Connections (2)
The restaurant was remarkably upscale. Elegant paintings that screamed expense at first glance hung on the walls in ornate antique frames, while chandeliers embroidered across the ceiling radiated a subtle yet opulent glow. It served Spanish cuisine, but what set it apart was the private room tucked away at the back of the interior. It was right here that Borja Navas welcomed me and the Bravo couple.
“Your complexion looks even healthier than when I saw you at that party last time. I'm glad.”
“Hoho. It's all thanks to my husband.”
“I can really feel how much the two of you love each other.”
“I think you said something similar back then too...”
“That just means it's not empty flattery. Haha.”
After a brief exchange of greetings with Borja Navas, he shared some light conversation with the Bravo couple.
“Ah, we really appreciated you sorting out Luis's housing issue last time.”
“No need to mention it. That's my job, haha.”
“I'm sorry I couldn't reach out to you directly.”
“No, it's fine. That kid's a really good guy. Not fussy at all. And at such a young age, he already has a family—I still remember how adorable that child was.”
“Surprisingly, it's a boy.”
“That's exactly why it sticks out so clearly, hahaha!”
I sipped my water steadily, sizing up Borja Navas. He didn't have that cutthroat look you stereotypically associate with super agents. More of a gentlemanly air, perhaps. But those eyes of his flashed with an intensity that could swallow a man whole. My very first impression had been, 'Ah, picking a fight with this guy would be a bad idea.' Beneath his soft, kind image lurked a razor-sharp edge.
His gaze settled back on me.
“Theo, any foods you can't eat? Or are you on a strict diet right now...?”
“No, nothing like that. I don't pick at my food. Perfect timing too—I'm starving after the match.”
“Replenishing well is crucial. Players have to be meticulous about every bite.”
Borja Navas flashed a warm smile and took charge of the ordering without missing a beat. The Bravo couple handed over full reins on the menu choices too, as if eager to test just how spot-on his taste really was.
“Does it suit everyone's palate?”
“It's pretty damn good. I came here ages ago and was a bit disappointed back then.”
“Exactly. Things changed big time after the head chef switched about a year ago. Before that, people said ninety percent of the price was the ambiance and only ten percent the taste.”
“Spot on—that's exactly how it felt. Haha.”
As Borja Navas and Jose Bravo had said, the food was exceptional, not just riding on the atmosphere. Seasoning spot-on, cooking just right. Beyond the flavors, the textures stood out with every bite, clearly a point of obsession.
Throughout the meal, we chatted about this and that with Borja Navas. I'd figured he'd bombard me with sweet talk to seal a deal right away, barely touching his food. But instead of coming on strong, he eased in gradually, narrowing the distance bit by bit.
“It's fascinating, really. Your skills improved beyond recognition after coming to Spain...”
“Guess the pressure was heavier back in Korea.”
“And that pressure vanished once you got here?”
“I came thinking it was my last shot, but honestly, I didn't have high hopes even then. More like, let's just play the soccer I want, full throttle.”
I summarized my life story for him—from my early days in Korea to how I ended up playing soccer in Spain. Weaving in some embellished tales, minus the goblin encounter, of course. Whether he was genuinely hooked or just pretending, Borja Navas listened intently, ears perked.
“But here's the thing. I see it a bit differently.”
Borja Navas took a light sip of wine to wet his whistle.
“I don't think your skills suddenly skyrocketed. You always had that elite talent; something was just holding it back. And coming to Spain removed that barrier. Could be psychological, like you said.”
Everyone chalked up my overnight leap to something like that.
“Still, there's one part that doesn't add up for me.”
A faint smile played on Borja Navas's lips as he continued.
“With that level of talent, even if hidden for whatever reason, the coaches around you would've spotted it.”
“Ah... well...”
“Anyway, it's worked out great. Those coaches at your old Korean club tragically missed your insane potential.”
Hm. Stings a little. They didn't miss it—back then, this god-tier soccer skill simply didn't exist. Felt kinda bad dragging Gimpo United's innocent coaches through the mud.
...Not like I could blurt out, 'I traded with a goblin instead!' This secret's mine for life.
“Speaking of which, mind if we dive deeper?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Borja Navas moistened his throat with another sip of wine.
“First off, full honesty: I've only known about you, Theo, for a week.”
“Ah, I see.”
That caught me off guard. I'd assumed his sister Niela was the connection.
“I heard about your first-half hat-trick in the preseason against Rayo Vallecano. And to be frank again, even then, I wasn't that interested.”
Hm. Brutally honest, huh.
“Then by chance, I caught today's match. To check on one of my clients, Angel Vasquez—you might not know him, but we're pushing a loan move for him.”
I just nodded silently as Borja Navas pressed on.
“But... I couldn't focus on Angel the whole game. As his agent, that's a fail. But unavoidable.”
I could already guess the punchline, a flush of embarrassment creeping in.
“Couldn't take my eyes off you for a second. Fundamentals go without saying—athleticism, ball control, dribbling, breakthroughs, shooting, passing... all perfect.”
I let out an awkward chuckle amid the praise torrent. The Bravo couple, listening beside me, nodded calmly along like it was no big deal. Guess I'm the only one embarrassed here.
“What gave me chills, though, was your tactical awareness. When Alcorcon's setup faltered, you always plugged the gaps. Positioning perfectly for links, even dropping to midfield at times.”
No embarrassment here—I wasn't shy about this. He'd nailed it. In today's opener, I hadn't fixated solely on goals. To elevate the soccer style Jordi Calavera envisioned, I'd covered teammates' sloppy movements and the voids they left, boosting the overall team play quality. The goblin didn't just gift raw skill.
...Though technically, soccer IQ falls under that skill umbrella.
“That's when I knew—you'll be the world's top striker soon. A player who can do this adapts seamlessly anywhere, delivering peak performance.”
Borja Navas locked eyes with me, utterly sincere.
“You might think, what does some agent know? But I played semi-pro in college, youth at Valencia as a kid.”
“Oh, really.”
“After uni, I got into entertainment management but never dropped soccer. Earned my FIFA agent license and targeted young prospects first.”
Borja Navas shared his own backstory now.
“Had to hustle to convince them—I had no track record as an agent. Lucky my dad provided solid capital, which helped a ton.”
The Bravo couple leaned in too.
“I pick my clients. If a player's caught my eye, I watch their games, analyze, decide. Most I've scouted that way grew just as I predicted.”
From there, fame snowballed; he took on superstars already established, climbing to his current throne, he added.
“Truth is, arranging a sudden meet like today is rare for me. No exaggeration—first time.”
His eyes held no deceit.
...If that's acting, he should ditch agents for Oscars.
“Of course, I did watch your footage before the game. Even then, I didn't crave to rep you. But one match today changed everything.”
Borja Navas spoke gravely.
“Theo, you're starting to grasp how phenomenal you are. Sticking to this path, a bigger stage and club aren't far off—you know that.”
I nodded instead of replying.
“But this level's tough solo. You need a capable agent handling contracts, daily life—everything—so you focus purely on soccer.”
Borja Navas's eyes began to gleam sharper.
“The agent you need... the one you're seeking...”
He trailed off briefly before finishing.
“I'm convinced—I'm that perfect fit.”
My first meeting with Borja Navas wrapped up smoothly. No snap signing or decisions on the spot. He didn't push either—just pitched himself hard. Handing over his card, he said, “Call anytime with contract questions, or drop by the office. Take time, discuss it over, decide.”
Jose Bravo offered no real advice. Just, “Navas is the hottest agent out there right now. Need I say more?”
No rush anyway—we weren't hiring to force a transfer. Others might approach if I waited, given my form. But pitting agents against each other wouldn't net me extras. No signing fees, and FIFA caps commissions anyway.
No reason to drag it out. Plus, an agent handles more than contracts—personal life, all sorts of help. Early hire? Zero downside. Fee's a measly 3%.
Agents chasing me eye future windfalls over my current salary skim.
Next day. Lounging solo at home for a rare rest, awaiting Yuko's evening visit.
“Theo, if you're not busy, can you spare a moment?”
“Now?”
“Yeah, now. Too sensitive for phone.”
I glanced at the time. A couple hours before Yuko arrived.
“Clubhouse okay?”
“Yeah. My office.”
“On my way.”
Hanging up, I tilted my head slightly. Iñigo Chapé's voice had a low, sunken tone that nagged at me.