—his new club. "Fold?" Rashid asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, the team's been on the verge of relegation for a while. Some say it's because the players aren't getting paid properly. There's no fight left in them."

The driver sighed heavily. "It's a shame. Aeterna used to be a respected club. How old are you, anyway?"

Rashid answered reluctantly, "28."

"You're younger than my son! Too bad you're about 40 years late to save this club," the driver laughed.

Rashid wasn't sure if the man was mocking him or if it was just the way Italians spoke.

When they arrived, the driver gave a thumbs-up. "Call me if you need anything. I'm always available—for a fair price, of course!" he laughed.

Rashid grimaced as he exited the car. He disliked overly chatty people like the driver. 

His mood soured even further when he was greeted by a bespectacled young woman who seemed perpetually confused.

"Mr. Alfaro?" she asked hesitantly.

Rashid chuckled. "Who else?"

"S-sorry! It's my first day as assistant coach! My name is Giulina Moretti. Everyone called Gigi. I've always dreamed of working in football—"

Rashid cut her off with a cough. "Could you take me to the press conference room?"

"Oh, right! You can enter through the front, go three blocks down, then turn left, then right—"

"Isn't it your job to guide me there?" Rashid interrupted.

"Ah, yes, sorry!" Gigi laughed awkwardly and led the way, though not before showing Rashid around the training grounds unnecessarily.

By the time they arrived, Rashid was surprised he hadn't lost his temper. He entered the press room, ignoring Gigi's rambling, and was met with flashing cameras and eager journalists, including a reporter from Global KickOff, one of the top media outlets in football.

They weren't just there to hear from the new coach of a Serie C club. They wanted to dig into Rashid's history with his former team.

"Let's begin," Rashid said, taking the mic.

A reporter immediately asked, this one from Global KickOff. "There are rumors you left your old club due to a conflict with the head coach that divided the dressing room. Care to comment?"

"No comment," Rashid replied, watching the reporter's face fall in disappointment.

Another journalist spoke up, "You've never been a head coach before. Are you sure you're ready for this role?"

"Bronze," Rashid said simply.

The journalist blinked. "What?"

"Bronze isn't gold or diamonds, but it's still valuable. Especially when found in a trash heap," Rashid said cryptically.

"Are you saying A.C. Aeterna is a trash heap?" another journalist asked.

Rashid grinned. "Look, I'm not here to play nice. Serie C was practically filled with shits and flops. And this team is fighting relegation. What else you could called them?"