Carlo's house was exactly what you'd expect from an ex-pro's mansion. White marble formed the backbone of the estate, stretching across towering walls that framed the property like something ripped straight from an architectural magazine. Massive glazed glass windows wrapped around the home, reflecting the afternoon sun so brightly it was almost blinding to look at from the gates.
The driveway alone looked like a luxury dealership showroom.
A matte black Lamborghini Urus sat beside a pearl white Ferrari 488, while a silver Mercedes-Benz G-Class rested near the front entrance like it had been carelessly abandoned after a quick trip. Further down the drive, another car sat hidden beneath a silk cover, adding even more mystery to Carlo's collection.
Every vehicle screamed wealth.
Every corner of the property did.
The shrubbery surrounding the estate looked less like landscaping and more like someone had imported an entire rainforest into their front garden.
Towering palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, exotic flowers bloomed in carefully maintained patches, and vines curled around stone pillars with almost unnatural precision. Somewhere deeper into the greenery, the faint sound of running water echoed from what was likely a fountain larger than most people's apartments.
Carlos stood at the gates for a moment, staring upward.
The house felt less like a home and more like everything football could buy. He looked down at his worn trainers, their soles beginning to peel slightly at the edges.
Then back at the mansion. For a second, he wondered if he even belonged here. Before he could overthink it, the front doors swung open.
"Welcome, to the Carlos mansion boys. This is where I train the very best, and where I house my children. Very nice indeed."
"Holy shit Gabi. I've never seen such a thing in my life." Noa's hands raised over his head. "This is AMAZING!!!!"
My eyes traveled around the house in shock and awe.
The front doors alone were taller than the apartment building I grew up in. Two maids stood at either side of the entrance dressed in black uniforms, bowing slightly as Carlo spread his arms like he was unveiling a trophy.
"You may clap now," Carlo said proudly.
Noa actually started clapping.
I stared at him.
"You're joking."
"No," Noa said, still applauding. "This man is living like a movie villain and I respect it."
Carlo placed a hand over his chest dramatically. "Finally. Someone here understands greatness."
He clicked his fingers.
The covered car in the driveway was suddenly unveiled by one of the house staff, revealing a crimson Bugatti Chiron that practically glowed under the sunlight.
Noa let out a noise I didn't think humans could physically make.
"IS THAT A BUGATTI?!"
Carlo smirked. "It is."
"You own a Bugatti?"
"I own two."
Noa nearly collapsed.
I rubbed my temples. "Why do you need two?"
Carlo looked genuinely offended.
"Why does an artist need two paint brushes?"
"That might be the worst comparison I've ever heard."
"It was beautiful."
"It was terrible."
Carlo ignored me and began walking toward the entrance.
"Come. There is much to see."
The inside somehow felt even more ridiculous.
The ceilings stretched endlessly upward, decorated with chandeliers that looked older than entire countries. Marble floors reflected our faces beneath our feet while expensive paintings lined the walls. Some looked historical.
Others were just portraits of Carlo.
One showed him lifting the FIFA World Cup.
Another had him standing beside Cristiano Ronaldo.
Another was simply Carlo shirtless on a beach for absolutely no reason.
"Noa…" I muttered.
"Yeah?"
"Why is there a giant painting of him winking?"
Noa stared at it.
"…I kinda want one."
Carlo turned with a grin.
"That was taken during my prime. I was devastatingly handsome."
"You're still handsome, sir," one of the maids said immediately.
Carlo nodded. "Thank you, Maria."
I blinked.
"Did she just…"
"Yes," Noa whispered. "This place is insane."
Feet thundered down the stairs.
Lots of them.
I looked up just in time to see four children sprinting toward us at full speed.
"PAPAAAAAA!"
Carlo's expression immediately changed.
The arrogant grin disappeared.
His entire face softened.
And before I could process it, all four kids crashed into him at once.
A little girl with curly hair clung to his leg.
Two boys jumped onto his back.
The oldest, maybe fourteen tried to act cool but still hugged him anyway.
"Papa, you said you'd be home tomorrow!"
"My meeting ended early," Carlo laughed, lifting the youngest into his arms. "Did you miss me?"
"No."
"Yes you did."
"…a little."
Noa stared in complete confusion.
"You have FOUR kids?"
Carlo looked offended.
"Five."
We both froze.
"What?"
A woman's voice echoed from the upper floor.
"Because you keep forgetting I exist."
Both me and Noa slowly looked up.
A woman leaned against the staircase railing, arms folded.
She was effortlessly beautiful.
Dark hair.
Sharp eyes.
The kind of presence that made an entire room go quiet.
And judging by the look on Carlo's face, He was terrified.
"My love," Carlo said nervously.
She smiled.
It looked dangerous.
"You disappeared for three days and returned with two teenage footballers."
Carlo laughed awkwardly.
"When you say it like that it sounds strange."
"It is strange."
Her eyes shifted toward us, then softened slightly.
"And who are these two?"
Carlo straightened himself up.
"This…" he said proudly, pointing at me.
"…is Gabriel."
Then he pointed at Noa.
"And this loud one is Noa."
"HEY."
She walked down the stairs slowly. "Are these the boys you were talking about?"
Carlo nodded. "The future of football."
Her eyes scanned both of us.
I felt like I was being judged by royalty.
"Well then…" she said softly.
"Welcome home."
The warmth of Carlo's family home faded as quickly as it had arrived.
Not because anyone had done anything wrong.
But because the second dinner ended, Carlo became someone else entirely.
The playful father who had been carrying his daughter on his shoulders and arguing with his son over dessert portions disappeared the moment we entered his private office.
The room itself was enormous, naturally.
Dark oak shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with trophies, framed shirts, medals, and old footballs locked behind glass cases. There were jerseys from clubs all over the world hanging on the walls.
FC Barcelona
AC Milan
Manchester United
Brazil national football team
One frame in particular caught my eye.
A younger Carlo stood beside Lionel Messi and Neymar, all three smiling after lifting the UEFA Champions League trophy.
Noa was practically drooling.
"I'm stealing one of these shirts before I leave."
"You steal from me," Carlo said as he walked toward his desk, "and I will personally have security launch you into the ocean."
Noa laughed.
Carlo didn't.
Noa slowly stopped laughing.
"…you're joking."
Carlo sat down in his chair.
"Sit."
The way he said it made both of us obey instantly.
He pressed a button on his desk and a projector dropped from the ceiling.
The lights dimmed.
A massive screen lit up.
The logo of the FIFA U-20 World Cup appeared.
My eyebrows furrowed.
Noa leaned forward.
Carlo folded his hands together and looked at both of us with an intensity that immediately changed the atmosphere in the room.
"You two think too small."
Silence filled the room.
I frowned.
"What?"
He stood up and pointed toward the screen.
"You think becoming professionals is the dream."
His eyes shifted toward me.
"You think surviving your current situation is enough."
Then they shifted to Noa.
"You think becoming famous and buying stupid expensive watches is enough."
Noa awkwardly looked down at his wrist.
"I don't even own a watch."
"Exactly. You are behind schedule."
I nearly laughed.
Carlo continued.
"The world does not care about local tournaments."
The screen changed.
Footage began rolling.
Youth academies.
Packed stadiums.
National team badges.
Young players tearing through defenders like they were training cones.
The first badge appeared.
Spain national under-20 football team
Brazil national under-20 football team
Argentina national under-20 football team
"These," Carlo said quietly, "are monsters."
The clips kept playing.
"Two years from now, the U-20 World Cup will take place."
He paused.
"And both of you will be there."
Noa blinked.
I stared at him.
Then I laughed.
I genuinely thought he was joking.
He wasn't smiling.
"You can't be serious."
Carlo slammed his hand onto the desk.
"I am deadly serious."
The room fell silent.
He walked toward us.
"You two have gifts that cannot be taught."
He pointed at me.
"Gabriel, your control over the game is unnatural for your age. You see things before they happen."
Then he pointed at Noa.
"You are chaos in human form. Defenders panic when you run at them."
Noa smiled proudly.
"Thank y—"
"You also make terrible decisions."
Noa's smile vanished.
"Oh."
Carlo turned back toward the screen.
"In three days…"
The screen changed again.
A map zoomed into Eindhoven.
Then the badge appeared.
PSV Eindhoven
Both of us stared.
"You're sending us there?"
"No."
He smiled.
"I'm sending you there to suffer."
"…what?"
Carlo leaned against his desk.
PSV Eindhoven highlights began playing.
The speed was absurd.
The precision was terrifying.
One midfielder completely controlled an entire match.
A striker scored from angles that didn't make sense.
A defender bulldozed attackers like they were children.
"These boys," Carlo said, "are expected to dominate Europe at youth level."
He looked directly at us.
"And I want you to see how far away you currently are."
That one stung.
Noa sat back quietly.
Carlo softened his tone slightly.
"You are not going there as stars."
He slid two plane tickets across the desk: Eindhoven to home.
Departure: three days.
"You are going there as observers."
I picked up the ticket slowly.
Noa stared at his like it might explode.
"What exactly are we supposed to do there?"
Carlo smiled.
That terrifying smile again.
"Watch them. Learn them."