Saturday morning, 6:00 AM. Lucas woke with a start, the pain in his shoulder brutally bringing him back to reality. He lay still, staring at the cracked ceiling of his room, listening to his mother preparing breakfast before her first job of the day.
[Status: Day 1 of recovery][Shoulder: 5% functional][Estimated time until healed: 27-41 days]
Twenty-seven days minimum. Almost a month without being able to hold a racket. But Lucas had made a decision during his sleepless night: if he couldn't train his body, he would train his mind.
He got up painfully, struggled into a t-shirt, and left his room. His mother was in the kitchen, already in her cleaning uniform.
"Lucas! You're up early." She frowned seeing how he held his arm. "Is everything okay?"
"Just a bit sore after last night." The lie burned his throat. "Mom, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, sweetheart."
"Do you still have your library card?"
She smiled, surprised. "In the living room drawer. You want to read?"
"Something like that."
After his mother left, Lucas searched through the drawer and found the card. François Mitterrand Library. Free. Perfect.
[New quest: "Knowledge is Power"][Objective: Study tennis theory during recovery][Reward: ?]
Lucas took the metro, wincing at every jolt. Other passengers avoided him, seeing a tired-looking young man protecting his arm. He got off at the Bibliothèque station, impressed despite himself by the four glass towers rising before him.
Inside, he headed to the search computers. His left-hand fingers were clumsy on the keyboard, but he persevered.
Tennis - Sports psychologySports nutritionTennis biomechanicsVideo analysis - TechniquePhysical preparation - Injuries
The list of available books was impressive. Lucas noted the references, then went hunting through the shelves.
First book: "The Champion's Mind" by Dr. Sarah Chen. Lucas settled into a quiet corner and began reading.
"The difference between a good player and a champion lies not only in technique, but in the ability to manage pressure. The brain can be trained like a muscle..."
[Progress: Sports Psychology 0% → 15%]
Lucas devoured the book. Visualization. Pre-match routine. Stress management. Each concept was a revelation. For three years, he'd believed tennis was only physical. What a mistake.
He took notes in a notebook bought for 2 euros, writing awkwardly with his left hand. His mother had always pushed him to write well. "A clear mind expresses itself clearly," she'd say. He smiled thinking of her.
Second book: "Nutrition for the Modern Athlete". Lucas learned about macronutrients, meal timing, optimal hydration. He mentally reviewed his usual shopping list: pasta, bread, sometimes low-grade meat. No wonder he had so little endurance.
[Progress: Nutrition 0% → 20%]
But applying it cost money. Quality proteins, fresh vegetables, supplements... He calculated quickly. 150 euros per month minimum for proper nutrition. With their combined income of 900 euros and 650 rent...
He shook his head. One problem at a time.
Third book: "Biomechanics Applied to Tennis". More technical, more complex. Lucas had to reread certain passages several times. Optimal angles, force transfer, muscle chains. He finally understood why his serve was so weak: his technique had been wrong from the start. A revelation that could change his game once healed.
The afternoon passed quickly. Lucas's back hurt from leaning over books, his left hand was cramped from writing so much, but his mind buzzed with ideas.
2:30 PM. The meeting with A.S. was approaching. Lucas packed his things and headed to Café de Flore.
The trip to Saint-Germain-des-Prés took thirty minutes. The chic neighborhood contrasted sharply with the 19th arrondissement. People here wore clothes that probably cost his monthly rent.
Café de Flore. Mythical. Overpriced. Lucas entered, immediately feeling out of place with his torn jeans and improvised arm sling.
"Do you have a reservation?" asked a haughty waiter.
"I... I'm meeting someone. Initials A.S."
The waiter consulted a register. "Table 12. In the back."
Lucas crossed the café, aware of the stares. In the back, in a discreet corner, a woman was waiting. Fifties, silver-gray hair cut short, impeccable black suit. Green eyes that seemed to see through him.
"Lucas Moreau," she said without preamble. "You look like your father."
"Who are you?"
"Anne Santini. I was your father's lawyer." She signaled the waiter. "What do you want to drink?"
"Just water."
"Two coffees," she ordered. "You need caffeine. Sit down."
Lucas obeyed, wary. Anne Santini observed him for a moment.
"Your shoulder?"
"Bike accident."
"Don't lie to me. I was at the tournament last night." She smiled at his expression. "Oh, not to bet. To see you. When I learned that Mathieu's son was playing in the underground..."
"What do you want?"
"To tell you the truth. Or at least, part of it." She took out a cigarette, lit it despite the ban. "Your father was my client. Not for tennis. For his... other activities."
"The match fixing?"
"Among other things." She blew smoke. "Mathieu was brilliant on the court, but naive off it. When sponsors dropped him after his injury, he looked for other ways to finance his comeback. He borrowed from the wrong people."
"The Russians."
"You're well informed. Yes, the Bratva. 300,000 euros. Interest was running. They offered him a deal: fix a few matches, erase the debt. Simple."
"But?"
"But your father discovered something. The system was bigger. Top 20 players involved. Umpires. Federation officials. A network that was corrupting world tennis."
Lucas felt his heart race. "He wanted to expose them?"
"He tried. He came to me with evidence. Recordings, bank statements. We were preparing a case for justice." She crushed her cigarette. "Three days later, he was dead."
"You're saying he was..."
"I'm not saying anything. Officially, heart attack. But a 35-year-old man in perfect health..." She shrugged. "The evidence disappeared. His computer, erased. His phone, never found."
"Why tell me this now?"
Anne Santini looked at him intently. "Because you're following in his footsteps. The underground is just the tip. The same people who trapped your father control these tournaments."
"You want me to stop?"
"I want you to be careful. And to know what you're getting into." She slid a business card across. "My number. If you find something, or if you're in trouble."
"Why help me?"
"Because I failed to save your father. I won't let his son suffer the same fate." She stood, left a 50-euro bill on the table. "Your father had a gift. An incredible instinct for reading the game. He said it was like he could see the shots before they happened."
Lucas froze. His system... was it similar?
"He called it his 'sixth sense.' Some are born with it." She smiled sadly. "Make good use of it if you've inherited it. And Lucas? Be wary of Tom Beaumont. He was more than a rival to your father."
She left, leaving Lucas in shock. His father had a natural gift? And he had... something else?
[Crucial information obtained][The system remains your secret][New contact: Anne Santini - Lawyer]
Lucas sat still, the coffee cooling before him. Everything he thought he knew was collapsing. His father, hero turned cheater turned... what? Whistleblower? Victim?
He looked at Anne Santini's card. Criminal lawyer. Specialized in organized crime.
His own secret weighed heavy. This system that no one else could see, that helped him progress... Where did it come from? Why him?
His phone vibrated. His mother.
"Working late tonight. There's pasta in the fridge. Rest well. I love you."
Lucas smiled sadly. His mother, working two jobs to make ends meet, who never complained, who still believed her son was doing "volunteer work" in the evenings.
He made his decision. Back to the library. If he had to face a corrupt system, he'd be ready. Mentally first, physically later.
On the way back, Lucas stopped at a low-end gym. "First session free" announced the poster. He entered.
"I can't use my right arm," he explained to the gruff coach. "But I want to work lower body, cardio."
"Sports injury?"
"Something like that."
"30 euros a month. We have a rehabilitation program."
Lucas calculated. With the café money Anne had left... "Okay."
That evening, in his room, Lucas contemplated his notes. Psychology. Nutrition. Biomechanics. Strategy. And now, organized crime and corruption.
His shoulder throbbed with pain, but his mind was clear. He had 27 days to rebuild himself. Not just physically. And this mysterious system that belonged to him... he would have to learn to use it better, without ever revealing its existence.
[Daily summary:][Theoretical knowledge: +40%][Funds: 470€]
The system was silent, as if waiting to see what Lucas would do with this new knowledge. His father had tried to fight corruption from the inside and had failed. Lucas would take a different approach.
He would be smarter. More prepared. More patient.
And when he returned to the court, he wouldn't be the same Ghost.
He would be a storm.
[System advice: Use recovery time to develop your theoretical knowledge]
The game continued, even off the court.