The article about Viktor Kristensen left Ethan's mind buzzing.
The knowledge was a heavy, thrilling secret. He knew he should be strategizing, planning for the match against Leo, but his brain felt fried. He needed to disconnect.
"..."
The next morning, he made a conscious decision to leave the pod alone.
He came downstairs to find 'Gaffer' the puppy engaged in a ferocious battle with a slipper, a tiny, fluffy warrior defending the living room from imaginary foes.
His sister, Sarah, was on the sofa, sipping coffee and actually smiling as she watched the spectacle.
"Morning," Ethan said, scooping up the victorious puppy. "Did he let you get any sleep?"
"Barely," Sarah admitted, but her tone was light.
"He whined by the door at 3 a.m. But it's hard to stay mad at that face." She looked at Ethan, her expression softening. "It's good to see you out of your room. I was starting to worry you were going to turn into a virtual ghost."
"Nah," Ethan said, ruffling Gaffer's fur. "Just had a tough match yesterday. Needed a break."
They spent the morning as a family. Ethan helped his dad in the toy shop, dusting shelves of charming, old-fashioned wooden toys that seemed a world away from the high-tech pod upstairs. He listened to his mom talk about her garden.
He even let Sarah lecture him for ten minutes about his university applications, which he promised, for the tenth time, to start on soon. It was normal. It was real. And after the intensity of the last few days, it was exactly what he needed.
Just after lunch, his phone buzzed. It was Leo, but it wasn't the usual excited, all-caps message.
Leo:Dude, bad news. You need to come with me to the hospital.
Ethan's heart sank.
Ethan:What happened?! Are you okay?
Leo:I'm fine. It's Liam.
Liam. The third member of their trio. Liam O'Connor was their friend, but he was also more than that. While Ethan and Leo were obsessing over tactics and stats from the sidelines, Liam was living it. He was a real player, a talented, hard-tackling midfielder in the U21 setup for their local professional club. He was the one who was actually going to make it.
Ethan:What happened to Liam?
Leo:He was in a training ground accident yesterday. A bad tackle. They're saying it's a double leg fracture. He's out for the season. Maybe longer.
The news hit Ethan like a physical blow. A double leg fracture. For a young player on the cusp of breaking into the first team, it was a potential career-ender.
Ethan:I'm on my way.
They met outside the hospital, the cheerful, sunny day a stark contrast to their somber mood. They found Liam in a private room, his entire right leg encased in a massive cast, elevated on a pile of pillows. He looked pale and exhausted, but he managed a weak smile when he saw them.
"Look what the cat dragged in," Liam rasped, his voice hoarse. "Come to see the patient in his natural habitat?"
"We brought you trashy magazines and bad grapes," Leo said, placing a small bag on the bedside table, trying to keep the mood light.
"How are you, man? Really?" Ethan asked, pulling up a chair.
Liam sighed, the bravado fading. "It's… bad. The doctors are talking about surgery, pins, a year of rehab. A whole year, guys. My contract is up at the end of the season. They're not going to renew a broken player."
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the harsh reality of a footballer's fragile career filling the room.
This was the dark side of the beautiful game.
They tried to cheer him up, talking about school, about stupid things they'd done as kids, about anything other than football.
But the sport was the glue that held them together, and avoiding it felt unnatural.
"So," Liam said finally, looking at them. "Anything exciting happen with you two? Distract me."
Ethan and Leo exchanged a look. It was a silent, intense conversation. Should we? Can we? Liam was their best friend. He was also now a man with nothing but time, his entire world ripped out from under him.
The game… it could be an escape. It could be a way for him to stay connected, to use his incredible football brain while his body healed.
Ethan made the decision. "Liam," he began slowly. "Something… did happen. Something big. And you're not going to believe it."
For the next hour, they told him everything. They started with the GridironGuru Gauntlet, the prize, the pod. Liam listened with a skeptical frown.
Then they told him about Apex United, about Orion FC, about the real player rosters and the wonderkids. Liam's frown deepened.
"So, it's like an ultra-realistic Football Manager?" Liam asked.
"More," Leo said, leaning forward excitedly.
"You don't just click buttons. You're there. You're on the touchline, you talk to the players, you smell the grass."
Then, Ethan told him about the news reports. About 'Prodigy' getting the Manchester United job. About the other beta testers getting real-world coaching gigs.
Liam stared at them, his skepticism finally cracking, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief.
"You're serious? You think this game is actually… real? Like, it's connected?"
"We don't know how," Ethan admitted. "But it's too much to be a coincidence. My wonderkid gets a transfer rumor the day I sign him. The top players from the game are getting real jobs. It's some kind of… scouting platform. A management simulator that's more than a simulation."
Liam was quiet for a long time, processing the impossible story. He looked down at his cast, then back at his two best friends, their faces earnest and excited.
"So you're both managers now," Liam said, a strange mix of emotions in his voice—sadness, curiosity, and a flicker of something else. "In this… secret world."
"Yeah," Leo said softly. "We are."
"And you're playing each other in a couple of days?"
"The first-ever Couch-Leo derby," Ethan confirmed with a grin.
Liam let out a long, slow breath. "A double leg fracture," he said, more to himself than to them. "The physio said I won't be able to even think about kicking a ball for at least nine months. Nine months of sitting in this bed, watching my career wash away."
He looked up, and for the first time since they'd arrived, the flicker in his eyes wasn't sadness. It was the sharp, analytical glint of a professional footballer.
"You said it uses a real player database, right?" Liam asked.
"Yeah, the most comprehensive one in the world, apparently," Ethan replied.
"And you can scout players? See their stats, their potential?"
"It costs money, but yeah," Leo said.
Liam's gaze became distant, his mind clearly working, processing information in a way only a professional player could.
He knew the youth leagues, the hidden talents, the dressing room whispers that never made it into the news.
"When you get home," Liam said, his voice suddenly firm, his focus absolute. "I want you to log on. I want you to look up a player for me. He's not in a big league. You won't find him on any news sites."
Ethan and Leo leaned in, captivated.
"He plays for Bohemians, in the Irish league," Liam continued.
"He's an 18-year-old winger. His name is David Kerrigan. We played against their youth team in a friendly last year. He's got a low center of gravity, lightning-fast for the first five yards, and a left foot like a magic wand. But he's inconsistent. Has attitude problems. Our scouts passed on him."
Liam locked eyes with Ethan.
"Look him up in your game. Tell me what his potential is. Tell me what the 'all-seeing' game thinks of a real hidden gem."