8:15 AM

Bortolotti Training Complex, Zingonia

Training began with the usual warm-up routine, and Demien moved through it on autopilot—dynamic stretches, light jogging, activation drills that his body knew by memory. The morning air was cool, and the grass was still damp from overnight watering.

Gasperini ran them through tactical work for the first hour, focusing on pressing triggers and defensive transitions. The session was intense but not brutal, designed to keep fitness sharp without overloading legs that had ninety minutes against Milan two days ago.

At 10:30 AM, they moved to small-sided games—seven versus seven on half a pitch—and Demien found his rhythm in the second match, completing a through-ball to Lookman that led to a goal and earning a clap from de Roon who was watching from the sideline.

The session ended at 11:45 AM, and players filed off the pitch toward the locker room with conversations floating about weekend plans and recovery protocols.

Demien showered quickly, dressed in casual clothes, and checked his phone while sitting on the bench. No new messages. He pocketed it and headed out.

As he walked through the parking lot toward the bus stop, the familiar chime sounded in his head.

「TRAINING SESSION COMPLETE」

「Quality: Good」

「REWARD: 10 TP」

「Current Balance: 45 TP | 0 SP | 16 MP」

The notification faded, and Demien kept walking. 45 TP. Not enough for a Bronze Pack yet, but getting closer.

********

Wednesday, August 28th, 2022

Bortolotti Training Complex

12:47 PM

Wednesday's session was lighter—recovery work mixed with possession drills—and Gasperini kept the intensity deliberately moderate with Lecce coming up on Sunday for Matchday 3.

Demien moved through the exercises with focus, and when the session ended just after noon, he showered and changed into the outfit he'd brought specifically for the meetings: dark jeans, white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, clean white sneakers. Smart casual, like Marco had instructed.

The system chimed as he was fixing his collar in the mirror.

「TRAINING SESSION COMPLETE」

「Quality: Standard」

「REWARD: 8 TP」

「Current Balance: 53 TP | 0 SP | 16 MP」

He dismissed the notification and grabbed his bag. The parking lot was half-empty when he stepped outside, and he spotted Marco's Mercedes immediately—silver sedan parked near the entrance with the engine running.

Marco lowered the passenger window as Demien approached. "Looking sharp. Get in."

Demien opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, and the cool air conditioning hit him immediately. He set his bag at his feet and buckled in.

"How was training?" Marco asked as he shifted into drive.

"Good. Light session today." Demien settled back into the leather seat. "Gasperini's managing our minutes with Lecce on Sunday."

"Smart." Marco pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the main road. "How are you feeling about this afternoon?"

"Ready," Demien said, and he meant it. The Agent Negotiation Perk trait hummed quietly in the back of his mind—not intrusive, just present, like having an experienced advisor whispering insights. "Three meetings, three opportunities. Let's see what they're offering."

Marco glanced over with a small smile. "I like the confidence. Remember—I'll handle most of the talking, but don't be afraid to speak up if something feels off."

"Like the Atalanta negotiations?"

"Exactly like that." Marco's smile widened. "You surprised everyone in that room, including me. Percassi still mentions it sometimes—says you negotiated like someone with twenty years of experience."

Demien shrugged. "Just wanted fair terms."

"What kind of questions will they ask?" he asked, shifting topics.

"Standard stuff. Your goals for the season. Where you see yourself in five years. What their brand means to you." Marco turned onto the highway toward Milan. "Some of it's genuine interest, some of it's testing how you handle pressure. Just stay calm and thoughtful."

"And if they lowball the offer?"

Marco's expression turned serious. "Then we walk. These meetings are as much about them selling you on their brand as it is about you selling yourself to them. Nike, Adidas, Puma—they're all competing for young talent. If one doesn't value you properly, another will."

Demien nodded, and his hands rested in his lap while the landscape blurred past the window. Fields gave way to industrial zones, then to the outskirts of Milan proper where buildings crowded closer together.

"How have you been, anyway?" Marco asked, and his tone shifted slightly more personal. "I know Sunday was tough."

"I'm alright." Demien's voice was steady. "We competed. That's what matters."

"You did more than compete. I watched the full match replay." Marco's expression was serious. "You held your own against Serie A's best midfield. That's not nothing."

"The goal got called back."

"By centimeters on a technicality," Marco said firmly. "Anyone watching that match saw quality. The scouts saw it. The brands saw it. That's why we're driving to Milan right now."

Demien let that sink in, and the validation felt good even though part of him wanted to deflect it.

"How's the agency work going?" he asked, shifting topics. "You mentioned signing new clients."

"Busy," Marco said, and he smiled slightly. "Three new signings last month—two in Serie B, one in Lega Pro. Nothing as promising as you, but good players who need representation. It's been keeping me on the road a lot."

"That's good though, right? Business is growing."

"It is." Marco changed lanes smoothly. "But it means I'm traveling more. Milan, Rome, Genoa, Naples. Sometimes I'm gone four days a week."

They talked easily after that—about Marco's other clients, about the agency's plans to expand into player management beyond just contract negotiation, about football in general. The conversation flowed naturally, and Demien found himself relaxing as the minutes passed.

The Milan skyline appeared ahead, and Marco navigated through increasingly dense traffic with practiced ease. Twenty minutes later, they pulled into an underground parking garage beneath a modern office building with glass and steel reaching toward the sky.

"Nike's on the eighth floor," Marco said as he parked. "We're fifteen minutes early, which is perfect. Shows we respect their time but aren't desperate."

Demien grabbed his bag and followed Marco to the elevator. The Agent Negotiation Perk trait was already feeding him insights—this wasn't just about accepting whatever Nike offered, this was about finding mutual value, understanding leverage, recognizing fair market rates.

Three meetings. Three brands competing for the same player. That's leverage, he thought as they rose through the floors.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened onto Nike's reception area—sleek design with the swoosh logo prominent on the wall and photos of athletes covering every surface.

Marco stepped out confidently, and Demien followed.

"Ready?" Marco asked quietly.

Demien's expression was calm, focused. "Yeah. Let's see what they've got."

The receptionist looked up with a professional smile. "Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

"Marco Benetti and Demien Walter," Marco said. "We have a two o'clock meeting with Alessandro Moretti."

"Of course. One moment please." She picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Alessandro? Your two o'clock is here. Yes, I'll send them up."

She hung up and gestured toward a hallway to their right. "Conference room three. Second door on the left. Alessandro will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Marco said, and he led the way down the hallway with Demien beside him.

The conference room was impressive—large table, ergonomic chairs, another wall of athlete photos featuring everyone from Cristiano Ronaldo to Kylian Mbappé. A presentation screen occupied one wall, currently dark.

They sat down, and Demien's hands rested on the table in front of him, relaxed but attentive.

"Remember," Marco said quietly. "Let me lead, but don't hesitate to ask questions if something's unclear. You've got good instincts for this."

"I know." Demien's voice was steady. "And if the numbers don't make sense, we discuss it."

Marco smiled. "Exactly."

Footsteps approached from the hallway, and Alessandro Moretti appeared in the doorway with a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

"Marco. Demien. Thank you for coming."

The meeting was about to begin.

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