Chapter 37: Establishing a connection

**** Join my Patreon for 30 or so Advance Chapters and my other stories . Link is Below. Remove space after http https:// www.patreon.com/c/Virtuosso777?redirect=true Drop some comments, Review and stones if you like it. *** "Mr. Pérez," Arthur said casually, as if he were just ordering another kebab, "have you ever thought that maybe some of your talented young players in Real Madrid's academy might actually want to play in real first-team matches?" For a second, Florentino Pérez just sat there, frozen. It wasn't clear if he was trying to figure out whether Arthur had lost his mind or if he was secretly hiding some next-level genius under that very polished suit. Florentino had heard some strange ideas in his life, but this? This was new. Since taking over Real Madrid, Florentino had made it a personal mission to fill the team with nothing but global superstars. He wasn't here for "development" or "potential." He was here for instant legend status. Every year: a new superstar, a new jersey launch, a new mountain of cash flowing in. Ronaldo, Figo, Zidane, Beckham — he collected them like they were Pokémon cards. Florentino had even taken the time to glance through Arthur's profile before tonight's meeting. He knew Arthur had a thing for young players — he was practically obsessed with giving kids a chance. But even then, Florentino had assumed Arthur meant, you know, players who at least looked like they could grow facial hair. Right now, in the Real Madrid youth system, most of the players were sixteen or seventeen at best. Most of them still needed their moms to drive them to practice. Did Arthur seriously want these half-grown teenagers to run around in the Premier League? Was he planning to arm them with swords and shields too? Florentino took a careful sip of his tea, buying himself a few more seconds to process the madness, then leaned forward and asked slowly: "Mr. Arthur, just so I understand you correctly... you want to buy these kids and put them straight into the Premier League?" Arthur smiled like he had just been asked if he wanted dessert. "Exactly." He could see Florentino's brain trying to reboot itself, so he leaned in and explained, nice and slow. "You see, Mr. Pérez, Leeds United is moving up to the Premier League next season. The schedule's going to be crazy — league matches, domestic cups, probably some days where we play three times in a week if the football gods are feeling especially cruel." Arthur shrugged dramatically. "Our current squad is way too thin for that. And frankly, I don't have the money to start buying established players left and right. So I thought: why not build a partnership that actually benefits both of us?" Florentino raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, motioning for Arthur to continue. Arthur smiled wider. This was the good part. "Here's my idea: Leeds United signs a bunch of your young players. We take the ones from the academy or maybe even a few stuck on the first-team bench. We bring them to England at very reasonable prices. We promise to give them real playing time — not just warming the bench, but minutes on the pitch, in real top-level games." Arthur leaned back like he had just pulled a rabbit out of his hat. "And, of course," he added casually, "we'll put clauses in the contracts. Three-year deals. If at any point during that time Leeds wants to sell one of these players, Real Madrid gets first refusal. You get the option to buy them back — no surprises, no drama." He spread his hands. "Simple. Clean. Everyone wins." For a few seconds, the private room went completely quiet except for the soft background music coming from the restaurant's speakers. Florentino looked at Arthur with a new kind of focus now. He wasn't confused anymore. He was thinking. In all honesty, Florentino had been feeling a headache about this very issue for months. Yes, Real Madrid's galactic roster had sold jerseys by the truckload. Yes, it had packed stadiums and generated enough marketing deals to fund a small country. But there was a problem — a big, sticky, uncomfortable problem. The superstars played every minute. There was no room left for the younger players coming through the academy. Even when a promising kid looked ready, he would be lucky to get ten minutes at the end of a meaningless game. How was the club supposed to develop the next Raúl or Casillas if they never even made it onto the pitch? The situation had already created whispers around the locker room — unhappy players, agents stirring up trouble, bad press. The balance of the team was suffering. And worse, the future pipeline of talent was drying up. In fact, right after the season ended, Florentino had called a meeting with his coaching staff to figure it out. The result? A lot of expensive coffee, several hours of people talking in circles, and zero actual solutions. And now, here was Arthur, casually proposing a solution that actually made sense. Arthur wasn't asking for Real Madrid's starting eleven. He wasn't trying to steal their crown jewels. He just wanted to borrow the academy kids no one had room for. He'd play them in the Premier League, toughen them up, and when they were ready to be superstars, Real Madrid could swoop in and buy them back before anyone else got their hands on them. Florentino could already see the headlines: "Real Madrid Reclaims Homegrown Talent After Successful Premier League Experience." It sounded almost too good to be true. And then Florentino thought of one more thing — something Arthur hadn't even mentioned. If Leeds United, under Arthur's management, played these young players well and gave them exposure, it would also boost their market value like crazy. Even if Real Madrid didn't buy them back, these kids would be worth triple or quadruple what they were now. It was basically free player development — without Real Madrid risking their own results. Since Leeds United lifted the Championship trophy, Arthur had been showered with praise from every football journalist who could string a sentence together. Some even called him the "second coming of Wenger" — not because he wore a long coat or complained about referees, but because of the insane amount of young talent he'd dug up from the dirt like a footballing gold miner. The average age of Arthur's Leeds squad? Barely old enough to rent a car without paying extra fees. Most of these kids had been nobodies until Arthur came along, waved his magic clipboard, and turned them into serious players. From that alone, you could tell Arthur wasn't just some lucky bloke who stumbled into success — the man actually knew how to coach. Florentino Pérez understood this. And sitting across from Arthur last night, listening to the young coach's proposal about Real Madrid's youth players, he realized something else: If Arthur could work that kind of miracle with random teenagers from England, imagine what he could do with kids who were actually trained at Real Madrid. If it worked, it would be the steal of the century — just buy them back later, fresh and battle-tested, without having to lift a finger. Besides, they were Real Madrid youth players — they still technically belonged to the club in spirit. And because these players would only be signing short contracts with Leeds (two or three years tops), Arthur couldn't slap ridiculous buyout clauses on them. There was no way Leeds could suddenly demand Messi-level fees. After thinking it through, Florentino's businessman brain gave the green light. Arthur's proposal wasn't just smart. It was Real Madrid smart. Florentino smiled warmly at Arthur across the table and said, "Mr. Arthur, from my personal standpoint, I really like your proposal. But you know how these things work — I'm not the king of Madrid. I'll need to take this back to the board and discuss it with the others before giving you a final answer." Arthur nodded, completely unfazed. "Of course, Mr. Pérez. No rush at all. The summer transfer window hasn't even opened yet. We've got plenty of time to hammer out the details." Florentino set down his tea cup and smiled for the first time during the meeting. "Mr. Arthur," he said smoothly, "I must admit, this is a very interesting proposal." Arthur grinned, knowing he had him. Florentino steepled his fingers together thoughtfully. "There will need to be some detailed discussions, of course — contracts, clauses, financial guarantees..." "Of course," Arthur said quickly. "We'll get the lawyers involved. I just wanted to hear if you're open to the idea." Florentino nodded. "I am." Arthur relaxed in his chair, feeling the kebab from earlier finally settling nicely in his stomach. He had come to Istanbul thinking he'd just watch a football match. Instead, he might be leaving with a secret pipeline straight into the heart of Real Madrid's youth system. Not bad for a guy who was still getting over England's terrible fried chicken. *** To Arthur, this had been a spontaneous idea anyway. If it worked, fantastic. If not, well, it hadn't cost him anything except one fancy dinner and a kebab-induced food coma. Since the big partnership talk was done, Arthur smoothly shifted gears to the other item on tonight's menu — Sneijder. According to Arthur's original plan, he wanted to keep Real Madrid close as a long-term business buddy, so he didn't plan to make this transfer difficult. He didn't haggle. He didn't play hard to get. He simply smiled and accepted Florentino's offer of 28 million euros for Sneijder. Deal done. Everyone happy. No drama. After the official business was wrapped up, the mood at the table relaxed like a loosened tie after a wedding. Florentino found out Arthur was just in Istanbul to catch the Champions League final and maybe buy a few watches — nothing fancy, no secret agent deals or billionaire meetups. Delighted by how easygoing Arthur was, Florentino offered him something even better: "Why don't you watch the final in my box tomorrow night?" Arthur almost said yes before the man even finished the sentence. VIP box, comfy seat, endless wine, and no need to wrestle with sweaty fans in the cheap seats? Sign him up. Arthur smiled and said, "I'd be honored." That night, Arthur slept like a baby. No sightseeing the next day. No unnecessary wandering around Istanbul's endless markets. He slept in like a professional sloth until 1 PM, dragged himself out of bed for lunch, and then hit the hotel gym just long enough to convince himself he still deserved dessert. After a quick workout and a shower, he suited up. Tonight was a big one. When Arthur arrived at the stadium alongside Florentino, he couldn't help but stare around like a kid at his first carnival. Thousands of fans packed the stands. Flags waved. Chants echoed through the air like battle cries. Down on the field, players from both teams were warming up, each touch of the ball promising something magical — or catastrophic — later. Arthur felt the excitement bubble in his chest. This was it. The first Champions League match he was ever seeing live — and it was the final, no less. After a while, Florentino returned, holding two glasses of red wine like a seasoned butler. He handed one to Arthur, who took it with a grateful nod. Florentino, sipping casually, turned to Arthur and asked, "Mr. Arthur, who are you supporting tonight?" Arthur didn't hesitate. "In all honesty, apart from Leeds, my second favorite team is AC Milan." Florentino blinked. He had half-expected Arthur to root for Liverpool — English loyalty and all that. "So... you're rooting for AC Milan to win?" he asked carefully. Arthur shook his head with a small chuckle. "Nope. I think Liverpool will win tonight." Florentino stared at him like he was trying to spot the hidden cameras. Had Arthur been drinking before the wine? First he says he loves AC Milan, now he says Liverpool's going to win? Pick a side, man. Arthur noticed Florentino's confusion and grinned. He set his wine glass down and explained patiently, like a teacher helping a very slow student: "Mr. Pérez, personally, I love AC Milan. Always have. But professionally, I'm the coach and owner of Leeds United now. I can't exactly sit here and root against English football, can I?" Florentino nodded slowly, as if Arthur had just explained the theory of relativity. "Ah. I see. Very loyal of you." Arthur smiled. "Exactly. Heart says Milan. Job says Liverpool." Arthur, feeling cheeky, then asked, "And you, Mr. Pérez? Who do you want to win?" Florentino smirked and answered with mock seriousness, "I think AC Milan should win. But, you know, I only ever really support one team — Real Madrid." He sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, we were knocked out by your beloved Liverpool." Arthur laughed. Florentino wasn't wrong — despite all the star power Real Madrid had assembled, they hadn't exactly dominated Europe in recent seasons. Superstars sold jerseys, sure, but they didn't automatically win Champions League titles. Florentino knew it, too. The "Galácticos" were aging. The squad needed fresh legs and fresh blood. Which was why he was seriously considering Arthur's crazy youth development plan. As Arthur sipped his wine and watched the players take their final warm-up sprints, he couldn't help but feel a quiet sense of triumph. He wasn't just here to watch a game. He was setting up a future for Leeds United. He was weaving ties with Real Madrid. And if tonight's game ended the way he thought it would, maybe he'd even see one of the greatest football miracles happen right in front of his eyes. Either way, life was pretty good right now. Especially with free red wine.