The press conference smoothly transitioned into the Q&A segment.
A sea of raised hands shot up from the journalists.
The press officer pointed to a female reporter with a ponytail in the second row.
"Hola, Theodore. I'm a reporter from Marca," she began, leaning into the microphone. "How does it feel to officially join Real Madrid? And realistically, do you believe you can help this team secure both La Liga and the Champions League next season? Thank you."
Theodore adjusted his microphone, his demeanor relaxed and confident.
"I am absolutely thrilled," he responded smoothly in fluent English. "It is a privilege to join the best football club in the world. Honestly, I am counting down the days until I can put the shirt on and get to work. As for expectations... I am here to win. Under Coach Zidane's leadership, and with the squad we have, I absolutely believe we can compete for—and win—every single title."
The next question came from a bespectacled journalist representing AS.
"Theodore, Cristiano Ronaldo built a legendary legacy here, achieving world-class status and winning countless trophies. As the new record signing, do you think you can surpass Ronaldo's achievements at the Bernabéu?"
It was a loaded question, designed to generate a headline.
Theodore raised a single eyebrow, pausing for a fraction of a second before answering.
"Cristiano Ronaldo is a legend," Theodore stated respectfully but firmly. "What he achieved here was phenomenal. But I did not come to Madrid to be the 'second Ronaldo.' I came here to be Theodore Bjorn. I have my own path, and I will give absolutely everything to write my own history and bring glory to this club."
The answer was perfect.
Confident, respectful, but fiercely independent.
Florentino Pérez, sitting beside him, nodded approvingly.
...
Once the press conference concluded, it was time for the main event.
Florentino Pérez and Zinedine Zidane escorted Theodore out of the media room and down the famous tunnel leading to the pitch.
As they walked, a low, rumbling vibration began to shake the concrete walls.
The Bernabéu was waiting.
The moment Theodore stepped out of the shadows and onto the pristine green grass, wearing the pristine white Real Madrid kit with the Number 10 on his back, the stadium erupted.
"THEO! THEO! THEO!"
It was a wall of sound
. Approximately 50,000 Madridistas had packed the lower tiers of the Santiago Bernabéu simply to witness a teenager juggle a football.
The atmosphere for a signing ceremony was absolutely electric.
Theodore jogged to the center circle, a genuine smile breaking across his face. He waved to all four corners of the stadium, soaking in the adulation.
A ball was rolled out to him.
Theodore put on a brief, effortless display of keepie-uppies, executing a few around-the-worlds and balancing the ball on the back of his neck to the delight of the crowd.
As the applause died down, a staff member trotted out and handed Theodore a microphone.
This hadn't been on the itinerary.
There was no script, no teleprompter. He was expected to address 50,000 demanding fans off the cuff.
Theodore took the microphone, totally unfazed. He looked around the colossal arena.
"Hola Madridistas," Theodore began, his voice echoing through the massive PA system.
"Playing for Real Madrid has been my dream since I first touched a football. Today, that dream is a reality. This is the most successful, prestigious club on the planet. To wear this white shirt is the greatest honor of my life."
Thunderous applause washed over him.
"But I am not here just to wear the shirt," Theodore continued, his voice rising, projecting absolute authority.
"I am here to win! Next season, I will give my blood, sweat, and tears to bring the Champions League trophy back to the Bernabéu! We will fight for La Liga! We will fight for the Copa del Rey! Real Madrid will rule Europe once again!"
The stadium exploded.
It was exactly what they needed to hear.
Ever since Ronaldo departed for Juventus in 2018, Madrid had felt a void.
They had won La Liga this season, but their Champions League campaigns had ended in bitter disappointment.
The fans were desperate for a new king to lead them back to the European summit.
Theodore had just promised them the world.
He finished the ceremony with a slow lap of honor, waving to the fans and kissing the badge, cementing his status as the new idol of Madrid.
With the media circus finally over, Theodore's season was officially complete.
It was time to go home.
...
That evening, he boarded a private jet bound for Oslo, Norway.
He touched down in the early hours of the morning. Exhausted, Theodore walked out of the arrivals terminal, expecting a quiet exit.
Instead, a massive crowd of Norwegian fans surged forward, having tracked his flight.
"Theo! Oh my god, sign this please!"
"Theo, welcome home! Can we get a selfie?"
The terminal echoed with cheers.
Despite the late hour and his crushing fatigue, Theodore didn't brush them off.
He spent nearly an hour signing jerseys, posing for photos, and chatting with the locals who were incredibly proud of their national hero.
He finally escaped the airport to the sound of cheering fans and climbed into a waiting car.
By the time he pulled into the driveway of his family home, it was past 2:00 AM.
He was dead on his feet.
He bypassed the bathroom, collapsed onto his bed fully clothed, and instantly fell into a deep sleep.
He didn't stir until noon the next day.
Knock, knock, knock!
"Theo? Are you finally awake? Come out and have lunch!"
His mother's voice, Marianne, gently pulled him from his slumber.
Theodore groaned, stretched his aching muscles, and finally dragged himself out of bed.
After a quick, revitalizing shower, he headed out to the living room.
His father, Dongguo, was lounging in his favorite armchair, peering over the top of a Norwegian newspaper.
As Theodore walked in, Dongguo lowered the paper, his eyes wide.
"Theo," Dongguo started, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "I'm reading the sports pages here... is it true? Have you actually signed for Real Madrid?"
Theodore grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite, nodding casually. "Yeah, it's done. Starting next season, I'll be living in Spain."
Marianne bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
"Madrid! Oh, that's wonderful. The weather is so much nicer than England, much warmer and I hear the tapas are delicious!"
"It is," Theodore agreed, sitting down at the kitchen island. "The climate is perfect. Actually, I was thinking... how about I buy you guys a house in Madrid? You could move out there, retire in the sun."
Dongguo practically jumped out of his armchair, waving his hands frantically. "Absolutely not! No, no, no. Your mother and I are perfectly happy right here in Norway. We have our friends, our routine. We're used to the cold!"
He frowned, looking concerned. "Besides, buying a house is a massive expense! You've just moved to a new country. You need to be careful with your money, Theo. Keep it for your own future."
Marianne nodded in agreement, setting a plate of food down in front of him.
"Your father is right. Speaking of which, where are you going to live? Are you staying in a club apartment, or..."
"I've already bought a place," Theodore answered before taking a bite of chicken. "A three-story villa in La Finca. It's got plenty of guest rooms. Whenever you guys want a vacation, just fly down. It's ready for you."
Dongguo and Marianne stared at him, forks suspended mid-air.
"Another villa?" Dongguo sputtered. "Did... did you sell the house in Birmingham to pay for it?"
"No, I kept the Birmingham house," Theodore said nonchalantly. "The new place in Madrid was only eight million euros. It wasn't a big deal."
Silence descended upon the kitchen.
Dongguo slowly lowered his newspaper onto the table.
He looked at his eighteen-year-old son as if he had grown a second head.
"Theodore," Dongguo said, his voice trembling slightly. "Just... tell your old man the truth. How much money do you actually have right now?"
Theodore took a sip of water, doing some quick mental math.
"Liquid cash? Probably around 300 hundred million euros."
Dongguo's eyes rolled back in his head, and he swayed dangerously on his feet.
Marianne gasped, lunging forward to grab her husband's arm to keep him from collapsing.
"A-Ah! Th-three hundred?!" Huang shrieked.
"Yeah," Theodore replied calmly, unfazed by their shock. "Real Madrid paid a 20 million euro signing bonus just to get me to agree to the contract. Add that to the roughly 300 million I have saved from my Aston Villa salary and the endorsement deals Jonathan set up. It's around 300 million. And honestly, now that I'm at Madrid, the commercial deals are going to multiply."