Arthur burst out laughing the moment Mendes finished speaking. His laughter was genuine, deep, and disarmingly relaxed — the kind of laugh that made you unsure whether he was amused or scheming.
"You really are something, Mr. Mendes," Arthur said between chuckles, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "No wonder half the transfer market in Europe dances to your tune. When Mino brought up the same idea, he took twice as long to make up his mind as you did."
Mendes smiled modestly, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. "You flatter me, Mr. Morgan. Before your Leeds United came storming onto the scene, I did have my share of big transfers. But lately…" He paused, swirling the coffee in his cup as though searching for the right words. "It seems every top deal in Europe somehow leads back to you."
Arthur arched an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? Which ones are you referring to?"
Mendes gave a small, knowing grin. "Well, for instance, last winter—Maicon to Real Madrid. And before that, in the summer—Kaka to Leeds. The biggest headline transfers of the year, both involving your club one way or another."
Arthur didn't deny it. In fact, the mention of those two names only made his grin widen. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to something more deliberate — the kind of tone people use before dropping something explosive.
"Mr. Mendes," Arthur said softly, "if you want, I can make sure the next record-breaking transfer or two… are tied to you."
The words hit Mendes like a cold slap.
Next top bidder?
Tied to me?
His eyebrows twitched, and for a split second, he wondered if he'd heard wrong. Arthur's phrasing wasn't casual — it sounded like an offer, but also like a challenge. Mendes's mind immediately began calculating: Does he want to buy one of my players? Or… something else?
He mentally flipped through his roster like a deck of cards — every name, every client, every potential fit for a club like Leeds. And then, all at once, one face froze in his mind: a sharp-featured young man, diamond stud glinting from his left ear, full of swagger and ambition.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. Mendes's pupils dilated, and for the first time all afternoon, his composure cracked. He leaned forward, eyes wide, his voice almost trembling as he stammered, "Wait—no way! You… you want to buy Cristiano?"
Arthur smiled like a magician who'd just pulled a rabbit from a hat. Calm, unbothered, completely in control. "You're very sharp, Mr. Mendes."
That one sentence was confirmation enough.
Mendes froze, the cogs in his mind grinding violently. Then came the inner scream: Impossible!
There was no way this could happen. Not because Arthur couldn't afford Ronaldo—Leeds's newfound wealth had already shaken Europe's hierarchy—but because of Ronaldo himself.
The Portuguese star's dream had always been Real Madrid. Everyone knew it. Even if he were to leave Manchester United, Leeds United would never be on his list. Not second, not third, not even tenth.
Mendes knew that better than anyone. He remembered the quiet conversations with Sánchez, the Real Madrid sporting director. Two years ago, Sánchez had made it clear — "We'll bring Cristiano to Madrid. It's not a matter of if, only when."
Earlier that very year, at a gala in Monaco, Sánchez had even approached Mendes again. Over champagne and polite small talk, he'd asked, "So, Jorge, is your boy ready to leave Manchester yet?" When Mendes admitted that Cristiano had started thinking about it, Sánchez's face had practically lit up. He even floated an unofficial bid soon after—until Ferguson shut the door in his face.
So now, sitting in a snow-dusted café in Interlaken, hearing Arthur Morgan calmly declare he wanted to buy Cristiano Ronaldo, Mendes felt like he'd just stepped into a parallel universe.
It wasn't arrogance or disbelief—it was sheer, logistical madness. How could Leeds United compete with Real Madrid for Cristiano?
But even as those thoughts swirled, Mendes's instincts — the same ones that had made him the most powerful agent in Europe — told him something crucial: he couldn't say no. Not here, not now.
Arthur Morgan wasn't the kind of man you dismissed. Not when he spoke so casually about reshaping the football market.
And deep down, Mendes understood the real meaning behind this meeting.
If he wanted to enjoy the same privileges as Raiola — that secret pipeline of talent flowing straight from Leeds — then there was only one way to earn it.
He'd have to bring Cristiano Ronaldo to Arthur Morgan.
The realization landed with the weight of a transfer clause. Mendes exhaled quietly, setting his cup down as his mind began to shift gears — from disbelief to calculation, from surprise to ambition.
The room fell into a momentary silence, broken only by the faint clink of coffee cups and the muffled hum of the café outside.
*****
"Damn… what a mess."
Mendes rubbed his temples, looking like a man who'd just realized he'd cornered himself in a chess game. His expression tightened into what could only be described as constipation mixed with regret.
He knew exactly how impossible this was going to be. Convincing Cristiano Ronaldo to join Leeds United? That was like convincing a shark to live in a swimming pool. But at the same time, Mendes didn't want to turn down Arthur. Not when Leeds's youth academy was practically minting walking bags of money every season.
Arthur's players weren't just talents — they were assets. Future Ballon d'Or nominees, Champions League stars, and more importantly for an agent like Mendes… endless streams of commission.
So as torn as he felt, Mendes gritted his teeth and began thinking fast. I have to at least try. If he couldn't deliver Cristiano, maybe he could smooth things out by offering other players. Yes… if I can't get him Ronaldo, maybe I can send him someone else. That'll keep him happy.
After a moment of mental gymnastics, Mendes finally spoke, careful to sound diplomatic.
"Mr. Morgan," he began, his voice soft but measured, "I'm not sure if you know much about Cristiano's background. Ah… how should I put it… even if he agrees to leave Manchester United, there's a strong chance he wouldn't choose Leeds. You see, he seems to already have a certain club in mind."
Arthur's gaze sharpened. He looked at Mendes for a few seconds, then smiled — but it wasn't exactly friendly. There was humor in it, yes, but also a glint that could cut glass.
Ah, so that's it, Arthur thought. The boy wants to be king.
He could already guess what Mendes wasn't saying, but he wasn't about to make things easy for him. So Arthur leaned forward slightly, still smiling. "Oh? And which club might that be?"
Mendes hesitated. For the first time that afternoon, his confident façade cracked. He looked away, then back at Arthur, and forced a dry laugh.
"Well… it's a little inconvenient to say directly. But before Cristiano joined Manchester United, he did tell me which team he dreamed of joining one day."
Arthur waved it off with a light chuckle. "Ah, a childhood dream then? Hahaha… come on, Jorge. We all had those. But Cristiano's not a kid anymore — he's a professional. And as a professional, he knows a good deal when he sees one. I think you also understand that Leeds is a very well-run club right now. If he joins us, I can guarantee him something substantial — not just salary, but global exposure, and a team built around his strengths.
"And as for you, Mr. Mendes…" Arthur smirked slightly, raising an eyebrow, "I'm sure your commission won't disappoint you either."
Mendes gave an awkward smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not really about money, Mr. Morgan," he said diplomatically, though his tone betrayed how much it was about money. "You see, Cristiano is… well, he's a special kind of player. Extremely driven, extremely proud. For him, money is secondary. What he really values is challenge — the team's ambition, the coach's reputation, the squad's strength…"
Arthur's smile slowly faded. His eyes narrowed, voice dropping an octave colder. "Oh? Are you saying I'm not qualifiedto coach him, Mr. Mendes?"
"Ah—!" Mendes froze mid-sentence. He blinked, realizing he'd just stepped right into a landmine. His face paled slightly as he threw up his hands in panic. "No, no, no, Mr. Morgan! That's absolutely not what I meant! Please don't misunderstand! You've accomplished more in two or three years than most coaches manage in a lifetime!"
He spoke fast, almost tripping over his words. "You took a club that was bankrupt, practically in ruins, and not only brought it back to the Premier League, but won the league title and made the Champions League quarterfinals! If you'renot qualified to coach Cristiano, then honestly, who is?!"
Arthur said nothing for a few seconds. The silence stretched out just long enough for Mendes to start sweating. Then Arthur's lips curved upward again — but the warmth from before was gone.
"So what you're really saying," Arthur said quietly, "is that my team isn't good enough for him, correct?"
Mendes blinked rapidly. "No, no, I didn't mean—"
Arthur leaned forward, his gaze pinning the agent to his chair. "Mr. Mendes, you're one of the most famous agents in Europe. So tell me, from your professional perspective…" His tone sharpened, every word deliberate. "Do you think Leeds United's current lineup ranks in the top three in the Premier League in terms of market value?"
Mendes's lips parted — but no sound came out.
Arthur's stare didn't waver. "Come on. You're an expert, right? Answer me honestly."
"I—" Mendes's throat tightened. He looked to the side, searching for words that wouldn't get him killed. His mind was screaming don't say yes, don't say no, don't offend him, don't look weak!
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut. The faint ticking of a wall clock filled the silence like background percussion.
Arthur's jaw was tight, his expression calm but dangerous — the kind of calm that felt more threatening than outright anger. Mendes swallowed hard.
At this point, the poor agent truly wanted to slap himself twice.
Idiot! Absolute idiot! Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut!?
He forced a shaky laugh and tried to recover. "Mr. Morgan, of course, Leeds's lineup is one of the strongest in England — no, in Europe! Your players' value isn't just in money, it's in potential, in development! The market can't even measure that properly yet!"
Arthur didn't answer right away. He leaned back slowly, folding his arms, expression unreadable.
Mendes, desperate to smooth things over, kept talking, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. "And of course, Cristiano would be lucky — honored, even — to work under you! Really, I'll… I'll talk to him personally. Try to make him see your vision. You know how young players are — they just need the right… guidance, yes?"
Arthur tilted his head, still silent.
Mendes smiled weakly, forcing himself to sound cheerful. "Hahaha… right?"
Nothing. Just that cold, unreadable stare.
Inside, Mendes cursed himself again. Perfect, Jorge. Brilliant. You've managed to annoy the one man who can make or break your entire business in England.
If there had been a way to rewind the last ten minutes, Mendes would've done it in a heartbeat.
He picked up his cup again, hiding his embarrassment behind another sip of coffee — though this time, it tasted suspiciously like regret.
Across from him, Arthur finally spoke again, voice calm but sharp as a blade.
"Careful, Mr. Mendes," he said evenly. "In football, confidence is good. But knowing who you're talking to… is better."
Mendes forced a grin and nodded rapidly. "O-of course, Mr. Morgan. My deepest apologies."
Arthur said nothing more, only lifted his cup, his faint smirk returning. But this time, it wasn't friendly — it was the smile of a man who'd already decided how the next move on the board would play out.
And across the table, Mendes sat frozen, regretting every word he'd just said.