(June 1st, the Champions League final in the early morning. Seeing Paris Saint-Germain's captain, who had held on for ten years, and his teammates finally lift the Champions League trophy was truly moving. The captain deserved it, and Paris Saint-Germain deserved it.)
June 10, 2017, exactly 2:00 PM.
Oliver Thorne stood at the door of Sports Director Antero Henrique's office, his fingers slightly curled, then relaxed. He took a deep breath, and finally raised his hand to knock on the door.
"Come in." Henrique's voice came from inside the room.
Pushing the door open, the cold air from the office rushed towards him, and Oliver subconsciously tensed his shoulders. Henrique sat behind a large desk, flipping through a document. Seeing him enter, he raised his chin, motioning him to sit down.
"Oliver, have a seat."
Oliver sat down, his hands on his knees, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the fabric of his training pants, too nervous to know what to do. Henrique closed the document, crossed his hands on the desk, and looked at him calmly.
"I think you've already heard, the team will have some adjustments next season."
Oliver nodded, his throat tight. Of course, he had heard; the entire Paris Saint-Germain locker room was buzzing with it. This season, the club was going to sign Neymar, and also Mbappé, the French new star who had burst onto the scene from Monaco.
"It's like this: in order to better comply with financial fair play regulations, and also to optimize the squad, the club needs to free up some positions, including in the youth academy," Henrique said, choosing his words carefully.
"Considering your situation in the youth academy... we've decided not to renew your contract."
At these words, Oliver's breathing stopped for a moment, but his face showed no ripple of emotion. He had already guessed this day might come at the end of the season in May, but hearing it truly still sent a chill down his spine.
"Sir, I still want to ask, is it because the youth academy needs local French players?" Oliver asked, his voice lacking confidence.
Henrique frowned slightly; Oliver's question made him somewhat displeased.
"It's not entirely because of that. The team needs more mature, immediate fighting power, more talented new stars, and you..." Henrique maintained his politeness as he spoke.
"Oliver, I know you are a hardworking player, but professional football isn't something you can succeed in just by working hard."
At these words, it was Oliver's turn to be nervous.
"Sir, I... I can play other positions. I won't compete for playing time with local French youth academy players. I can agree to be loaned to any club, even to other lower-tier Leagues..." Oliver still wanted to fight for himself.
Henrique sighed; he had seen too many young people like this. The name of the Paris Saint-Germain youth academy was, of course, precious to all young people who loved football, and he could understand why Oliver was so reluctant to leave.
"Oliver, let me be frank. You are 17 years old, and your technical characteristics are basically set. You are not French, nor are you from the Paris local youth academy. The club has no reason to invest more in you."
Oliver lowered his head and was silent for a few seconds, then looked up and asked him again.
"So, you don't think I can play in the top five Leagues?"
Henrique looked at him, with a hint of pity in his eyes, but more so with professional calmness.
"Yes, your talent is average. Top Leagues require players who are mature in both mindset and skills, players who can change the game. Unfortunately, you don't have that kind of talent."
"..." Oliver said nothing more. He knew that the director had already spoken to this extent, leaving him no room for maneuver.
"The club will give you a severance package, enough for you to transition for a while." Henrique stood up, signaling the end of the conversation, "Good luck."
"Thank you, sir."
Oliver also stood up, nodded, and turned to leave. The moment the door closed, he heard Henrique add a remark from behind him.
"Don't be too sad, kid. That's how the football world is; some people come in, and some people leave."
Back in the dorm, Oliver sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the Paris Saint-Germain U19 team photo on the wall. In the photo, he stood in the corner, smiling brightly. This photo was taken when he first came to Paris. At that time, he naively thought he would play here for many years, and might even make it to the first team. But reality hit him hard. He took out his phone and dialed his father Oliver Zhen'an's number. The call connected quickly, and his father's voice came through the receiver.
"Son?"
"Dad, I've been released," Oliver said calmly; he was trying very hard to control his emotions. On the other end of the phone, Oliver's Father was silent for two seconds before asking,
"Henrique talked to you personally?"
"Mm."
Another brief silence ensued. Oliver could imagine his father's expression at that moment: a slight frown, fingers gently tapping the desk, a habit he had when thinking.
"It's okay." His father finally spoke, his tone relaxed, as if he had anticipated this day long ago.
"Son, don't rush back yet. Find a hotel in Paris, travel a bit, and clear your mind."
Oliver was already very disheartened, and hearing his father say that made him feel even worse. He replied,
"Dad, I didn't come to Paris for a vacation."
Oliver's Father chuckled after hearing this and continued to comfort his son.
"I know, but you don't need to make yourself suffer. I'll transfer you some money. Relax for a few days, travel in Paris. I'll continue to try and contact new teams for you. Don't call your mom recently."
Oliver knew what his father meant: his mom absolutely couldn't know about this. If she knew Oliver had been released by Paris Saint-Germain, she would probably directly tell her son to return to England to study hard, and then either become an office worker or go home to inherit the restaurant. Oliver's mom, Li Shuwen, was a third-generation Chinese-English person who owned a Chinese restaurant in Birmingham. She had always been straightforward and open-minded, holding a neutral stance on her son playing football, neither supporting nor opposing it.
Oliver's Father was from London. He started a small import-export company from scratch. Later, he married Oliver's mom in England and eventually settled down there. He was also a football fan, and after Oliver was born, he incidentally took on the role of his son's agent. Although not particularly professional, as a good businessman, Olivers Father had a deep understanding of negotiation.
He quickly grasped the negotiation of professional football contracts. Over the years, relying on his talent in business negotiation and his good connections, he helped his son negotiate several youth academy contracts. After hanging up the phone, Oliver began to pack his luggage.
In his wardrobe hung several Paris Saint-Germain training kits. After a moment of hesitation, he still folded them neatly and put them into his suitcase. In the photo frame on his bedside table was a group photo of their family of three. In the photo, Oliver's Father wore a sharp suit, his Mom wore a dress, smiling brightly, and he stood between his parents, holding a Birmingham Community Youth League trophy in his hands.
He was 12 years old then, and this photo was taken when he had just been signed by the Birmingham youth academy. He picked up the photo frame, his fingertips gently tracing the glass surface.
"It's okay," he whispered to comfort himself, "This is just the beginning."
He said that, but he was about to cry. He picked up his backpack, took one last look around the dorm he had lived in for two years, then closed the door. He no longer belonged to this place. At the end of the corridor, the setting sun streamed through the window, casting a long shadow of him alone.
...
The good-natured captain of Paris Saint-Germain knew that many old teammates would be leaving this season to make way for the arrival of Neymar and Mbappé. He had specially invited everyone to a farewell party tonight. Fortunately, he was also on the invitation list, even though he was currently just a youth academy kid. Oliver stood in the corner of the restaurant, holding a glass of orange juice, watching the lively scene before him. The Paris Saint-Germain first-team players gathered in small groups, chatting and laughing.
Captain Thiago Silva walked around the crowd, glass in hand, occasionally patting a teammate's shoulder and saying a few encouraging words. He had organized this farewell dinner. After the season ended, the club was going to clear out a group of players. Whether for tactical adjustments or financial reasons, someone always had to leave.
Oliver hadn't expected to be invited. He was just a youth academy player, and his opportunities to interact with first-team players were very limited. But unexpectedly, Thiago Silva himself sent him a message:
"Oliver, you should come too, everyone likes you very much."
He didn't know why he was remembered. Perhaps it was because after every training session, he always took the initiative to help put away the equipment; Perhaps it was because every time first-team players passed by the training ground, he would greet them with a smile; Or perhaps it was because one time when Cavani was doing extra training in the gym, he conveniently handed him a bottle of water, which earned him a "Thank you, young man."
Anyway, he was indeed popular here; whether it was his youth team teammates or first-team players, he got along well with them.
"Hey, Oliver!" Verratti walked over with a plate, raising his chin at him, "Why are you hiding here alone? Aren't you going to chat with them?" Oliver smiled: "I'm listening, sir, as long as you all are having fun."
Verratti shrugged, then casually forked a piece of roasted meat from his plate into his mouth, saying indistinctly: "I heard you're leaving?"
Oliver nodded: "Yeah, the club isn't renewing my contract."
Verratti frowned, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end, he just patted his shoulder: "That's how football is, don't take it too hard."
Oliver didn't speak; he knew Verratti meant well, but he was already tired of hearing that phrase, from Henrique, from his youth team teammates, and even from his family.
"But seriously," Verratti suddenly smiled, "You're a really good kid, always helping us clean up after training, it makes us feel bad for being lazy."
Oliver also smiled: "It's just a small thing."
Verratti shook his head: "It's not a small thing, it's because you're a good person."
Oliver was stunned for a moment; he hadn't expected to leave a good impression on these people.
Verratti didn't say anything more, just raised his cup to him, then turned and walked towards Cavani.
As the dinner party entered its latter half, the atmosphere gradually became a bit melancholic.
After all, no one knew if they would see each other here next season.
Thiago Silva stood in the center of the restaurant, raised his glass and said a few words of thanks, then suggested that everyone have a final farewell hug.
Oliver stood to the side, watching these stars, whom he once could only look up to on television, hugging, patting shoulders, and some even with red eyes.
He suddenly felt a bit unreal, that he had actually worked with these people, even if it was just passing by.
When it was his turn, Di Maria walked over and opened his arms: "Oliver, good luck."
Oliver hugged him, and at this moment, it inexplicably made his nose sting.
"Thank you, Angel." He patted Di Maria's back and said.
Di Maria smiled, released him, and then patted his back firmly: "Don't give up, you'll have better opportunities."
The moment Di Maria's hand left his shoulder, Yuan's mind suddenly buzzed, and a voice came:
[Star Interaction System Activated]
Oliver froze in place.
[Detected host interaction with Di Maria reached 100%, replicable attribute: Ball Control (Match Rate 78%)]
[Detected host interaction with Cavani reached 100%, replicable skill: Matador's Sting (Shooting Skill, Match Rate 87%)]
[Detected host interaction with Verratti reached 100%, replicable attribute: Dribbling (Match Rate 51%)]
Oliver choked on his own spit.
He subconsciously looked around, but there were only a few staff members cleaning up dishes in the restaurant; no one noticed his abnormality.
[System Function Description: By friendly interaction with stars (non-ordinary players), upon reaching 100% interaction, one of their signature skills or attributes can be replicated; the system has a built-in training space, which the host can use to independently strengthen skills, the training space can be used 8 hours daily; the Mall function is not yet open, it needs to be unlocked after joining a new team and completing training sessions.]
Oliver stood still, his heart pounding like thunder.
He tried to ask in his mind: "What is this?"
[This system is a Star Interaction Growth System, designed to help the host become a top player.]
Oliver took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
He recalled the bits and pieces of the past two years in Paris: occasionally helping Di Maria pick up balls, spending holidays practicing shooting with Cavani, listening to Verratti complain about referees while eating in the cafeteria… those interactions he thought were insignificant had apparently been recorded by the system long ago.
And now, they became his opportunity.
He closed his eyes and selected those three skills in his mind.
[Skill Replicating…]
A warm current suddenly surged up from his spine, Oliver felt his muscles slightly hot, as if something was reorganizing.
A few seconds later, the system prompt sounded again:
[Replication Complete]
"Oliver? Are you alright?" Cavani's voice pulled him back to reality.
Oliver snapped back to attention, finding Cavani standing in front of him, his brows slightly furrowed.
"Ah, I'm fine!" He quickly shook his head, forcing a smile, "It's just… I'm a bit reluctant to part with everyone."
Cavani stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly smiled: "Kid, you're really quite special."
"Huh?"
"Usually, when young people are released from their contracts, they're either angry or depressed." Cavani shrugged, "But you look… as if you haven't been affected at all."
His heart skipped a beat.
Cavani, of course, didn't know what he was thinking, just said it casually, but this sentence somehow perfectly matched his mood at the moment.
"I just feel that this won't be the end." Oliver replied…
After the dinner party, Oliver took his luggage and walked alone to the hotel. The night wind was slightly cool, but his blood was faintly hot.
"System, can we talk?"
"Yes."
"Why did you only appear now?"
"Non-professional questions will not be answered."
"Is skill replication random? Or can I choose? Also, can a target player only be replicated once?"
"The content of skill replication is one of the target star's highest physical attributes or a signature skill. A target player can only be replicated once."
"Understood. What about skill match rate? Can it reach 100% match rate?"
"The initial match rate of a skill is determined by the match between the host's physical data and the target player's physical data, but it can be increased to 100% through training later."
"System, can I see my personal data?"
"Host personal data is as follows (only shows ratings, not values):
Name: Oliver
Height: 184cm
Weight: 74kg
Club: None
Position: Right Winger (Proficient), Attacking Midfielder (Average), Left Winger (Average)
Ball Control: S
Dribbling: B-
Vision: B+
Long Pass: C-…"
After looking at his personal data, Oliver finally understood why Verratti's skill match rate with him was so low; it was because there was a significant difference in their physical attributes.
Verratti's build is not tall, even a bit short; his height is only 165cm. His dribbling skill is almost tailor-made for him, so Oliver found it a bit difficult to adapt.
In contrast, Di Maria's Ball Control attribute, due to the small difference in build and the fact that their positions are basically the same, reached S-level after the attribute was integrated.
But it's not a big problem, as long as it can be improved through training.
"System, what is the highest level for each skill?"
"The highest level is S+ grade. Taking Cristiano Ronaldo, Messi, and Neymar as examples, their Shooting, Dribbling, and Ball Control are all S+ grade respectively."
Oliver understood the gap between himself and the world's top players. He had to admit, the road was long and arduous.