Check out advanced chapters on P@treon: [email protected]/CosmicKaminari
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Madrid International Airport.
Lance was waiting for his flight.
As the star player who had just completed the Champions League, La Liga, and Copa del Rey treble, Lance was recognized by plenty of fans despite wearing a mask and sunglasses.
Fortunately, the fans in the VIP lounge were very considerate.
After politely asking for photos and autographs, they didn't bother him any further.
Otherwise, if he had been waiting in the regular terminal outside, there was no way he would have boarded his flight today.
Whenever he walked through the streets of Spain, he would quickly be surrounded by passionate supporters.
Who said foreign fans had higher standards?
When they got excited, they were the same everywhere in the world.
"Mr. Lance, would you like any snacks or desserts? Our freshly baked French croissants are available today..."
"No, thank you."
For some reason, the attendants in the first-class lounge kept finding excuses to chat with him.
One blonde attendant with wavy hair and high heels practically looked ready to hand him her Instagram account.
"Look, it's you."
The young woman pointed toward a massive CK underwear advertisement nearby and laughed.
Lance was now one of CK's contracted football stars.
His endorsement level was comparable to David Beckham's, earning him an annual fee of seven million dollars.
Combined with sponsorships from brands such as Armani, Aston Martin, Mercedes-Benz, Anta, and Coca-Cola, along with his top-tier salary at Atlético Madrid, Lance's annual pre-tax income was approaching €40 million.
Because he spent nearly all of his time training and playing football, he rarely had opportunities to spend money.
As a result, Lance had almost no concept of how wealthy he had become.
It wasn't until Jorge Mendes reviewed his second-quarter financial report that Lance finally understood the scale of his assets.
"How much?"
"After taxes and reasonable investments, including your real estate holdings, your net assets currently stand at €31 million.
"Your available cash flow is approximately €16 million.
"The investment team is continuing to allocate funds into stocks, funds, gold, and other assets. Would you like to increase the investment ratio?"
More than €30 million in total assets?
Lance had been stunned when he heard the report.
Two years in the Bundesliga hadn't even earned him as much as half a season at Atlético Madrid.
At eighteen years old, he had already surpassed ninety-nine percent of the world's population financially.
And his wealth would only continue growing in the years ahead.
Looking at the giant advertisement featuring himself not far away, Lance finally began accepting the reality that he had become an international superstar.
"Lance, are you on the plane yet?"
"Still waiting. How are your exams going?"
"I'm preparing for them."
Chloe sounded exhausted.
A few days earlier, after the Champions League Final in Milan, Lance had spent some time with his parents.
By accident, he overheard them talking about meeting a very cute German girl in Munich.
The description sounded suspiciously like Chloe.
However, Lance hadn't thought much about it.
After all, Chloe had said she was busy preparing for her final exams and project reports and didn't have time to travel to Italy for the match.
It was probably just another fashion model.
His mother, Zhao Ping, had even suggested introducing them.
At the time, Lance didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"How do I have time to date right now? Besides, I'm only eighteen. I won't even turn nineteen until next month. It's way too early."
"Hey, lots of Europeans marry young. Look at all those football stars who already have two children by nineteen. You should start preparing early too."
"..."
Parents really could turn everything into a competition.
Lance's thoughts drifted for a moment before Chloe's voice pulled him back.
Listening to her complain in soft, adorable German about how difficult her project was, Lance couldn't help smiling.
He could practically picture her cute, pouting expression.
"I wish I could study with you."
"..."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. You still have to attend the European Cup training camp. Once my exams are over, I'll go to France and watch your match live."
"Okay. You already missed the Champions League Final, so you have to come watch the European Cup Final. I need to board now. I'll call you later."
"Okay. I know you'll make it to the final. Let me know when you land."
After hanging up, Chloe stared at her phone for a long time without saying a word.
Beside her, Laila glanced over curiously.
"Your face is so red. Did your boyfriend say something sweet?"
"No!"
Chloe hurriedly denied it.
But after thinking about it, was that actually a sweet remark?
Lance wasn't her boyfriend at all.
She was too lazy to explain the situation every time, so Laila always complained that the two of them acted more like elementary school kids in love than actual elementary school kids.
At least elementary school couples held hands and kissed.
Meanwhile, Chloe and her "other half" still seemed stuck in kindergarten.
As a self-proclaimed romantic Frenchwoman, Laila found it unbelievable.
But Chloe saw things differently.
She believed there had to be something special between her and Lance.
Otherwise, why would a superstar footballer always take the initiative to call her and chat?
A bold thought suddenly appeared in her mind.
If Lance reached the European Cup Final, regardless of whether he won the tournament or not...
Should she confess?
The moment the thought appeared, her neck and ears turned bright red.
But instead of fading away, the idea only grew stronger.
"Then I'll secretly tell him that I actually watched the Champions League Final live. The look on his face will definitely be priceless."
...
Meanwhile, Lance was thinking about something similar during the flight.
Maybe after the European Cup ended, he could take Chloe on a trip and then finally confess.
That would also save him from the endless rumors constantly invented by European tabloids.
Before the Champions League semifinals, Lance had filmed a Coca-Cola commercial.
During the shoot, he met globally famous pop superstar :contentReference[oaicite:0]{index=0}.
The two exchanged a few words and contact information, but nothing more.
To Lance, Taylor Swift was undeniably beautiful, tall, and attractive. The dream girl of countless people.
But he never gave the encounter a second thought.
In fact, if he hadn't later seen her picture in a magazine, he probably would have forgotten the meeting entirely.
At the time, he was busy fighting for La Liga, the Champions League, and the Copa del Rey.
Something so minor barely registered in his memory.
Yet because of a few interactions captured by the media, countless newspapers and online outlets began spreading rumors about the two of them during the Champions League semifinals and final.
It was absurd.
How could people seriously try to pair them together?
Lance genuinely couldn't understand it.
In any case, he had no interest in dating celebrities from the entertainment industry.
If both people were global superstars and completely devoted to their careers, the relationship probably wouldn't last very long.
And then she'd write a song about him afterward.
What would be the point?
Lost in thought throughout the flight, Lance eventually arrived at :contentReference[oaicite:1]{index=1}.
Pulling his suitcase behind him, he walked out of the terminal and immediately spotted staff members from Belgium holding a pickup sign.
In preparation for the upcoming UEFA European Championship in France, most of Belgium's players had already gathered and begun training in Saint-Denis, north of Paris.
As the centerpiece of the treble-winning season and the "superhero" who had scored four goals in the Champions League Final, Lance was naturally the most important player in the squad.
The Belgian coaching staff practically wanted to put him on a pedestal.
After loading his luggage into the trunk and opening the car door, Lance was surprised to see a familiar face.
:contentReference[oaicite:2]{index=2}.
"Lance, welcome back. Are you ready?"
"You rascal."
Lance lightly punched De Bruyne on the shoulder.
"Of course. I'm ready anytime!"
Fresh off a historic treble, Lance's confidence was overflowing.
Cristiano Ronaldo's European Championship title?
Sorry.
This time, it might not be so secure.
