Parallel world timeline.
December 29, 2011.
Haigeng Training Base Dormitory, Caiyun Province.
Alessandro Dybala stared at the message on his phone, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief—and finally to a faint smirk of resignation.
> "Travel expenses and nutrition fees... for getting selected to the Olympic team?"
Seriously?
The 17-year-old defensive midfielder of the U18 National Youth League—built like a warrior with chiseled muscles and raw power—looked almost amused. His face was rugged, tanned, and undeniably masculine. With thick eyebrows and strong features, he looked more like a man in his mid-twenties than a teenager.
Many had accused him of faking his age. But he hadn't.
Alessandro had earned his starting spot in the national youth team through sheer hard work—running, clashing, fighting for every ball.
At 182 cm and 77 kg, his imposing presence made him stand out even among adults. He had become the rock of the midfield, helping the U18 side stay undefeated in several warm-up matches.
It was perfect timing.
The Olympic team was preparing for the 2012 London Asian qualifiers.
Naturally, Alessandro was on their radar.
Even the Olympic team coach, Blazevic, praised him in interviews, saying, "Every team needs a defensive midfielder like him." While fans obsess over strikers and flashy attackers, coaches know the value of a tireless ball-winner—like Makelele.
Alessandro, nicknamed the "Suicheng Makelele" at just 14, had lived up to that title.
But what happened next?
Was not in any coaching manual.
---
Guo Chao, head of the Olympic team delegation, leaned forward with a smug smile.
> "Xiao Alessandro, think about it," he said in a coaxing tone. "We've been training for almost a year now. You're being added late—that's respect. But surely... you can show some appreciation, right? Just a small gesture."
He held up two fingers.
> "Two hundred thousand. That's all."
Alessandro blinked, stunned.
A bribe?
> "It's not much. You're going to Europe for training. Once you return, you'll have the Olympic experience under your belt. Your provincial team might even promote you to the first team. Play in the top league... think about it. Isn't that worth the money?"
Guo Chao was speaking like it was a bargain. A brilliant investment.
And in some twisted way, he was right.
Alessandro's family, back in Suicheng, wasn't poor. They owned several rental properties, and unlike most kids his age, Alessandro could afford youth training.
That alone made him an exception.
The talent pool in his age group was thin. So thin that when Su Maozhen, the national youth coach, selected his squad, he had barely 80 players to choose from.
In a country of over a billion, fewer than a hundred options?
It wasn't about talent. It was about money.
Youth training was too expensive. And Alessandro had only gotten this far because his family could afford to support his football dream.
Now, that same reality was turning on him.
---
Alessandro crossed his arms. His voice was calm but firm.
> "Leader Guo, isn't that the sponsors' responsibility? Why should the players pay?"
Guo Chao was momentarily taken aback.
He had heard the kid was tough. Arrogant even. A bit of a troublemaker. But he figured that once the perks were dangled in front of him, he'd fold.
After all, who wouldn't pay 200,000 to launch their career?
But this kid…
He wasn't playing by the script.
> "You don't understand everything," Guo Chao said, his tone cooling.
> "I understand enough," Alessandro said coldly. "If you want money, just say so. I don't like playing games."
Truthfully, Alessandro had been thrilled to get the call from the Olympic team. He knew most of the squad were in their 20s and already playing in the top flight.
At 17, being called up was a career-defining moment.
But the red envelope—the blatant bribery—ruined everything.
> "Fine, I'll be clear." Guo Chao leaned forward again. "We're flying to Europe. Big exposure. The Olympic qualifiers. Two hundred thousand, and I guarantee you'll start at least three matches."
> "Plenty of people would kill for this opportunity. And some would pay more than that just to join a first team. You? You're getting a discount."
He smiled smugly. He was certain the boy would give in.
But Alessandro just stared at him.
And then something happened.
---
A sudden voice echoed in Alessandro's mind:
> "Congratulations! You've obtained access to the Pro Evolution Soccer 2011 System!"
> "Please make your choice:
1. Give Guo Chao 200,000 yuan. Lose the system.
2. Refuse to pay. Activate the system."
---
He blinked.
A system?
He didn't fully understand what was happening—but what he did understand was this:
He wasn't paying a damn bribe.
---