CHAPTER 178: "NO. YOU MEAN... HE’S YOUR...?"

For a long, frozen moment, Leon just stood there in the park, the cheerful sounds of the afternoon fading into a dull, distant buzz.

The words in his Vision seemed to be physically imprinted on the air in front of him, a nonsensical, reality-bending piece of code.

[Relationship Link Detected: Potential Synergy with Cristian Chivu.]

What?

The system, which had previously only shown links between players on a football pitch, was now detecting... this?

His mind scrambled, trying to find a logical explanation.

Was it a bug? A glitch? Did the system crash after processing the madness of the Juventus match?

He imagined himself explaining it to the team doctor. "Yeah, so, the magical information system in my brain says the girl I just had lunch with has a ’potential synergy’ with my coach. Can I get some aspirin for that?" They’d have him in a padded room before he could even mention the ’Manager Mode’.

He had to know.

The alternative was to let this bizarre, impossible piece of information rattle around in his brain, driving him slowly insane.

He took a deep breath and jogged to catch up with Sofia, who was about to turn the corner at the edge of the park.

"Sofia, wait!" he called out, his voice a little more desperate than he intended.

She turned, a surprised but friendly smile on her face. "Everything okay, footballer? Forget to ask for my autograph?"

"No, sorry," he said, catching his breath as he reached her. "I just... I have a really weird question to ask you. And you have every right to think I’m crazy and walk away."

Her smile turned into a look of genuine, amused curiosity. "Okay, now I’m intrigued. Go on. Ask your crazy question."

He hesitated, trying to phrase it in a way that didn’t sound completely unhinged. "It’s about my coach," he started slowly. "Cristian Chivu. He’s... well, he’s a very intense guy. He’s a legend at the club, but he’s also kind of scary. He’s the most demanding, focused, single-minded person I’ve ever met."

Sofia listened, a strange, unreadable expression on her face.

It was a mix of amusement and something else... familiarity.

"And?" she prompted.

"And," he continued, feeling his way through the sentence, "I was just wondering... do you... know him?"

Sofia didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him, and a slow, wry smile spread across her face. It was the kind of smile a person gives when they’ve been waiting for a very specific, very predictable question their entire life.

"You could say that," she said, her eyes sparkling. "He’s very demanding with me, too. Especially when it comes to finishing my homework and not staying out too late."

Leon’s brain screeched to a halt. The gears stopped turning.

He just stared at her, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with a horrifying, comical slowness.

The ’potential synergy’. The shared intensity. Her familiar, knowing smile.

"Wait," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "No. You mean... he’s your...?"

"My dad," she finished, and then she let out a bright, happy laugh at the look of pure, unadulterated panic on his face.

"Cristian Chivu is my dad."

Leon’s entire professional life flashed before his eyes. He saw himself being forced to do a thousand pushups every time he was a minute late for a date.

He saw his coach analyzing his every conversation with her on a tactics board, pointing out his "poor conversational positioning."

He saw himself being benched for the rest of the season for "conduct detrimental to the team’s defensive structure," which would somehow be linked to him ordering the wrong kind of pasta. His career was over. He’d be playing on loan in Serie C by Christmas.

"You’re... you’re joking, right?" he pleaded, a desperate hope in his voice. "This is a joke?"

"I wish," she said, still chuckling at his meltdown. "Believe me, it’s not exactly a great pickup line at parties. ’Hi, I’m Sofia. My dad is the terrifying man who manages Inter Milan and probably hates all of you.’"

"He doesn’t hate us!" Leon said defensively, before realizing that was probably not the most important point right now. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind a complete mess. "I... I can’t believe it. Of all the coffee shops in all of Milan..."

"Look," she said, her tone softening as she saw his genuine panic. "It’s okay. My dad’s not a monster. He just plays one at work. He’s actually a pretty normal, overprotective, slightly embarrassing dad at home."

"Normal?" Leon squeaked. "I’ve seen him kick a water bottle so hard it entered orbit! I don’t think that’s normal!"

She laughed, a full, heartfelt sound. "Okay, maybe not normal normal. But he separates his work life from his home life. Mostly." She gave him a playful, reassuring nudge. "He’s not going to make you run extra laps just because you bought his daughter a carbonara. I promise."

He looked at her, at her easy, confident smile, and the frantic panic in his chest finally began to subside. It was still a completely insane situation, a plot twist worthy of one of Julián’s weird philosophical questions.

But she was right. It was okay.

"So, does he... know about this?" he asked tentatively.

"That his star player is having lunch with his daughter? Nope," she said cheerfully. "And for now, I think it’s probably better if we keep it that way. Let him focus on winning the Scudetto. Let us just be... us."

"Us," Leon repeated, the word tasting new and exciting. "I like the sound of that."

The drive home was a surreal experience.

One part of his brain was still trying to process the fact that he had just been on a date with the daughter of his terrifying coach.

The other part was replaying her laugh, the sparkle in her eyes, the easy way she’d calmed his ridiculous panic.

He let himself into the apartment, the smell of fresh baking still lingering in the air.

His mother was in the living room, reading a magazine.

"You’re back!" she said, looking up with a smile. "You were gone a long time. Was it a good lunch?"

"Yeah, Mom," he said, a wide, uncontrollable grin spreading across his face. "It was."

"Just ’good’?" she asked, her motherly intuition on high alert. "Your eyes are shining like you just won another Derby."

"I met someone," he admitted, feeling a slight blush creep up his neck. "A girl. She’s... really nice."

His mother’s face lit up with a thousand watts of pure joy. "Oh, Leo! This is wonderful! What is she like? Is she pretty? Is she smart? Does she like football?"

"Yes, yes, and she thinks a 3-3 draw isn’t a real win," he laughed.

"She is a smart girl!" Elena declared, clapping her hands together. "You must bring her for dinner!"

"One step at a time, Mom," he said, still grinning. "I’ve got training tomorrow."

He said goodnight and headed to his room, his heart feeling light and full.

He collapsed onto his bed, replaying the day’s events.

The coffee, the walk, the conversation, the absolutely insane plot twist. He thought about training tomorrow, about seeing his coach.

What would that be like?

He closed his eyes, a happy, tired smile on his face, and decided to check his system one last time. He activated the ’Manager Mode’ and pulled up Chivu’s profile.

All the stats were the same: Motivation 98, The Gambler trait, everything. But right at the bottom, a new line had appeared, updating in real-time. It was a single, simple, and utterly terrifying status.

[Current Status: Observing.]