While the Aston Villa players celebrated their title win on the Wembley pitch, manager Dean Smith made his way to the press conference and began taking questions from the reporters.
"Dean, congratulations to you and your squad on winning the FA Cup, what do you believe was the crucial factor in Aston Villa's success this season?" a reporter from the Daily Mail asked, firing off the first question.
"Unity, without a doubt," Smith said into the microphone, his voice thick with pride. "The atmosphere within the dressing room is brilliant, and every single player fought relentlessly for this title. On top of that, we have a group of exceptionally talented lads like Theodore Bjorn, Jack Grealish, and Tammy Abraham. Especially Theodore, he's only seventeen, yet he's already become our star player."
After Smith answered, a reporter from Sky Sports posed another question, glancing up from her notes.
"Dean, Theodore Bjorn's market value has reportedly reached sixty million euros, and Twitter is blowing up with rumors that several top European clubs have made him their primary summer target. Do you think Theodore will still be in a Villa shirt next season?"
Despite the pointed nature of the reporter question, Smith offered a calm steady response.
"I personally believe Theodore is staying right here. He's the absolute cornerstone of our plans for the new season, and while many clubs will likely make astronomical offers once the window opens, I'm confident the board won't let him leave easily. Theodore is happy playing at Aston Villa, we've just won the Double, so I know he'll want to keep building on this momentum."
...
About half an hour later, the players reluctantly made their way back to the dressing room.
Inside, Sporting Director Jesus Garcia Pitarch was already waiting for the heroes to return.
"Lads, I'm fucking proud of you from the bottom of my heart," Pitarch began, his eyes scanning the exhausted but ecstatic faces.
"You've helped Aston Villa win the Double, which is the first time in this club's bloody history we've achieved something like this. You made history today! I said before that if you won the FA Cup, the club would reward you with a ten-million-pound bonus, but now I've changed my mind."
As he finished speaking, a tense silence spread across the room, and all eyes instinctively locked onto him.
"The club won't be rewarding you with ten million pounds... but with twenty million pounds!"
It was a classic fake-out, and the dramatic pause nearly made half the squad curse him out loud before the room erupted!
Head Coach Dean Smith then turned to his players, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you, every single one of you, for putting your bodies on the line this season. I hereby declare the 2018-2019 season officially over. You have a three-month vacation, so get out of here and enjoy your holidays. In three months, we come back and conquer the Premier League and the Europa League together."
The dressing room exploded in thunderous applause and cheers since the players finally had their well-deserved break, and with a hefty championship bonus secured, the excitement was palpable.
No one was happier than Jack Grealish, who was already thinking about hitting the pubs.
The moment the coach announced the break, Grealish rushed over to Theodore and grabbed his shoulder.
"Theo, mate, let's get the hell out of here and get some proper fucking pints in us. I've already booked us a VIP spot at the best pub in London."
This time, Theodore didn't refuse the invitation.
Grealish had asked him out countless times before, but Theodore always used the excuse of upcoming matches, and with the season done, he had zero reason to say no.
"Alright, you're on, just let me get showered first," Theodore laughed.
"I'll give you five minutes, hurry the fuck up," Grealish fired back, practically bouncing on his heels.
...
[Ding. Congratulations, Host, for winning the FA Cup.]
[Please select a Skill Card to draw.]
Just as Theodore stepped into the showers, the System's mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
He had almost forgotten about the reward.
This time, the System didn't just hand him a specific Skill Card but displayed three face-down cards in front of him instead, meaning he had to rely entirely on his own luck.
Theodore had no way of knowing which one was a Peak Card, a Black Gold Card, or a Platinum Card, so he casually tapped the middle one.
Instantly, a warm golden light flared before him, and when it faded, the massive words 'Peak Card' materialized.
Seeing those words, Theodore felt his heart skip a beat.
As the text faded, the Czech flag appeared, followed by the imposing image of a player in the national team kit.
Theodore recognized him instantly.
Pavel Nedvěd, the greatest midfielder in Czech history, the former engine of Juventus, the Iron Man of the pitch!
It was exactly what he needed since the card he drew was Nedvěd's Stamina Card.
[Ding. Congratulations, Host, for acquiring Nedvěd's Peak Stamina Card.]
[Stamina: 81 -> 98]
[Overall Rating: 79 -> 82]
Theodore's Stamina attribute skyrocketed from 81 to 98 in the blink of an eye, pulling his Overall Rating up to an 82.
His original stamina was decent, but acquiring a Peak Stamina Card elevated his physical endurance to an elite level.
A 98 rating effectively made him the most tireless player in modern football.
"Oi, Theo, are you done yet?" Grealish's voice echoed off the tiles, snapping him back to reality.
"Almost ready," Theodore shouted back, closing the interface with a massive grin plastered across his face.
Five minutes later, Theodore emerged dressed in a crisp white suit and dark sunglasses.
Grealish scrutinized the outfit and nodded approvingly.
"Not bad, mate, you look the part. Let's go enjoy this bloody holiday."
They piled into Grealish's red Ferrari convertible and sped off toward the heart of London.
...
Outside an upscale London bar, the roaring engine of a red Ferrari finally cut out, and two well-built figures stepped onto the pavement.
As Grealish pushed through the bar doors, he moved like he owned the place, expertly leading Theodore to the counter.
"Bauer, mate. You know the drill, get the usual going."
The bartender flashed him a thumbs-up, then turned his attention to Theodore. "Hey, Theo, what can I get for you?"
Theodore looked slightly surprised that the bartender used his name so casually. "You know me?"
Bauer chuckled, wiping down the counter. "Course I do, we just had the Sky Sports live feed of the final playing on the big screens. Twitter is going mental over you, and honestly, your performance was miles better than Jack's."
"Hey, fuck off Bauer, you're supposed to be my mate," Grealish complained, shaking his head. "How can you say I played shit? I drew half their defenders away."
Bauer slid a fresh pint over to Grealish with a smirk. "Jack, let's be real, you were a ghost out there tonight."
Grealish waved his hand, deciding not to argue. "Match is done, I don't want to hear about it anymore, we're here to get pissed."
He grabbed his pint and downed it in one smooth motion, then shoved a few more toward Theodore.
"Theo, cheers to the Double. Get it down you."
After a few heavy rounds, Grealish completely lost the plot.
He ripped his shirt off and stumbled onto the dance floor, showing off some horrendous moves.
When that wasn't enough, he started attempting some weird, drunken martial arts routine he claimed Theodore had taught him in training, leaving Theodore watching from the bar in utter disbelief.
Just then, an older man with a neat white beard took the empty stool beside him.
"If I'm not mistaken, you're Theodore Bjorn, right? Number 33 for Villa."
Theodore was surprised that anyone could recognize him through the dim lighting and sunglasses.
"That's me, sir." He pulled his glasses off as a sign of respect.
The old man's voice shook slightly as he spoke. "Hello, Theo, my name is Charlie. I'm from Birmingham and I've supported Villa for thirty years. Even though I live down in London now and can't always make the matches, I never miss a Sky Sports broadcast."
"Thank you for helping us win the Double, son. You've given this old man so much hope for the club's future."
Theodore offered a warm, grounded smile. "Mr. Charlie, winning the Double wasn't just on me, it was the whole squad working our asses off. I was just lucky enough to find the back of the net a few times."
Charlie shook his head, gripping Theodore's hand with unexpected strength. "Theo, my dying dream has always been to see Villa lift a European trophy. I know winning the Champions League is a tall order with our current squad, but I swear to God, I believe you can drag us to a Europa League title."
"Winning the Europa League is the plan," Theodore replied smoothly. "I'll do everything in my power to bring that trophy home."
A massive, genuine smile broke across Charlie's weathered face.
"So you're staying with us next season?"
"Of course I'm staying, I've still got a contract to honor."
Hearing that, Charlie let out a booming laugh. "Brilliant. Fucking brilliant, Theo. Let's get a drink on that."
He hoisted his glass and clinked it hard against Theodore's.