Ethan Prepares for the Season Opener
The heated press conference did little to affect Ethan's mood. After nearly two months of pre-season training, his team was finally coming together, and his relentless efforts were beginning to bear fruit. The intense preparations had reached a point where he could afford a brief moment of respite.
Tomorrow marked the start of the season. As a head coach, Ethan had done everything possible to prepare his squad. The tactics were drilled, the players were fit, and the strategies were in place. Now, the outcome would depend on how well his team executed on the pitch. After the press conference, instead of heading straight back to his office, he took a detour around the training ground, observing the well-maintained pitches and the facilities that had become his second home. Eventually, he exited the training base, letting the cool evening air wash over him.
This season held immense promise. Over the past two months, he had worked tirelessly—recruiting key players, shaping the squad's core, and implementing his tactical philosophy. Five of his starting eleven were handpicked signings, blending seamlessly with the squad's existing backbone. Fortunately, many of the senior players had endured a difficult previous season, making them receptive to his ideas. The transition, though challenging, had gone smoother than expected.
One of his secret weapons was the training card system, which had proven invaluable. By increasing training efficiency by 15%, it allowed him to refine his team's playing style at a visible pace. Now, with the first game imminent, Ethan felt a surge of anticipation—not just for the match itself but for the potential rewards. A victory would grant him another chance to draw from the football card system, further strengthening his coaching arsenal.
Currently, he had two cards—one specifically for training. However, he needed more options for match days, making the prospect of expanding his collection even more enticing. With the official fixtures underway, his coaching toolkit would continue to grow, allowing him to fine-tune his squad throughout the campaign.
As dusk set in, Ethan decided to take a stroll through Luton. Though the town was renowned for its industries—automobiles, machinery, and textiles—what intrigued him most were its lively football culture and vibrant pubs. Every time he enjoyed a well-brewed pint, he couldn't help but appreciate the art behind it. However, tonight was not the night for drinks; he simply wanted to unwind before the season's grind resumed.
After grabbing a quick bite of traditional fish and chips from a small alleyway, he made his way back to his apartment. Despite the long hours spent in the club's offices, nothing compared to the comfort of a proper bed—preferably with some pleasant company.
Just as he reached the apartment courtyard, he spotted someone unexpected—Roy Saul, the same fiery journalist from the press conference.
The dim streetlights cast a glow over the scene. A sultry summer night. An unexpected meeting. If this were a couple, the atmosphere might have led to something romantic.
But what if it was two people who had just clashed at a press conference?
Tension still lingered.
Roy Saul's sharp eyes locked onto him, suspicion evident in her expression.
"You again?!" she snapped.
Was this guy following her?
Dressed in a black professional suit, Roy had kicked off her high heels, now gripping them in her hands—pointed defensively at Ethan.
"This is private property!" she warned, her voice betraying a hint of unease.
Ethan reached for his keys, about to enter the courtyard when he paused. He recognized the familiar face—the same bold reporter who had confronted him earlier in the day. Despite the dim lighting, he couldn't help but notice her striking features and the beads of sweat on her forehead from the humid night.
Roy's irritation flared again.
Bastard!
Ethan raised a hand, prepared to explain himself.
"Don't move!!!" Roy raised a football boot high above his head, as if about to launch a penalty kick with everything on the line.
Ethan froze. His eyes flicked down to Roy's bare foot.
"I am—"
"I know exactly who you are!!!" Roy cut him off, voice sharp as a referee's whistle. "You better not have any ulterior motives!!! You fraud!!!"
Ethan's expression darkened. Was this woman insane? Did she just ambush him at his own doorstep for no reason?
"Who are you calling a fraud!?"
"You! You must have tricked Luton's owner into handing you the head coach position! There's no way someone like you deserves the job! You and your squad of amateurs should get out of Luton!! You con artist!"
Roy's chest rose and fell with rage as she glared at him.
"Big breast, no brains…" Ethan muttered under his breath.
"What did you just say?!"
He didn't bother responding. Hands in his pockets, he turned toward the apartment door.
Whoosh—
Instinct kicked in. Ethan dodged just in time to see a black football boot slam into the metal gate behind him.
For a moment, he just stood there, exhaling sharply. Damn it! That could've cracked my skull!
Before he could recover, Roy was already charging toward him, boot in hand like she was about to volley it straight at his face.
This woman is actually insane.
Ethan reacted fast, grabbing Roy's wrist mid-swing. His other hand pressed against her shoulder, pinning her to the wall.
"Are you out of your mind?!" His patience was gone.
The difference in strength was obvious—Roy had no chance of breaking free. She found herself trapped, her back against the cold wall.
And then, suddenly, she noticed the intensity in Ethan's gaze. His sharp eyes, his heavy breathing, the raw determination in his expression.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
What… what is he going to do?!