"My name's Enzo, from GloboNews, thank you for accepting this interview on such short notice." Enzo adjusted his glasses, the reflection of the studio lights flickering across the lenses as he leaned forward, notepad resting nervously against his knee.
"It may be a bit sudden, but… up until now you've been playing for Real Madrid, arguably the greatest club in the world."
He paused briefly, measuring the weight of his next question.
"Now your contract has run its course and you're officially a free agent. There's been a lot of speculation… a lot of hope, even, back home. Is there any possibility you return to Brazil? Flamengo, Bahia. Clubs that would welcome you like a hero?"
A silence lingered in the room.
"To be honest, Enzo…" Wagner Tonexo leaned back into his chair, crossing his legs slowly, his fingers pressing against his forehead as if trying to push away the question itself. His jaw tightened. "I'd rather die than play in this league."
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, a faint, almost bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I'd much rather test myself in Germany… or France. Somewhere the game still demands something from you." His eyes flicked up, colder now, sharper. "Then go back and spend my time playing against washed-up Italians chasing one last paycheck."
"Okay… anyways." Enzo cleared his throat awkwardly, still visibly trying to recover from Wagner previous answer. He glanced down at his notes before forcing a professional smile back onto his face. "Wagner, you were recently selected by FIFA in their Golden Generation XI, and on top of that, you're regarded as one of the most promising wingers in world football, someone countless clubs would love to have in their starting elevens."
He shifted in his seat, sensing the growing hostility in the room but pushing forward regardless.
"With that being said, many people expect you to be one of the faces of Brazil's next World Cup campaign… possibly even the man who leads them to bringing it home. Do you believe you're capable of carrying that responsibility?"
Wagner let out a quiet laugh.
Not one of humility.
The kind that dripped with disbelief that such a question even needed answering.
He leaned back in his chair, spreading his arms across either side as if the room belonged to him. His expensive watch glinted beneath the studio lights while he tilted his head toward Enzo.
"If I'm being completely clear…" he began, his tone almost bored. "There is not a single person in that squad worthy of standing beside me."
The room immediately stiffened.
Camera operators exchanged glances.
One of the producers lowered their headset in disbelief.
"I was born in the wrong country." Wagner continued without hesitation, his expression remaining completely serious. "France… that's where real football lives."
He smirked.
"The technical wingers. The elite goalscorers. Players who actually understand the sport."
He tapped his chest with two fingers.
"My type of player."
Enzo blinked repeatedly, trying to process whether the winger was joking.
He wasn't.
Off-camera, someone muttered under their breath.
"This guy's a slob… how does he talk like this to the media?"
Wagner's eyes immediately snapped toward the voice.
The smirk vanished.
He stood from his chair, slowly straightening his suit jacket.
"My manager will handle the rest."
He adjusted his cuffs before turning toward the exit.
"And thank you…"
He looked back one final time, his stare sharp enough to silence the entire room.
"For wasting my time."
The studio doors slammed shut behind Wagner as he stormed down the hallway, his manager practically jogging to keep up with him.
"Are you out of your mind?" his manager barked, grabbing Wagner by the arm before he could reach the parking lot. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
Wagner yanked his arm free, rolling his eyes. "I answered his question."
"You detonated your entire public image in under ten minutes."
The manager ran both hands through his hair in frustration, pacing in tight circles.
"The media will hate you by now, Wagner. Hate you." He pointed back toward the studio. "That clip is already everywhere. Every sports page in Brazil is posting it. Every former player is going to criticize you. They'll call you arrogant, disrespectful, ungrateful,"
"They already do."
"That was before you insulted your own national team and practically declared you wished you were French!"
Wagner scoffed, adjusting the sleeves of his designer jacket.
"Well maybe France develops better players."
His manager stared at him in disbelief.
"You cannot keep saying whatever enters your head just because you think you're talented enough to survive it."
"I am talented enough."
Before the argument could continue, Wagner noticed someone standing near a black car parked outside the building.
Leaning casually against the vehicle was a man instantly recognisable to anyone in world football.
Ademir.
The Borussia Dortmund legend.
Five Bundesliga titles.
A Champions League winner.
Brazil's former captain.
A player many considered one of the greatest attacking midfielders of the Messi and Ronaldo generation.
And more importantly,
The man who had mentored Wagner since he was sixteen.
Ademir folded his arms, his expression unreadable.
Wagner's confidence noticeably dipped.
"Coach…"
Ademir pushed himself off the car.
"Walk with me."
For once, Wagner listened without complaint.
The two walked in silence through the quiet underground parking lot while Wagner's manager wisely stayed behind.
After nearly a minute, Ademir finally spoke.
"You embarrassed yourself today."
Wagner frowned. "They asked stupid questions."
Ademir stopped walking.
"No."
His voice was calm.
Which somehow made it worse.
"You gave stupid answers."
Wagner looked away.
Ademir stepped closer.
"You think being great gives you permission to disrespect people?"
"I was being honest."
"Honesty without discipline is just arrogance."
Wagner clenched his jaw but remained silent.
Ademir continued.
"You insulted Brazil."
"I insulted mediocre players."
"You insulted the badge."
That made Wagner pause.
Ademir pointed toward him.
"You wear that shirt because millions of children in Brazil dream of being you."
His voice grew firmer.
"They wake up at 5 a.m. to train on broken pitches. They skip meals to afford boots. They defend you in every debate."
He shook his head.
"And today you told them they aren't good enough for you?"
Wagner's arrogance began to crack.
"That's not what I meant."
"It doesn't matter what you meant."
Ademir's stare sharpened.
"It matters what the world heard."
Wagner stayed quiet.
Ademir sighed.
"You have gifts most players would kill for. Speed. Technique. confidence."
He paused.
"But respect?"
He tapped Wagner's chest.
"That part is learned."
"And if you don't learn it now…"
Ademir looked him directly in the eyes.
"The football world will enjoy watching you fail."
For the first time all day, Wagner had nothing to say.