At 12:00 PM, a sleek black SUV pulled up to the gates of the Ciudad Real Madrid in Valdebebas.
Theodore Bjorn stepped out, his eyes sweeping over the massive, state-of-the-art training complex.
Waiting for him at the entrance was none other than Florentino Pérez.
The legendary President of Real Madrid beamed, extending both of his hands.
"Theodore, at last! It is an absolute honor to welcome you to Real Madrid," Florentino said, his voice dripping with respect.
"Thank you, Presidente," Theodore replied smoothly, shaking his hand. "The honor is entirely mine. Since I was a boy kicking a ball in the snow, I dreamed of wearing the pristine white of Madrid."
It wasn't just a PR line.
In his previous life, before the system, before the quadruple, Theodore had genuinely idolized the Galácticos.
Florentino personally escorted him through the complex to the Sanitas Medical Center.
Despite having played a grueling European final less than 48 hours prior, Theodore passed the two-hour medical with flying colors.
His maxed-out health attribute ensured he was in peak physical condition.
Following the medical, Theodore and Jonathan were ushered into Florentino's opulent, trophy-lined office.
The paperwork—a stack of contracts worth a mind-bending €320 million transfer fee and a €20 million signing bonus—was waiting.
Theodore reviewed the final details and signed his name with a flourish.
"Magnífico," Florentino sighed, genuine relief washing over his face.
He leaned across the desk, shaking Theodore's hand firmly. "Theodore, we have a question regarding your squad number. I strongly suggest the iconic Number 7! It is the legacy of Raúl and Cristiano. It carries the weight of this club."
Theodore considered it for a moment but shook his head.
"With respect, Presidente, I prefer the Number 10," Theodore said firmly. "I am a playmaker, a midfielder. The Number 7 is defined by Cristiano Ronaldo. I have no desire to be the 'next' Cristiano. I will be the first Theodore Bjorn!"
Florentino's eyes widened slightly at the teenager's immense self-assurance, but he quickly nodded.
"Of course. The Number 10 is the heartbeat of the team. It is yours."
Theodore couldn't linger in Madrid as he had one final obligation in England.
He finalized the details for his official presentation and immediately boarded a private jet back to Birmingham.
...
By 3:00 PM, the city of Birmingham was paralyzed.
The Aston Villa Championship Parade had officially commenced.
The squad boarded a massive, open-top double-decker bus that slowly crawled from Villa Park toward Victoria Square.
It seemed as though every single citizen of the city was lining the streets. The sea of claret and blue was blinding.
Everywhere Theodore looked, he saw his name and the number 33 plastered on the backs of fans.
When the bus finally reached Victoria Square, hundreds of thousands of people were packed shoulder-to-shoulder.
As Theodore stepped to the front of the bus, holding the Premier League trophy, a deafening chant erupted.
"THEO! THEO! THEO!"
Dean Smith handed him a microphone.
Theodore looked out over the endless sea of faces and the noise died down to a hushed, emotional silence.
"Hello, Villa," Theodore began, his voice echoing across the square. "It is the greatest privilege of my life to share these four trophies with you today."
A massive cheer erupted, but quickly faded as Theodore continued.
"As I'm sure you all know by now... my journey here ends this season."
A collective, heartbroken groan rippled through the crowd.
"This was the hardest decision of my life," Theodore said earnestly. "I arrived in Birmingham as a kid. The academy coaches molded me, Dean Smith gave me a chance when nobody else would. My teammates fought like lions for me every single week."
He looked directly at the crowd. "But most importantly... I want to thank you. Without your roaring support, without the Holte End pushing us when our legs were dead... this quadruple wont happen."
"Parting is for a better reunion," Theodore concluded, his voice catching slightly. "I am leaving to chase a new challenge. But no matter where I go, or what shirt I wear... I will always be a Villan."
The square erupted.
Fans wept openly, waving flags and screaming his name hysterically.
It was a heartbreaking, beautiful farewell.
The fans didn't want him to leave, but they knew the Midlands was too small a stage for a talent destined to rule the world!
...
At 5:00 PM sharp, the digital world shattered.
[Real Madrid C.F. Official Statement]: "Real Madrid C.F. and Aston Villa F.C. have reached an agreement for the transfer of Theodore Bjorn. The club will pay a world-record €320 million fee, plus the loan rights to several first-team players. Theodore Bjorn has signed a five-year contract and will be presented at the Santiago Bernabéu in two days. Welcome to Madrid, Theodore!"
[Aston Villa F.C. Official Statement]: "Thank you, Theo. We confirm the transfer of Theodore Bjorn to Real Madrid. You arrived as a prospect and leave as the greatest player in our history. Villa Park will always be your home."
The global sports media went into an absolute frenzy.
Marca: "THE €320M GALÁCTICO! Florentino breaks the bank to secure the future of football! Barcelona is officially on notice!"
AS: "La Liga is over before it begins. Real Madrid sign the Premier League King!"
The Guardian: "Aston Villa's miracle worker departs for a world-record fee. A sad day for English football, but a historic one for the sport."
Sky Sports: "Tears in Birmingham, Joy in Madrid. How do Aston Villa replace the irreplaceable?"
On the Aston Villa forums, the mood was one of somber gratitude.
"He gave us the greatest season of our lives and left us with €320 million to rebuild. The kid is a legend."
"Build the statue now. Right next to William McGregor."
"I'm terrified for next season, but I can't even be mad at him. He outgrew us."
In stark contrast, the Spanish forums were a carnival of joy.
"FLORENTINO PÉREZ MASTERCLASS! We got the best player in the world!"
"€320m is a bargain. He had 96 G/A as a teenager in the Premier League. He is going to dominate Europe for a decade."
"I can finally stop crying over Cristiano. The new King is here!"
On Twitter, "Theodore Bjorn" monopolized the top ten global trending topics.
"The Champions League is wrapped up. Madrid are winning number 14 next year."
"I'm a Barca fan and I'm genuinely terrified. How do you stop him?"
"Imagine Mbappé, Vini, and Bjorn... football is broken!"
...
That night, Theodore flew back to Madrid permanently.
His first order of business: a home.
He tasked Jonathan with finding suitable accommodation. The agent, earning his massive commission, delivered within five hours.
Jonathan secured a sprawling, ultra-modern, three-story villa in La Finca—Madrid's most exclusive, secure neighborhood favored by Galácticos.
It boasted an Olympic-sized swimming pool, a private 5-a-side pitch, an eight-car garage, and a commercial-grade gym.
Crucially, it was a five-minute drive from the Valdebebas training complex.
The price tag was €8 million. Theodore signed the deed without blinking.
When you have a €20 million signing bonus in the bank, €8 million is pocket change.
The following day, at noon, the Santiago Bernabéu awaited.
The press room was packed to absolute capacity. Journalists from every corner of the globe fought for space.
Flashbulbs strobed like a nightclub.
Florentino Pérez took the podium first.
"Ladies and gentlemen, today is a historic day for Real Madrid," Florentino announced, his voice booming.
"We welcome a player who, at just eighteen years old, conquered English football. A quadruple winner, a Golden Boot winner, and the most spectacular talent of his generation. Theodore Bjorn guarantees that Real Madrid will remain the kings of Europe!"
Zinedine Zidane stepped up next and the manager looked genuinely thrilled.
"As a coach, having a player with Theodore's vision, power, and technique is a dream. We cannot wait to integrate him. This season belongs to Madrid!"
Finally, Theodore approached the microphones and the room fell dead silent.
"I grew up watching Real Madrid," Theodore said smoothly, exuding an icy calm. "I dreamed of this white shirt. I know the expectations here are higher than anywhere else on earth. I embrace that pressure. I came to Madrid to win everything."
The room erupted in applause.
Florentino stepped forward, holding up a pristine white Real Madrid jersey.
Emblazoned on the back was the name BJORN, and beneath it, the iconic Number 10.
Theodore took the shirt and smiled for the cameras as the flashbulbs exploded.
---------
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