"Here we are."
Sebastian parked the car in front of a Spanish restaurant, which was a relief.
As we entered, a well-dressed female staff member greeted us in Spanish. It seemed she was somewhat familiar with Sebastian.
There was a menu on the table.
"I'll recommend today's menu for you. And feel free to order any drink you like."
I pointed to a beer with a familiar name. Sebastian called the waitress over.
"I'll have a glass of this beer, please, and one serving of today's menu. And I'd like my usual as well. For the drink, please."
"Are you sure you want the juice with a ton of vegetables? I've been thinking about it, but is it really good without any sugar..."
"It's tolerable."
The waitress still looked unconvinced as she nodded and headed to the kitchen.
"You come here often?"
"Yeah, the head chef is also Spanish... and above all, it's delicious."
"Aha."
"Just a moment."
While Sebastian checked his phone, the drinks and some simple bread arrived at the table. I couldn't take my eyes off the drink in front of him.
"Is that what you... always eat?"
"Yeah, I can't drink beer during the season. It's also good for my body."
Sebastian casually took a sip of the green, thick drink.
Ugh, disgusting.
I took a few sips of my beer.
Thinking about it, it's impressive. He doesn't drink alcohol at all during the season. That thought became stronger with each dish that arrived.
My appetizer was a tapa with salmon on baguette, and Sebastian's was a salad. When my main dish arrived — a shrimp bake dripping with grease — Sebastian's main dish looked like a healthy chicken breast steak.
He really knows how to take care of his body.
Once he seemed to be getting full, Sebastian slowed his eating pace and kept chatting away.
Most of the conversation was about my home and life, as he diligently talked about things like where to find a good supermarket and when to take out the trash, covering various aspects of daily life.
"Since we live next door, just ask if you don't know."
Such consideration.
As I sliced into my steak, I pushed away the memory of the fish and chips I had eaten that morning.
Yeah, this is food.
And while I watched Sebastian chat animatedly, I had a few questions I wanted to ask.
Since when has he been facing racial discrimination? Was he thinking about going back to Spain because of the racism?
Considering that the agency was only taking care of him for the remaining season, it seemed that returning to Spain was a foregone conclusion.
If I asked, it would only ruin the mood.
Just then, the waitress brought out the dessert. As she placed it down conveniently, our hands brushed. The waitress gave a slight smile. Latin women are the best. I felt my heart flutter for some reason.
At that moment, Sebastian's phone vibrated.
"I got a message from my mom. Just a second."
Sebastian eagerly typed a response. Watching him, I remembered something. My body brushed against the waitress, but my phone didn't vibrate?
I pulled out my phone to check, but there were no icons on the status bar.
I wondered if the Helper I had seen all day was just an illusion as I searched for the icon, but Helper was still there. The content was the same.
What is going on?
"You know, in the East, we have something called 'Saju' (Four Pillars of Destiny), right?"
"Yeah?"
I didn't know when he put his phone away, but Sebastian was looking at me and started to speak.
I was surprised that he showed such direct interest, as he had only shown indirect interest before. I kept stumbling over my words, mumbling about the Eastern mystique, but I didn't know anything about that.
"There are also facial features and astrology..."
"Astrology is Western, right?"
"There's also a form of astrology based on the Twelve Earthly Branches."
"Oh, that one."
Sebastian naturally continued the conversation. Even when the topic shifted from Eastern to Western matters, he didn't stop talking.
It seemed Sebastian was quite interested in the occult.
It was also noted in the Helper: 'Likes superstitions.'
"So, I was wondering if I could find out whether it would be good for me to go back to Spain or stay in England through something like Saju?"
Sebastian cautiously asked.
Didn't he decide to go back to Spain?
I didn't know how to respond, so I stayed quiet. Just then, one of the girls who had been led to the table next to us recognized Sebastian.
"Rodriguez!"
"Yeah?"
Sebastian looked up at her. She covered her mouth with her hand and gasped before grabbing Sebastian's hand and shaking it.
"I'm a fan!"
Sebastian forced a smile.
"I can't even play lately."
"Your first season is an adaptation period, right? Don't worry too much about it. The team is doing well. At this rate, you can make it to the Premier League. It's all thanks to you doing well in the early stages!"
"...Thank you."
"I have Rodriguez's jersey; could you sign it? And a photo too, please."
"Sure, anytime."
"Sure, no problem."
Sebastian awkwardly signed the shirt and took a photo with the fan, which I took for them. As he smiled briefly for the picture, that smile lingered even after the fan had left.
"You're quite popular."
"Very grateful for that."
Sebastian blushed at my comment, and we stood up to head back to the car.
While he was busy with the fan, I pondered his earlier question. Was he still holding onto his life in England? That was my only guess.
The conversation fell into an awkward silence as we got into the car, and Sebastian let out a light sigh as he started the engine.
"About what I asked earlier... Please forget it. I must have been a bit crazy."
To ease the tension, I brought up the chef I had met earlier.
"I guess the chef didn't know you were a football player, right? He thought you were just a student aspiring to be an athlete."
"That's right. The chef has no interest in football. That's why it's comfortable here. I can eat in peace without anyone knowing I'm a football player. Oh, and the fan I just met was a rare occurrence for me."
"I see."
I scratched my head and shifted my gaze to my phone. I couldn't look away from the screen while Sebastian skillfully drove us out of the parking lot.
The Helper hadn't activated even when I shook hands with the chef.
Within ten minutes, we arrived in front of the house where I would be living in Brighton.
As I got out of the car, I was momentarily stunned by the impressive sight of my new home while Sebastian retrieved my suitcase and brought it over.
"Sorry, I should have gotten it for you."
"Why are you so distracted? Is the house too small?"
"No, it's too nice."
The house was even better than I expected. It was a two-story home with a lawn that I wouldn't even know how to manage.
"Are you serious that I'm living here alone?"
Sebastian nodded and replied, "Originally, there was someone to help manage things, but they quit about a month ago."
"Oh..."
"Anyway, go inside. You've had a long day. You should get some rest."
"Yeah, what time should I come by tomorrow?"
He said there wouldn't be morning training the next day, so I could head to the club around 11 a.m. since I would have to eat there. I asked if I could eat at home, but he said it was a team policy.
After setting a time for tomorrow, Sebastian hesitated before leaving. He then cautiously spoke.
"Thank you."
"Huh?"
"This was the first enjoyable day I've had in a long time. Really, thank you for today."
I scratched my head awkwardly, and even Sebastian's strange pronunciation sounded nice to me.
When I didn't respond, he looked down at the ground and began to say something odd in a calm voice.
"I'm going back to Spain when the transfer window opens. So... if for any reason you want to quit in the middle, you can do so without any burden. Just let me know, and I'll help make sure you're not kicked out by the agency. Being next to me is quite a challenging job, you know."
"What?"
What are you talking about?
"Why would I quit?"
Sebastian looked up and smiled silently at my questions.
"Just because."
He paused for a moment, then lightly said goodbye and returned to his own home.
My new house had five rooms.
The fact that this house was free amazed me, but it also made me feel uneasy. I thought I should read the contract again as I threw myself onto the sofa, reveling in the feeling of being rich.
A two-story house with a garden in a coastal city—it really felt like I had struck it rich.
Then I suddenly wondered how I would clean this place.
The house began to feel like a burden.
I decided to only touch one room, the kitchen, and the bathroom and quickly unpacked my things. I just glanced at the other rooms and closed the doors. The same went for the second floor.
The hot water worked well, and the water pressure was fine.
When I returned to my room, I sat at the desk, opened a notebook, and turned on my laptop. There was also an internet connection available.
Then, I opened the Helper app.
"This was real..."
I had no idea when it was installed, what it was, but it was incredibly useful. Every piece of information it provided was accurate.
Even though Harry mistook me for a smartphone addict because of the Helper, it had helped me open Sebastian's heart and benefited him significantly.
"Thank you so much, Helper."
Thinking of Sebastian's voice made me smile.
At first, I had thought about deleting the app, suspecting someone had hacked my phone to play a prank, and I even considered changing my phone.
However, my thoughts changed.
I realized it was impossible for someone to manipulate it. What machine or person in the world could predict that someone would need to go to the bathroom exactly a few hours later?
During training, I tested the Helper's functionality by shaking hands with various people in the club or intentionally bumping into them. This helped me discover that it worked regardless of the person. The information I received about them revealed everything, even what they were currently thinking.
It was like a magical application.
There were a few people whose Helper didn't activate, but it was clear that this app could be a significant help depending on how it was used. Even if it only provided three pieces of information, it was too valuable to delete, as I could randomly obtain information about most people I came into contact with.
Of course, I had to remain cautious.
I wrote down the code of conduct I would follow when dealing with the Helper on the first line of my notebook. I continued writing on the second line.
I flipped a page and quickly jotted down the Helper's features. It provided information when making physical contact. And the information was limited to three pieces. Since the information came randomly, I couldn't find any other patterns.
Then I swiftly turned to the next page.
Since it could disappear at any moment, I began writing down the information I had gained from the Helper that day.
First, I started with Sebastian, followed by the three trashy guys bothering him.
As I wrote, I noticed the current abilities of one of Sebastian's tormentors and the potential abilities of another.
"Aren't those guys from Team A?"
The three troublemakers all played for Team A, which was practically the starting lineup.
So, did that mean a four-star (★★★★) rating indicated they had starter-level skills in the second division? Then what about Sebastian, who had six stars?
I recalled training sessions. When Sebastian was extremely tense, it didn't seem like there was that much of a difference in skill. However, once he began to use his elbows, he became more active, and even I, who had no coaching qualifications, could see he was several levels above the other players.
I had seen the coaching staff genuinely impressed by Sebastian whenever he made good plays, so it wasn't just my imagination.
In the early matches of the season, he seemed to dominate the second division, so if he fully adapted, he might play at a Messi-level in the second division—at least that's what I thought if he had six stars.
"Oh, right."
examined the top of the helper's list.
[Aron Ramsey]
Current Ability: ★★★★★★This was Aron Ramsey's current ability, the first entry ever registered.
If Sébastien had adapted easily and was of the same caliber as Aron Ramsey, Brighton might not be sitting at the top of the standings but could be in first place instead.
"Those bastards…"
If it weren't for the trio of trash players, Sébastien might have become a star in the second division, receiving all the media attention. And next year, he could have transferred to the first division or led the team to promotion and played at a higher level. No, it was certain.
It was frustrating to think that such a player had to be driven away from his hometown due to racism.
As I scrolled down the list, I discovered a name I had forgotten for a day.
The incredibly handsome guy I had briefly seen in the morning.
[Chris Allen]
Potential Ability: ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Current Ability: ★★★ (Position Mismatch)
He is in deep trouble.
*20 days until deletion.
One, two, three…
"Seven stars?"
Does he have more stars than a first-team player in the first division?
Although it was just a potential ability, seven stars was quite a lot. The vow to not believe it unconditionally had quickly slipped away.
I leaned in closer to the phone screen.
If he has seven stars… does that mean he could grow into a player like Messi or Ronaldo? But our agency terminated the contract with such a player?
Then, it shouldn't be a problem if I signed with this player…
Suddenly, I felt greedy. There was a note about the position mismatch, so perhaps I could guide his growth somewhat, and since he was in deep trouble, maybe I could win his favor by offering help.
And on top of that, his incredibly handsome face.
The impact of having both soccer skills and good looks is beyond imagination. Just like the old David Beckham or the recent Cristiano Ronaldo. He had the perfect conditions to make a name for himself worldwide.
"No, no."
I shook my head. I needed to think calmly. I didn't even know whether it was allowed to sign with another player while being affiliated with an agency, and as I gathered my thoughts, a peculiar piece of information caught my eye.
*20 days until deletion.
Chris Allen's information uniquely had a red background in the fourth message.
Why is it getting deleted?
"Oh!"
I recalled the kitchen staff whose information hadn't appeared at all. Along with the store clerk.
'It's nice here because they don't even know I'm a soccer player.'
So, people unrelated to soccer don't show up here.
I wrote in my notebook that the app only provides information about people related to the soccer world. Then I fell back into thought.
Could it be that Chris Allen's information being deleted meant he would completely leave the soccer world, not even remaining as a fan?
I pressed the only piece of information I hadn't touched from today. The one about the racist jerk I had bumped into while talking to Chris. It had definitely vibrated when we collided.
[Milo Connery]
Affiliated with the gang Red Knife
Broker
Offered Chris Allen a match-fixing proposal
My eyes narrowed.
A gang? Broker? Match-fixing?
There was no need to deduce. Chris Allen would be expelled from the soccer world due to match-fixing.
A player with even greater talent than Aron Ramsey, who might leave his mark in soccer history.
I didn't want to get involved with a gang and match-fixing, but my hand naturally reached for Google to search for Chris Allen.
I found the information quickly after a bit of wandering.
Chris was playing for AFC Wimbledon, a third-division team in South London. He was a goalkeeper, and both the first and second-choice goalkeepers were out for the season, so he had been starting since October.
However, he had an average of 1.5 goals conceded per game, so it seemed they had recently brought in another goalkeeper on loan.
"What am I going to do with this information…?"
But my hand continued to move.
I then discovered that the day Chris's information would be deleted was precisely three weeks later, on the day the match concluded.
"What should I do…?
The worries only deepened with the night.