Offseason (4): The Sweet Vacation Ends
The sweet vacation had come to an end. In truth, I still had more than a month left of my allotted break, but I'd never planned to fritter it all away on fun and games from the start.
A player who'd gone full throttle for an entire season—especially one who's already cemented their spot—might afford that luxury. But as I'd told Miguel Amaro and Joni Montoya before, I was still the challenger here.
Of course, slacking off for a bit wouldn't make my soccer skills rust away. I'd thought about it. But that very fact made me steel my resolve even harder.
This soccer prowess wasn't something I'd earned through my own sweat and toil, after all. So if I wanted to be worthy of it, didn't I have to run twice as hard as everyone else?
The anxiety that these skills, which had arrived like a midsummer night's dream, might vanish like a midwinter night's fantasy—it only drove me to work even harder.
The day after my parents left, I met up with Rubén Soriano.
Even though it had been over two weeks since the season ended, his physical condition looked no different from mid-season. If anything, it felt a touch sharper.
"Get some good rest?"
"Spent some quality time with the family."
"Good man."
"But... it kinda feels like you didn't take any vacation at all. Am I imagining things, Rubén?"
Rubén Soriano chuckled at my question.
"I did squeeze in a little family time, at least. I told you—they understood this time around."
His eyes and voice brimmed with the gritty determination to grind through next season like never before.
"What about Miguel and Joni?"
"They'll join us next week."
With preseason still over a month away, even the most diligent players usually ramp up training two or three weeks out. Our schedule was a bit ahead of the curve. Sure, there were probably others prepping even earlier, like us.
"What I'm focusing on right now isn't just bulking up."
Before we dove into the workout, Rubén Soriano gave a quick rundown.
"Building stamina and minimizing injury risk—that's my top priority."
"Got it."
"Your body's already in prime shape, so no need to pack on more mass here. I've clashed with you in training a few times—your physicality is top-notch."
He gave my frame a quick once-over before continuing.
"Don't underestimate it, though. This injury-prevention and stamina work will be tougher and harder than anything we do in-season."
"I'm fully prepared."
I showed my resolve, and Rubén Soriano flashed a satisfied smile.
"That's what I like to hear. Let's get to it."
And so, the two of us headed to a training center somewhere in Madrid. It wasn't huge, but it was packed with pricey equipment and all the latest high-tech gear.
"They don't take walk-ins. Even new members need a referral from an existing one."
"Whoa..."
"That's how elite it is. Not just any trainers—these are pros with real expertise."
Rubén Soriano took clear pride in the place.
"No exaggeration. Right now, Nacho Derapuente and Kike Arteiro are training here during the offseason. You know who they are, right?"
I nodded immediately. How could I not?
Nacho Derapuente, Real Madrid's winger and a current world-class talent dubbed the "Wing of the Invincible Armada." Kike Arteiro, Atlético Madrid's midfielder, another world-class pillar of that same armada.
Core players for the Spanish national team and their clubs—the fact that these stars were offseason training here instantly elevated the center's reputation in my eyes.
"Truth be told, even I had a hard time getting in at first. That's why I started early. But the real kicker? One of the trainers here is a close buddy of mine."
"Ah!"
"Oh, but he's not the one training us. Guy's been busy lately."
Rubén Soriano scanned the interior and pointed to a spot.
"See those security guys?"
Now that he mentioned it, one of the training rooms was shut tight, guarded by two burly men planted right in front.
At first glance, I'd mistaken them for trainers—their builds were straight-up bodybuilder level. But no. Why would trainers block the door like human screens?
"My friend's a wizard at sculpting killer physiques. Doesn't matter if it's men or women."
"So in there..."
"You know the singer Niela?"
First time hearing the name. I shook my head slightly, and Rubén Soriano shrugged like, fair enough, before explaining.
"Pop star. Pretty big in the US, let alone Spain."
"Oh."
"You might've heard her tracks. Not the biggest star, but she's got music videos topping a hundred million views, and she's charted high on Billboard plenty."
Not sure if it was national pride, but there was a hint of smugness in how Rubén introduced her.
"Among players, though, she's famous for a different reason."
"Different how?"
"Her brother."
I racked my brain fast. Any famous Spanish soccer players with a pop-star sister? I'd heard of guys with singer girlfriends or wives... but a sister? Nothing came to mind.
"Borja Navas. Ring a bell?"
"Borja Navas... Borja... Wait, what?!"
I shot him wide-eyed, and Rubén chuckled, nodding.
"Yup, that Borja Navas. The most influential agent out there right now."
BN Agency. Anyone into overseas soccer would've heard of it. Hell, even pop fans lately.
"Niela's brother is BN Agency's CEO, Borja Navas himself. That's why she's a big deal among players."
BN had been signing pop stars and top soccer talent left and right these past few years, skyrocketing their fame. Even Nacho Derapuente and Kike Arteiro were clients, as Rubén had mentioned.
The agency's head, Borja Navas, was the blood brother of the woman training in that room.
"Impressive guy. The Navás family was already big in Spanish music production."
"I see..."
"Started managing singers using his dad's connections, then pivoted to soccer. Now he's a powerhouse agent."
Borja Navas really blew up when he engineered Yoel Bergkvist's move from Everton FC to Manchester City FC. The Swedish striker, nicknamed "The Beast" from his name, was already the world's top forward—three straight seasons over 30 goals starting at age twenty, three-time Premier League Golden Boot winner.
Borja pulled off a staggering £250 million transfer fee. Over 400 billion won—an absurd sum that still holds the record for the priciest transfer in history.
I suddenly recalled articles saying his commission alone was nearly £50 million.
"Anyway, word is Niela's prepping a new album, so she's laser-focused on her body. My friend's giving her the full treatment for her comeback."
"Now it clicks. Why those guards are planted like statues at the door."
With a sister like that—raking in top agent fees year after year—who wouldn't treasure her?
"By the way, I thought Borja Navas was over forty... so she's not exactly young either?"
"You really know nothing. They're half-siblings, over fifteen years apart."
"Huh?"
"Yeah."
That explained why I'd never connected Borja Navas with a pop-star sister.
"They get along great, from what I hear. Can't blame him—I'd spoil a sister like Niela too. She's stunning."
Rubén's words piqued my curiosity. How gorgeous was this Niela to get a married guy like him hyping her up?
It didn't take long to find out.
Minutes after greeting Rubén's dedicated trainer and kicking off the real workout—
Bang!
The sealed door flew open, and out stepped Niela from the training room.
My eyes locked on her instinctively. And I couldn't help nodding to myself.
Rubén wasn't exaggerating—she was a knockout.
It hit like the first time I'd seen Elena. Voluptuous curves, porcelain skin. Even drenched in sweat, she glowed. No heavy makeup, just a fresh-faced look that outshone Elena by a notch.
The only "flaw"? Her chest was a size smaller than Elena's or Yuko's. Still plenty—perfectly proportioned beauty.
Talk about the idol vs. civilian gap.
Not that I was smitten at first sight or anything. More like admiring a masterpiece painting in a gallery.
That's when it happened.
Our eyes met—dead on.
I snapped my gaze away, refocusing on the workout. No way was I staring; those bodyguard bros looked ready to pounce.
But then...
Tap tap.
A soft touch on my back. It was Niela.
She peered at my face, eyes widening, then parted her pretty lips with a sparkle in her gaze.
"...Found you!"
Huh? Found what?