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The Golden Trickster

BJMO
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
17-year-old Kaylan Silva, born and raised in the gritty suburbs of Rio de Janeiro, is a street football prodigy. Known for his breathtaking dribbling, wild hair, and unstoppable flair, he dazzles crowds in the favelas with nutmegs, rainbow flicks, and last-minute screamers. His game is electric — a perfect blend of art and chaos — modeled after his idol, Neymar Jr. But behind the dazzling moves and viral clips lies a heavy burden: A father who disappeared chasing a football dream. A mother working two jobs. A brother who joined a local gang to survive. When Kaylan gets scouted by a European academy in Spain, he faces a world full of pressure, jealousy, and brutal expectations — very different from the freedom of the street. Fame follows fast, but so do the haters, the media storms, and teammates who see him as arrogant
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: Street Royalty

The sun was melting into the horizon, casting a golden glow over the cracked concrete streets of Vila Esperança, one of Rio's forgotten neighborhoods.

Kids poured out of small alleyways like water from a burst pipe, chasing a worn-out football that had been stitched together more times than anyone could count.

Dust rose with every step. Laughter echoed. And in the middle of it all was Lucas Santiago—barefoot, grinning, and untouchable.

At twelve years old, Lucas already carried the swagger of someone who knew he was destined for more. His legs moved like magic—fast, precise, unpredictable.

One second, the ball was between his feet; the next, it was chipped over a defender's head, then backheeled to a teammate without even looking.

"Ey, Lucão! Vai com calma, man!" someone shouted after falling for one of his nutmegs.

Lucas just smiled. He didn't mean to embarrass anyone—it was just how he played. With rhythm. With soul. With joy.

Football wasn't just a game for Lucas. It was the only place he felt truly free.

At home, freedom was rare. His mother worked double shifts cleaning apartments in the city.

His father was gone—just a name on his birth certificate and a blurred memory in his head.

But out here, surrounded by sweat and shouts and makeshift goalposts, Lucas was royalty.

That evening, after the game broke up and the street lights flickered to life, Lucas sat on the rooftop of the small building he called home. From up here, he could see the lights of Maracanã Stadium in the far distance. One day, he told himself. One day, I'll be playing there. Not just watching on TV.

He pulled out his phone—an old, cracked device that barely held a charge—and opened a clip he'd watched a hundred times: Neymar Jr. scoring a goal with a rainbow flick and a volley. The crowd roared. The celebration. The glory. Lucas watched it again, eyes locked on the screen.

"I'm gonna be better than him," he whispered. "But I'm gonna do it my way."

Behind him, his mom called out. "Lucas! Banho e janta, agora!"

He groaned but smiled. One more day in Vila Esperança, one more night of dreams. The journey hadn't started yet, but the fire was lit.

Tomorrow, everything could change.