"Hmm… one of the reasons," Sabrina said at last, her tone smooth — too smooth — curling like smoke. "But not the main one."

Her eyes didn't blink. Calculating. Almost predatory.

Julian held her gaze, unmoved.

"I'll be honest, Mr. Ashford," she continued, leaning back slightly, cup poised near her lips. "My instinct drew me to you. It's never failed me — and it's the reason I'm sitting across from you right now instead of some boardroom full of old men."

She sipped her coffee slowly, the sound of it almost deliberate — confident, unhurried.

Julian studied her. Late twenties, sharp posture, every word measured like she'd rehearsed power.

David had said half the Bundesliga worked with her.

Now, he could see why.

"Like David mentioned," Julian said evenly, fingers tapping once on the table, "you're here to assess me. What kind of asset are we talking about, exactly?"

Sabrina smiled faintly — not warmth, but amusement. "Direct. I like that."

She set her cup down, the porcelain clicking against wood. "To answer your question — not the kind of asset that can be bought. The kind that shapes markets. The kind that sells stories."

Her gaze swept across him again, dissecting.

"You've already got the game. The numbers, the highlights, the buzz. But I'm here to see if you have presence. If you can hold a narrative."

Julian tilted his head slightly. "You mean fame."

Sabrina shook hers. "No. Fame is loud. I'm talking about gravity — the thing that makes people lean in when your name shows up."

She leaned forward, eyes narrowing a fraction. "And right now, Julian Ashford, the world is beginning to lean."

The words hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite. Julian didn't show it, but something deep inside him stirred — not pride, but a recognition of danger.

He'd seen this kind of power before, on the field, in negotiations, in those who thought they could script destiny. Sabrina Weiss didn't just see opportunity; she designed it.

Julian didn't reply immediately. The rain outside had grown heavier, tracing blurred rivers down the glass.

For a moment, he saw his reflection beside hers — the calm storm in his eyes, and the calculating gleam in hers. Two players, same table, different games.

"So…" Julian said quietly. "You want to turn me into a story."

Sabrina's lips curved — slow, deliberate. "No, Julian. You already are one. I just make sure the world reads it correctly."

Her gaze sharpened, voice dropping lower, velvet edged with iron.

"But before I can lend you my craft… you need to prove you're worth writing about. Worth architecting a future for."

Julian blinked once.

For a split second, with the café lights reflecting in her eyes, she looked almost supernatural — like a witch weaving fate through conversation.

Or maybe she really was.

Julian leaned back, fingers steepled, his mind running faster than his heartbeat. Every test he'd faced so far had been physical — now it was optical. Reputation, narrative, memory.

The kind of fight that didn't leave bruises, only headlines.

He exhaled, calm. "What do I need to do?"

Sabrina leaned forward, elbows on the table, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Simple. I'll give you a mission."

Julian's pulse stirred. Missions… he knew that word too well.

And right on cue—

…

[System Quest Alert]

The Architect's Test

Objective: Make three viral clips by the end of the season. Each must be positive — goals, celebrations, or moments that capture attention.

Time Limit: End of Current Season

Reward: Contract with Sabrina Weiss + Fame-Boosting Item

Penalty: Lose Sabrina Weiss's Interest

[Accept Quest?]

[YES]  [NO]

…

Julian didn't even hesitate.

"Yes. Deal. Three viral clips."

At that exact moment, the HUD flickered—

[Quest Accepted]

Sabrina's smile deepened, knowing. "Good." She stood, finishing her coffee with one elegant motion. "Then I'll be waiting, Julian Ashford. Make the world talk — and make me proud I chose you."

Her heels clicked softly against the tile as she turned toward the door.

Julian sat back, watching her go — that strange chill of curiosity and challenge sparking in his chest.

He'd faced monsters before.

But this?

This was a different kind of battle.

The kind fought in headlines, screens, and hearts.

And Julian Ashford — The Emperor of Youth — had just accepted the Architect's test.

…

After sealing the deal, Julian and Sabrina finally turned to the food they'd ordered.

The air between them had shifted — less business, more unspoken curiosity.

He noticed how quickly she adapted her tone — one moment a strategist, the next a companion. It wasn't flirting; it was control. Even her silence was calculated to draw out answers.

Sabrina scrolled through Julian's phone, checking his social media.

One glance, and her perfectly composed face twisted.

"Are you kidding me?" she said flatly. "You post like a retired veteran. You're a Gen Z athlete, Julian — you're supposed to exist online."

Julian grimaced. "Let's just say I'm… a little different."

"A little?" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You live like an eighty-year-old striker who still uses flip phones."

Julian smirked faintly. "Maybe I prefer being unpredictable."

"Unpredictable doesn't trend," she shot back.

"Then I'll make it trend."

The words slipped out before he realized it — calm, certain. The kind of confidence that came from survival, not ego.

Julian chuckled quietly, taking another bite of his food. "Guess I'll need to learn fast then."

Sabrina leaned back, smirk returning. "Don't worry. Finish those three viral clips first. Once you do, I'll build your image myself — the right way."

Julian nodded, calm but determined. "Then you'd better get ready. It won't take long."

Her eyes glinted, amused. "We'll see."

They ate in companionable silence after that — two players of different worlds, already setting the board for something larger.

…

When Julian stepped out of the café, David was already waiting in the car, tapping his phone against the steering wheel.

He looked up as Julian slid into the passenger seat.

"So?" David asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "How'd it go?"

Julian exhaled. "Well…" He explained everything — the challenge, the so-called Architect's Quest, the deal about three viral clips.

By the time he finished, David was shaking his head, half-laughing.

"So the rumors are true," he muttered.

Julian frowned. "Rumors?"

"That Sabrina Weiss gives quests to her clients. Like some NPC in a video game."

Julian smirked faintly. "Yeah… sounds about right."

The car fell silent for a few beats. Outside, the rain thinned, and neon lights smeared against the windshield like streaks of red and gold. Julian's reflection looked back at him — tired, hungry, but alive.

This wasn't about followers or fame anymore. It was another test of control. Another system to master.

David started the car, the city lights flickering across the windshield as they pulled into traffic.

"Well, at least you've got her attention now," he said. "Just make sure you finish that quest. If you do, you won't just have an agent — you'll have an empire behind you."

Julian nodded slowly, eyes on the road ahead. "Then I'll build it one clip at a time."

The car rolled through the glowing streets of Hamburg — toward Alster Heights, toward training, toward whatever came next.

Tomorrow, the academy would call again.

And the Emperor would rise with it.

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