Chapter 15: The King of the Morning News
Monday morning in Manchester felt like someone had turned the saturation up on the world. Mide woke up in his dorm room to the sound of Danny Welbeck jumping on his bed like a five-year-old who'd had too much Lucozade.
"Get up, you legend! Have you seen the papers?" Danny was waving a copy of The Daily Mirror so hard it was whistling.
The headline was massive: "THE NIGERIAN KNUCKLE: UNKNOWN TEEN STUNS OLD TRAFFORD." Below it was a grainy photo of Mide standing with his arms wide, looking cooler than a polar bear's toenails.
[System: "Good morning, Oga. Your 'Fame' level just jumped from 'Local Nuisance' to 'National Interest.' I suggest you put on a hoodie when you go to buy bread. Also, Danny's excitement is draining my battery. Tell him to sit down."]
It's fine, Baba. Let him enjoy it, Mide thought, grinning as he swung his legs out of bed. How's the SP looking?
[System: "1,555 SP. You're richer than a Lagos politician during election week. Spend it wisely, or I'll start charging you 'Sarcasm Tax'."]
The First Big Move
Before heading to Carrington, Mide sat at his desk and opened a specialized banking app Bernard had set up for him. His first "stipend" and a small "appearance bonus" had cleared. It wasn't "Ronaldo money" yet, but in Naira, it was a mountain.
He clicked 'Transfer'.
[To: Samuel Adeyemi (Father)]
[Amount: £2,000]
[Message: Buy the house with the blue gate. Don't argue with me, Papa.]
[System: "Transaction Successful. Your father's heart rate in Lagos just hit 140 BPM. Your mother is currently screaming 'Praise the Lord' so loud the neighbors think she won the lottery. +50 Karma Points."]
The Gaffer's Office
At Carrington, the vibe was different. The first-team players were "hazing" him in the hallway. Rio Ferdinand tried to trip him, and Patrice Evra kept calling him "The Little Prince."
"Adeyemi! My office. Now!"
The hallway went silent. Sir Alex's voice could peel paint off a wall. Mide walked into the wood-panelled office. The Gaffer was sitting behind his desk, a cup of tea in one hand and a contract in the other.
"Sit down, son," Sir Alex said, his Scottish accent thick enough to spread on toast. "That goal... it was alright. A bit lucky, I reckon. My grandmother could have hit the target from there."
Mide didn't flinch. He knew the Gaffer's "reverse psychology" games. "Your grandmother must have had a wicked right foot then, Sir."
Sir Alex paused, his eyes narrowing, before a small smirk broke through. "Cheeky brat. Listen, we're putting you on a professional five-year deal. £5,000 a week to start, with a fat bonus for every goal and assist. Sign here, and don't let me catch you in a nightclub, or I'll trade you to a team in the Arctic Circle. Understood?"
"Understood, Boss."
[System: "New Contract Signed! Weekly Income: £5,000. Current Quest: 'The Iconic Signature'. You need a celebration, Mide. Something that says 'I am the King' but also 'I am humble.' Because right now, your 'ego' is growing faster than your 'shooting' stat."]
The Training Ground: The Birth of a Legend
During the afternoon training session, the team was practicing finishes. Mide was on fire, curling balls into the top corner like he was using a remote control.
"Hey, Nigeria!" Ronaldo called out, leaning on a ball. "If you score the next one, show me how you celebrate. The 'arms wide' thing? Too boring. My cousin does that when he finds a penny on the street."
The team gathered around, laughing. Rooney was smirking. "Yeah, give us something proper, lad. Something with a bit of 'Juju' in it."
Mide took a deep breath. He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to honor his roots and the "Crown" he carried.
He stepped up to a ball 20 yards out. Thwack. It flew into the top bins, the net snapping back.
Mide didn't run. He turned toward the sideline.
He placed his right hand behind his back, palm out, and his left hand over his chest. Then, he gave a slow, deep, royal Yoruba Bow—but as he straightened up, he brought both hands to his head and mimicked the motion of adjusting a crown, before pointing one finger to the sky.
The "Royal Adjustment."
[System: "OH! That is cold! The 'Oyo Crown' Adjustment. It's classy, it's arrogant, and it's culturally significant. I love it! +200 SP for Style."]
"Oho!" Evra shouted, clapping. "The King is here! Look at him! He thinks he's the Oba of Manchester!"
Ronaldo nodded, a look of genuine approval on his face. "I like it. It's... regal. But if you do it and we lose, I will kick you."
"If we lose, Cristiano, I won't have a reason to do it," Mide replied with a wink.
The Post-Training Joke
As they walked back to the locker room, Mide found his locker stuffed with... grass? Actual clumps of turf from the pitch.
"What is this?" Mide asked, confused.
Wayne Rooney walked past, looking innocent. "The Gaffer said you needed more green in your diet, didn't he? We thought we'd save the kitchen some work."
Mide looked at the grass, then at the System.
Baba, any ideas?
[System: "Scanning for Revenge... Success. Rooney's car keys are currently in his open locker. I could remotely 'glitch' his car alarm to go off every five minutes for the next three hours. Cost: 10 SP."]
Do it, Mide thought, a devilish grin on his face.
Ten minutes later, as Rooney was trying to leave in his Range Rover, the alarm started screaming. He turned it off. Five minutes later, it screamed again.
"STUPID PIECE OF JUNK!" Rooney roared, kicking his tire.
Mide walked past him, holding his sports drink. "Maybe the car is hungry for some grass too, Wayne? It's very nutritious."
The team erupted in laughter. Even the stern Vidić cracked a smile. Mide Adeyemi wasn't just a "talent" anymore. He was one of the boys.
[System: "Locker Room Chemistry: +15%. SP Remaining: 1,745. You're playing a dangerous game with Rooney, Oga. But I must admit... his face was priceless."]
[Current Status]
Name: Mide Adeyemi (MA10)
Weekly Wage: £5,000
Celebration Unlocked: The Royal Adjustment (Bow + Crown Fix).
Reputation: The "Oba" of Carrington.