The Decision (4)
"We should restart negotiations."
"The door is always open. But to walk through it, you'll need the proper qualifications."
"...The qualifications you're talking about—it all boils down to that damn buyout clause, doesn't it."
"Precisely. To begin negotiations on contract terms with my client, you have to clear that hurdle first."
"Damn it. Listen, Borja. I swear on my name as director: we'll let Theo go after two seasons for a fair price. What's the buyout agreed with Borussia? We'll take that amount."
"It's 30 million euros."
"What? 30 million? You fucking bastard!"
"Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"
"Of course it does. You know it better than anyone. Even judging by Theo's potential value alone, 30 million euros is a steal—a total steal!"
"1.5 million euros would be a steal."
"Hah. Goddamn it."
"That promise you just made to let him go without the buyout? That sounded just as ridiculous to me."
"Come on, Borja. Listen, trust my word for once. The buyout clause is a humiliation for our club. Everyone will think we're just a stepping stone! I'll stake my name on it...."
"I don't doubt you'll keep your word. But here's the thing—I'm less confident in the value of your name holding up than in you actually keeping the promise."
"...What?!"
"Your promises aren't enough. Convincing that stubborn British billionaire owner of yours would be faster than convincing me. Go get the buyout approved. Otherwise, his dream of rebuilding the club into a powerhouse will stay just that—a dream."
"That last bit rubbed me the wrong way."
"Your attitude—still holding your head high trying to force your way through that door—rubs me the wrong way even more."
"...Fuck."
"I told you clearly: if you miss the timing, you'll need to bring even better terms. But you can't even clear this tiny buyout hurdle, so how can we have a positive conversation? Especially when my client's mind is heavily leaning toward Borussia."
"...Hoo."
"I guarantee you: scour the entire planet, and you won't find another striker like Theo for 1.5 million euros. Though if you had the ability to find one, you'd already be contending for titles."
"You've been pissing me off from the start. Do you have no intention of ever doing business with us? Can you handle the consequences?"
"That's funny. You still don't even know what posture you should take. No wonder the club's in the state it's in with you as director."
"Hey, Borja!"
"We don't have time to waste on pointless chit-chat. Let's cut to the chase: the buyout. Go get your boss's approval. Then I'll give you treatment worthy of it."
"Wh-what? Wait, why all of a sudden? Was there a problem with our offer?"
"It's my client's choice. I'm just his employee. I have to listen to the employer."
"So you know the reason! Tell me. Our club needs him desperately. He's the centerpiece of this winter transfer window!"
"Even if I told you, your club couldn't meet my client's demands."
"Wh-what the hell why?"
"Because my client wants to play on the Champions League stage."
"Ah... ahh...."
"Unfortunately, my client doesn't want any more money. He says what he has now is enough."
"But next season we could—"
"That won't fly. You know that. Paris Saint-Germain, the club my client chose, made it to the Champions League round of 16 this season. Why bet on an uncertain future when he can experience the battle of the stars right now?"
"...So you just used us after all."
"That's how this business works. What's new? If we keep talking, it'll just hurt feelings, so let's end the call. Oh, and if you need a striker, hit me up. We won't attach a buyout, so no worries. Haha!"
"...Goddamn it."
Kyle Lambert scowled deeply and slammed the receiver down.
"That fucking Italian old bastard."
One phone call, and the entire winter transfer plan had gone up in smoke. He ground his teeth for a moment before calming his excitement and dialing someone else.
The other end let it ring endlessly, almost hanging up before finally picking up with a click.
"Matt, I have a report."
The voice on the line belonged to Matt Plunge, one of Chelsea FC's co-owners and the American businessman leading the S-tate consortium that owned the club.
"I hope it's good news."
"Unfortunately, it's bad."
"Damn. This day's ruined. Tell me—my mood's already shot, so let's hear it."
In a heavy voice, Chelsea FC's football director Kyle Lambert said, "The plan's fucked. Massimo Pirola is going to Paris Saint-Germain."
Silence flowed from the other end. Kyle waited quietly for Matt Plunge to speak.
Finally, a low voice leaked through the speaker.
"So now the only option left is bringing in Andrei Popa?"
"It seems... we have to."
"You fucking bastard!"
The shout finally erupted. Kyle Lambert pulled his ear slightly from the receiver, then stealthily pressed it back.
"What's the reason? Wages? Whatever, just offer more money."
"It was the Champions League. We got thoroughly played by that Italian old bastard."
"...Completely toyed with."
Matt Plunge let out a quiet sigh.
"Benfica won't sell without the buyout, right?"
"Yes. We agreed on installments instead of a lump sum, but they wouldn't budge a single euro on the buyout amount."
"Hoo... goddamn it. Things are royally fucked."
As Matt said, the situation was a mess. They'd already splashed about 189 million euros—roughly 270 billion won—in the summer window. They'd sold smartly enough to avoid FFP—Financial Fair Play, the rule capping club spending over revenue at 100 million euros—risks. But with the summer spending, the max budget for winter was around 75 million pounds—about 130 billion won. That was scraping the absolute bottom of the barrel.
All to return to the UEFA Champions League somehow. They needed reinforcements in two positions: striker and goalkeeper.
The most urgent was goalkeeper. Mainstay Jasper Simons, the Dutch keeper who'd guarded the net for six seasons, had been shaky last year and was delivering his worst performances ever this season. The backups were all prospects, none ready for starting duty, making GK the top priority for Chelsea FC.
Striker was an issue too, but they'd already spent 70 million pounds—about 120 billion won—to bring in Senegal's Alfred Gomiz from Aston Villa, who scored 22 goals last season. Another big spend there was tough. Still, striker needed bolstering—Gomiz was in a slump, now sidelined by injury despite the high price tag.
Despite that flop, Kyle Lambert still held his director job because two other summer signings were performing decently.
In this mess, Chelsea planned to snag AFC Fiorentina's Massimo Pirola for 30 million euros, then use the rest on a striker. But with Pirola choosing PSG, everything derailed.
Now, only SL Benfica's Romanian keeper Andrei Popa—with an 80 million euro buyout (about 115 billion won)—was left. That left peanuts for striker, maybe 7 million pounds at best. Finding a ready-made starting striker for that? Impossible normally.
But now, things were different. One option remained.
"Then if we get Andrei Popa, we'll have no choice but to bring in that guy. Work permit okay?"
"Two slots left."
Work permits—employment visas—were tough normally, but relaxed foreign player rules allowed up to four per team without review.
"But Borja Navas wants the buyout?"
"That's the problem."
Matt Plunge pondered briefly before deciding.
"Get Andrei Popa and Theo in Chelsea kits the moment January 1 hits."
"You mean...."
"Yeah. Fuck it, approve that goddamn buyout."
"......!"
"He won't demand high wages with a low buyout, right? Check the terms agreed with Borussia quick and match them. We're getting him for 1.5 million euros anyway—use him, sell high, profit."
"True."
"Club prestige be damned—we gotta get to the Champions League, fuck. Miss it next season too, and we're really screwed. Everything's on the line this year."
A true American businessman mindset. British Kyle Lambert felt a twinge of relief having this guy as owner.
"I'll contact both players' agents right away."
"Make this deal happen. No matter what."
"Got it."
No sooner had the call ended than Kyle dialed again—without pause. Not the agents of the new targets. Something needed handling first.
"Contact Borussia's internal journalists right now. Find out Theo Cha's buyout and terms ASAP. Fastest possible."
To avoid getting played in negotiations again.
"Agreeing to the buyout moves our conversation forward a step. Good. No beating around the bush—straight to it. Buyout: 30 million pounds. Wages: 100,000 pounds. That's the next hurdle for your club."
"Hm. I hear the buyout agreed with Borussia was 50 million euros?"
"Ah. The situation's changed."
"Situation?"
"We already have Borussia as our destination. They've accepted all our terms early and are just waiting on the player's choice. But you're late to the party, trying to piggyback off Borussia's efforts. Don't delude yourself—your position isn't equal to theirs."
"...No wonder directors lose their shit when your name comes up."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Fine. Our offer: buyout 50 million pounds. Activates from the 39-40 summer window. We won't interfere with buyout publicity. And no objections to international duty."
"Go on."
"But once the player's military service issue is resolved, we'd like to raise the buyout to 70 million pounds."
"....."
"In exchange, we'll pay more than Borussia's wage offer: 150,000 pounds. Bump to 200,000 post-service. Excludes bonuses, of course. We're open to goals, appearances, image rights, personal titles, league wins."
"Hm...."
"Not bad for a latecomer, right?"
"...Now I see a bit of your desperation for my client."
"So, shall we advance another step?"
"Ah. One more thing."
"One more?"
"Another crucial hurdle."
"Don't drag it out—spit it."
"To sign Theo, wait until the end of January."
"...What?"
"FYI, that's the deal with Borussia. Use your intel network to verify—it's no lie. If you can't, your info's sloppy."
"...This is insane. Wait till end of January? You know our club's situation...."
"That's why being late sucks. You have to catch up on the frontrunners' efforts just to stand equal."
"The wage hike catches up to their efforts!"
"Some things money can't buy."
"...Fuck."
"But some can be bought with money."
"...What?"
"Back to square one, huh? Think hard—how to shorten the wait. Not a fool, you'll get it quick. If not... you're not desperate enough."
"Wait, hold on...."
"Gotta wrap today's talk. Someone hunting Granero's successor has been waiting. Later."
"...Goddamn it all!"