"What are you doing?!"
The voice of a middle-aged man with a thick London accent rang out angrily.
"Uncle Sol!"
"Dad!!"
Ethan and Roy turned their heads and shouted almost simultaneously. Then they looked at each other in surprise.
York Sol's lungs were about to explode.
He had just returned from his dentist's office when he saw his daughter and Luton Town's new head coach tangled in a rather ambiguous posture at the entrance of the yard.
Sol was a die-hard Luton Town fan. He had welcomed the club's decision to rent his house for the coach and initially had a good impression of Ethan. As a long-time supporter, he had built relationships with many staff members over the years. Since Ethan took over, Sol had heard from the club's security guard, Marquis, about the young coach's dedication. Despite the skepticism surrounding Ethan's appointment, Sol had been willing to support him. After all, he had led Chelsea's U-18 team to an FA Youth Cup victory. Given Luton's financial struggles and internal chaos, Sol believed the new manager deserved a fair chance.
But now, his opinion had changed drastically.
In his eyes, Ethan was just a pig eyeing his precious cabbage!
No father could remain indifferent after seeing his daughter in such an intimate position with another man—especially when she was barefoot.
"I've been raising pigs for 25 years… no, wait, I mean I've been raising this cabbage for 25 years! And now this?!"
At this moment, the situation indeed looked questionable. Roy was leaning against the wall, one high heel raised in her hand, her face flushed. Ethan had one hand on her shoulder and the other holding her shoe. In her attempt to keep him at bay, Roy had instinctively raised her knee—right against Ethan's waist.
Under the dim porch light, it was easy to misunderstand: young man, young woman, holding hands, shoulders close, a knee between them—it looked far worse than it was.
The two locked eyes, realizing just how awkward their posture appeared. Roy quickly pushed Ethan away, though her anger remained.
"Dad!! What are you doing?!!!"
Dad?
Ethan scratched his head. Clearly, there had been a misunderstanding.
"I should be asking you that!" Sol roared. "Who is he—ah no, I know who he is! What is your relationship?! And where exactly is this going?!"
"Uncle Sol…" Ethan began.
"Shut up!!" father and daughter shouted in unison.
Fortunately, the misunderstanding was eventually cleared up, though neither Sol nor Roy gave Ethan a friendly look afterward. Shrugging, Ethan returned to his apartment.
The yard contained two apartments—one rented by the club for Ethan. This arrangement meant he wouldn't have to deal with the Sol family's cold stares for the rest of the night.
For the first time in months, Ethan had a peaceful sleep. When he woke up in the morning, he stretched, his joints cracking satisfyingly. Today was important—his first official match as Luton Town's head coach.
After sitting on his bed for a moment, he got up, got dressed, and washed up. He pulled a black suit from the closet—this was matchday. A proper manager should look the part.
His breakfast was simple: a fried egg, two slices of toast, a banana, and a glass of juice. As he set his plate down, he grabbed the morning newspaper from the mailbox.
As a Chinese man, reading the newspaper over breakfast wasn't his habit, but now that he was working in England, he figured he might as well adapt.
Just as he opened the paper, Roy's voice rang behind him.
"After today, your deception will no longer work. No matter what tricks you use, you'll have to prove yourself on the football field, Mr. Ethan!"
She had just returned from her morning run, wearing a white sports vest and shorts. Her confident stance matched her words.
Ethan smirked, rolling up the newspaper.
"Miss Roy, whether I'm a fraud or not isn't for you to decide."
"Oh? Really? You can read what Sam Parker said in the ninth edition of The Hat Seller." Roy gritted his teeth and leaned toward Ethan, speaking through clenched teeth. "The former Luton forward doesn't exactly have a high opinion of you!"
Ethan flipped open The Hat Seller and turned to the ninth page, where coverage of the pre-match press conference for their upcoming opponent, Port Vale, was printed.
It didn't take long for him to find Sam Parker's remarks in bold print.
"There's no doubt about it—Ethan is a fraud. He fooled Chelsea. He fooled Luton's owner, David Morton. He claimed to have a UEFA A coaching license, but no one has ever seen him produce it—not once. His decisions since taking over at Luton prove that he is completely out of his depth. This is a man who knows nothing about football. He plucked two unknowns from the amateur leagues—kids who were a bricklayer and a stonemason, for God's sake! And now he expects them to perform in professional football? I feel sorry for them."
"He's an arrogant, self-serving manager who refuses to listen to anyone. From day one, he's tried to rule Luton like a dictator. But in this match, I'll show Mr. Ethan what real professional football looks like!"
The article dedicated an entire section to Parker's scathing remarks, yet Ethan read them with surprising amusement.
"Just wait, you fraud! After this match, you'd better pack your bags and go home!" Roy spat before turning toward the apartment door.
Ethan watched her leave, noting the way her snug athletic shorts hugged her frame, her toned hips swaying with each step. Her fitted sports vest revealed a hint of her sculpted back.
"I don't think so, Miss Roy," he murmured, savoring the crisp morning air.
"This game will mark the rise of a great manager."
With that, he rolled up the newspaper and headed in the opposite direction.