After exchanging brief handshakes, Dean Smith led Theodore straight into the club's executive offices to finalize the paperwork.
Theodore was officially shredding his youth academy status.
The new contract sitting on the mahogany desk wasn't exactly dripping in gold, however.
Given he was only 17, Villa offered him a baseline professional deal: £40,000 a year, which broke down to a measly £770 a week, locked in for three years.
It was pocket change for a professional footballer.
But Theodore didn't give a shit.
He grabbed the pen and signed on the dotted line without a second thought. He knew exactly what he was capable of. The second he stepped onto a Championship pitch and started tearing defensive lines apart, the massive paychecks and lucrative endorsement deals would inevitably follow.
He just needed the platform.
Once the ink was dry, John Terry personally escorted Theodore to the first-team apartment block.
The setup wasn't drastically different from the youth academy dorms—it had a private bathroom, a small sofa, and a kitchenette.
But the biggest, most glorious upgrade? It was a single room.
No more Kac screaming at FIFA at 2:00 AM!
Theodore tossed his duffel bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the mattress, his muscles aching from the chaotic day.
He needed to recharge for his first senior training session tomorrow.
But just as his eyes fluttered shut, the cold, mechanical voice echoed in his skull.
[Ding! Congratulations to the Host for successfully advancing to the First Team!]
[Reward: One random Skill Card Draw! (Chance to draw Platinum, Black Gold, or Peak skill cards!)]
Instantly, three glowing holographic cards materialized in the dark room, all radiating the same metallic sheen.
Theodore reached out and tapped the middle card.
The card flipped, erupting in a blinding white light.
The black, red, and gold stripes of the German flag flared across his vision, followed by the rugged, intense face of an absolute midfield tank.
Bastian Schweinsteiger.
[Ding! Congratulations to the Host for obtaining Bastian Schweinsteiger's Physicality Skill Card! (Platinum Card)]
[Physicality Attribute Increased: 66 -> 82!]
[Overall Rating Increased: 72 -> 74!]
"Schweini!" Theodore gasped, sitting bolt upright. "Bastian fucking Schweinsteiger!"
He was absolutely thrilled!
At his peak, Schweinsteiger was the ultimate midfield general—a relentless, versatile powerhouse who anchored Bayern Munich and the German national team to absolute glory.
"Physicality bumped to 82... this is perfect timing," Theodore muttered, clenching his fists.
He could literally feel his muscles densifying, his core strengthening.
The Championship was notoriously brutal, a meat grinder of a league where players got physically battered for 90 minutes.
With Schweinsteiger's physical resilience coursing through his veins, Theodore suddenly felt incredibly confident.
Let them try to bully him off the ball now!
...
7:00 AM. The Next Morning.
Sunlight pierced through the blinds just as Theodore's alarm blared.
He jumped out of bed, washed up, and threw on his new Aston Villa first-team training kit.
Just as he was about to head out the door, a massive wave of guilt hit him.
'Shit, i haven't told my parents yet.'
He immediately pulled out his phone and dialed their number in Norway.
From the memories inherited in this life, he knew his parents were struggling.
After their trading company went bankrupt, they were living frugally, scraping by on the meager profits of a small Chinese restaurant in a town with barely any Asian population.
Yet, despite being broke, they still managed to send Theodore a monthly allowance to support his football dream in England.
They deserved to hear this.
When his mom and dad answered and heard he had signed a first-team contract with Aston Villa, they completely lost their minds.
Through tears of joy, his father loudly declared they were closing the restaurant for two days and flying straight to Birmingham to watch his next match.
"Dad, wait, listen to me," Theodore tried to explain quickly. "I'm not a starter yet! I literally just got here. I might be glued to the bench the entire game!"
It didn't matter.
He couldn't dampen their excitement if he tried.
They were coming!
...
Aston Villa Senior Training Ground.
The air was crisp and tense.
Before the drills began, Dean Smith called the squad into a circle and had Theodore briefly introduce himself. The veterans offered a few polite claps, sizing the kid up.
After a grueling thirty-minute warmup, John Terry split the squad into two groups—Team A and Team B—for a thirty-minute 11-v-11 scrimmage.
It was an open audition.
Dean Smith was using this bloodbath to evaluate form and select his starting XI for the upcoming Championship fixture.
Theodore was tossed into Team B. He looked to his left and did a double-take.
Standing right next to him was Jack Grealish.
The maverick himself. Long before his massive transfer to Manchester City, Grealish was the absolute, undisputed king of Aston Villa, wearing the iconic number 10 jersey.
Because Theodore was also an academy product, Grealish instantly took a liking to the 'new kid from the same school.'
The second the whistle blew, Grealish was demanding the ball, frequently dropping deep to link up with Theodore.
And Theodore did not disappoint.
Twice during the scrimmage, Grealish made darting runs into open space.
Twice, Theodore unleashed a laser-guided Pirlo cruise missiles from the midfield, bypassing the entire Team A defense and dropping the ball perfectly onto Grealish's favored foot.
Grealish buried both of them as Team B won the scrimmage 2-0.
As the players trudged over to the water coolers, Grealish jogged up and aggressively ruffled Theodore's hair, turning it into a bird's nest.
"Fucking brilliant, mate!" Grealish laughed loudly, clapping him on the back. "You've got an absolute wand of a right foot! Didn't disgrace the academy today, eh?"
"Just doing my job," Theodore replied, keeping his tone modest as he fixed his hair.
Grealish flashed a mischievous, trademark grin. "You free tonight, kid? I'm taking you out. Let's hit the bars and get some proper pints in you to celebrate."
"Uh... I'm good, man. Maybe another time," Theodore quickly declined. "I haven't even finished unpacking my bags yet."
He knew Grealish's reputation.
The man was a notorious partier, infamous for hitting the clubs even during the grueling league season.
Theodore had literally just signed his contract, he wasn't about to get caught on camera stumbling out of a nightclub at 3:00 AM.
Plus, with the match only two days away, he needed to be in peak physical condition.
Surprisingly, Grealish wasn't offended at all.
He just laughed it off.
In fact, during the afternoon session, the superstar specifically pulled Theodore aside to partner up for passing drills, helping the rookie get comfortable with the senior squad's intense tempo.
Over the next two days, the two became practically inseparable on the training pitch.
When Grealish casually found out that Theodore's parents were flying in from Norway and might be stuck in the cheap seats, he didn't even blink.
He reached into his locker and handed Theodore two VIP tickets right behind the home dugout.
"Take care of your folks, mate," Grealish winked.