The Next Day
Though Bastia trained as scheduled, none of the players who featured against Inter had training obligations.
With Bastia fighting on two fronts, the medical staff had become the busiest department. Chataigner even signed several physiotherapists on short-term contracts to get through the season.
The matches against Tottenham, PSG, and Inter had taken their toll—not on the attackers, but the defensive core.
Against Inter, even the iron man Kanté was visibly struggling in the final minutes. The sustained high-intensity defending was extracting a brutal price.
Angoula, Van Dijk, and others were in similar condition. High match intensity, short recovery periods.
Geronimi stood in his office overlooking the sparse training ground, turning to Chataigner with a wry smile.
"You know, this is the first time since I took over that I've felt this kind of genuine tension. It's a sweet burden—seeing an empty training ground not because we're struggling, but because we left everything on the San Siro pitch. It's strange and exhilarating."
Chataigner shook his head. "That night at San Siro felt like a beautiful dream. But the players woke up to real muscle soreness, a real injury list, and a real away match at Bordeaux in two days."
He paused, then his tone shifted.
"The pressure is unprecedented. But why didn't we have pressure before? Because there were no expectations. Now the entire island is watching us.
All of Europe is watching us."
Chataigner's expression hardened as he locked eyes with Geronimi. "We only get one chance at this."
Geronimi understood perfectly. The weight of those words settled over both men.
He turned toward the training ground.
Just then, Julien emerged, adjusting his training kit before beginning his run.
Geronimi smiled. "Yes. We only get one chance."
That's why he'd bet everything.
Meanwhile, L'Équipe's coverage finally reached critical mass.
French newspapers ran with it in waves: "French Football's Most Incredible Redemption Story,"
"The Century's Most Dramatic Personal Salvation."
An absolute flood of coverage aimed to elevate Julien from "talented prospect" to "global phenomenon and inspirational icon + elite superstar candidate."
As the story spread, familiar voices emerged.
Wenger: "An extraordinary story, an extraordinary talent. The combination of his technique, speed, and mental strength is mesmerizing."
Drogba on social media: "I've always believed in Julien's talent, but I'm even happier seeing him find the right path. His story proves football can change lives. I'm incredibly proud of him!"
The Tottenham elimination, the San Siro hat-trick—all provided concrete evidence of Julien's ability, lending authenticity to his remarkable narrative.
While outsiders marveled at Julien's gifts, on Corsica, in Bastia, the emotions ran deeper.
On Bastia's fan forum, the thread "To Julien" remained pinned at the top.
Fans read it alongside the L'Équipe piece, their hearts twisting.
"The gentler the forum post, the more explosive the article, the more conflicted I feel!
One says 'become the best player,' the other says 'European giants, get your checkbooks ready.'
We know we can't keep him, but God, it hurts!
Then I imagine him in Real Madrid white or Manchester City blue, standing in a Champions League final, and I'm crying from pride and pain!
This is worse than relegation battles!"
"Relax. He's not just passing through—he's a totem carved into this island. His roots are here, his soul is here.
Even if he leaves, Bastia blue will always be his first color!"
"I only knew he was fast, strong, our Julien. Now I know every step was on a knife's edge!
That youthful brilliance—how much despair and blood did it cost to achieve rebirth? Reading this, I finally understand his calmness on the pitch. At eighteen, after living through all that... what else could possibly shake him?"
"Fuck, Ima crying! We should fill the stadium!
The forum says 'treasure the present,' the article says 'his era is beginning'—so what are we waiting for?
Next home match, Stade Armand-Cesari needs to erupt like a volcano!
Let Julien hear us! Let all of Europe hear us!
Before he reaches the stars, Corsica will always be his loudest echo!
FORZA BASTIA!!"
Reply after reply—salty tears, burning liquor, crashing ocean winds, and blazing hope for the future.
In raw, passionate language, they declared: Julien's story had transcended personal legend. It was now stamped into Bastia's identity, branded on every supporter's soul.
No matter where he flew, Bastia would always be where he started. And Bastia's fans would forever be the wind lifting him toward sky.
Julien browsed the fan forums during his free time, though he never posted.
This time, reading some comments genuinely moved him. He couldn't resist leaving a simple reply: "Thank you."
The comment section exploded.
Responses flooded in—messages of support, encouragement, promises that Bastia would always back him.
Julien read them but didn't reply further.
Instead, he opened his social media and posted a single image: his arms spread wide in celebration at San Siro, the number 10 blazing on his back.
Caption: A single flexed-bicep emoji—💪.
A statement.
For someone who rarely posted, this triggered an immediate surge. Comments and likes skyrocketed within minutes.
"WHOA! JULIEN!"
"I'm crying! Just read that article, then saw this photo—it's like all of Fontaine-les-Dijon, all of Corsica is glowing behind you! From there to here, you're a fucking legend! ALLEZ!!"
"JULIEN! MY KING! Your name is carved on San Siro's throne! Everything in that article is behind you now! It's time the world watches you claim your crown! Keep charging! Carry our dreams and hunger with you!"
"From the abyss to the summit! You proved football changes everything! Keep flying, but remember—Stade Armand-Cesari is always home!"
"The media coverage made me understand you better. Keep going, Julien! Wherever you end up, Corsican blue is your eternal color! Now—win everything for Bastia!"
"I was heartbroken reading the article, but seeing this photo—my blood's on fire! You deserve this! Keep writing your epic with goals! All of France is cheering for you!"
"Stay healthy, Julien! That article showed how hard you fought to get here! We need you! Corsica needs you! France needs you! Protect yourself for the bigger stages ahead! ALLEZ!"
After posting, Julien didn't check again.
Time moved quickly.
After a brief two-day recovery, Bastia traveled to Bordeaux.
At the pre-match press conference, Hadzibegic didn't discuss fixture congestion or mounting pressure. He simply said:
"Everyone at Bastia knows what we must do, what we should do. I have nothing special to add. I'm proud to manage a team like this. I'm honored by my players."
When journalists asked about his starting XI and managing two competitions simultaneously, Hadzibegic responded:
"Everyone wants to play. They all understand what each match means to Bastia. Unfortunately, I can only field eleven. I'll make decisions based on training form and physical condition. But whether or not they start, every Bastia player is ready to give everything for this club."
The reporter had really wanted to ask if Julien would start.
Hadzibegic skillfully deflected.
That evening, Julien and his teammates admired Bordeaux's nightscape from the hotel rooftop.
The great French writer Victor Hugo once said of Bordeaux: "Prenez Versailles et Anvers, vous avez Bordeaux."
TN: "Take the grace of Versailles and the industry of Antwerp—blend them together, and you have Bordeaux."
Indeed.
Lukaku scratched his head sheepishly. "My agent told me Chelsea might guarantee me playing time next season."
Hearing this, De Bruyne and Julien turned toward him. The others lit up with excitement, thrilled for their teammate.
Lukaku's season had been spectacular—27 league appearances, 24 goals, 4 assists. He was second only to Julien in Ligue 1's scoring charts.
Chelsea taking him seriously next season seemed totally plausible.
British media reported Chelsea would definitely sign a new striker in summer. Torres would likely leave.
Speculation about Chelsea's striker target swirled, with Atlético's Radamel Falcao emerging as the frontrunner. Chelsea had coveted him for ages.
The Daily Mail reported preliminary informal talks had begun. Falcao's agent Jorge Mendes who also represented Mourinho was in contact with Chelsea.
That connection meant if Mourinho returned from Real Madrid to Chelsea, signing Falcao would be straightforward.
Chelsea also held an attractive bargaining chip: Thibaut Courtois. Atlético desperately wanted to sign the prodigious goalkeeper permanently.
Meanwhile, The Daily Express claimed Chelsea would accept a loss on Torres this summer. The Blues were reportedly willing to absorb a £35 million loss, selling the Spanish striker for as little as £15 million.
Owner Abramovich had finally accepted reality: the £50 million Torres investment had failed. Two years of inconsistent form proved it beyond doubt.
A source close to Abramovich stated: "If the right offer comes in, Roman is willing to sell Torres. I know he desperately wants an elite striker. Chelsea will be active this summer. Everything's on the table. Budget isn't a concern."
As Lukaku, De Bruyne, and the others discussed transfer speculation and celebrated Lukaku's prospects, Julien's mind mixed through his knowledge of the original timeline.
Mourinho would definitely take the Chelsea job. But hadn't Falcao joined Monaco that summer?
Falcao, Mbappé, Fabinho, Bernardo Silva—that superteam Monaco side.
However, his presence had already altered so many variables.
Lukaku and De Bruyne attracting serious Chelsea interest, for instance. And his own name being linked with the Blues.
The final outcome remained uncertain, even to him.
De Bruyne added, "The manager will probably be Mourinho, right? Former Tottenham boss Harry Redknapp said it himself: 'People say never go back, but I did it—returned to Portsmouth. Going back to a club you've managed before isn't a problem. Abramovich is still at Chelsea with plenty of money to spend. Some players remain in the squad. It would be an incredible reunion. I'd love to see it happen.'"
As De Bruyne repeated the quote, he glanced meaningfully at Julien.
The subtext was obvious: going back.
Julien remained noncommittal.
Van Dijk chimed in. "Isn't Mourinho supposed to be arrogant? I heard someone describe him as CFC—Cocky, Flamboyant, Controversial."
He looked at Lukaku. "Romelu, you might want to be careful. Managers like that are usually brutal taskmasters."
Hearing this, Lukaku's expression darkened—literally. Thinking about it made him appreciate Bastia's atmosphere even more.
But it was Chelsea. The internal conflict was real.
Julien laughed, clapping Lukaku's shoulder. "Why worry about it now? Chelsea's still in the Europa League, aren't they? You just keep winning until the final. If they survive elimination, you'll eventually face them. Then you prove you're the better striker."
Lukaku's face brightened. "Right!"
The group continued chatting until someone suggested, "Let's go to the hotel rooftop—get some air."
They ascended en masse, the night air was cool and crisp.
Victor Hugo's words rang true. Bordeaux possessed a unique elegance, blending grandeur with maritime charm.
Beneath the night sky, Julien and his teammates felt their hearts blazing. Gazing toward the horizon felt like staring into their futures.
Professional football was ruthless, but these young men brimmed with confidence.
This was only the beginning.
One day, they'd make the world see their brilliance.
Dans leur jeunesse, ils avaient osé saisir les nuages et s'étaient promis d'être les premiers parmi les hommes.
In their youth, they had dared to grasp the clouds and promised themselves they would be first among men.
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