Chapter 21: The Grey Suit's Gambit
The final whistle blew, echoing across the Abahani grounds. Rimon's team had won 4-1. Hassan was practically glowing, swarmed by a few academy kids who were suddenly curious about where this "Genjabarirghat" striker came from.
Rimon, however, felt like his brain was being scrubbed with sandpaper.
[Sync Rate: 13.4%]
[Warning: Neural Fatigue Critical. Deactivating Tactical Overlay.]
The crisp, blue-lined world vanished. The 4K resolution dropped instantly back into a hazy, emerald blur. Rimon stumbled slightly, his vision swimming as the natural sunlight felt ten times brighter than before. He felt a hand on his shoulder—steady, familiar, and grounded.
"Don't fall over yet," Mahima whispered, having navigated her way onto the pitch. "You've got company."
Rimon squinted toward the clubhouse. The man in the grey suit was walking toward them, flanked by Coach Farhan. Up close, the stranger looked like he belonged in a high-rise in Singapore rather than a football pitch in Dhaka. His eyes were cold, sharp, and lacked the passion Farhan had. He looked at Rimon like a valuable piece of real estate.
"Shoaib Bashar Rimon," the man said. His voice was smooth, polished. "I'm Kabir. I represent a sports management group with ties to the European market. I was the one in the car in Keraniganj."
Farhan looked slightly annoyed but stayed silent. Kabir continued, "Abahani is a great club, a historic club. But you? You're an anomaly. I've seen youth prospects at Benfica and Porto who don't have that spatial awareness. I don't want you to sign a standard youth contract here."
Rimon wiped sweat from his forehead, his head still pounding. "I'm just a student. I told the Coach, I'm not sure about this path."
Kabir smiled, a thin, predatory expression. "Your 'student' life ended the moment Rifat hit 'post.' You have a gift that transcends the local system. I can offer you a fast-track to a professional setup in Europe—starting with a satellite academy in Dubai. No mud. No politics. Just elite training."
Hassan, who had wandered over, gasped. "Dubai? Europe? Bhai, that's insane!"
Rimon felt the weight of everyone's gaze. Farhan was looking at the ground, clearly struggling with the fact that he might lose his best discovery to a big-money agent before he even signed him. Mahima's grip on Rimon's arm tightened. She didn't like Kabir. He could feel it in her tension.
"And what's the catch?" Rimon asked, his voice rasping.
"No catch. Just a signature. We manage your image, your career, and your future," Kabir said, pulling an iPad from his briefcase. "Think about it. Why play in the BPL for peanuts when you can be the first Bangladeshi to break into a top-tier global league?"
[Sync Rate: 13.5%]
[Analysis: Agent Kabir - Motivation: 88% Financial Gain, 12% Talent Development.]
[Recommendation: High Risk. Potential for 'Player Trafficking' loops.]
Rimon blinked. The System was warning him even through the exhaustion. Before he could respond, a motorcycle roared at the gate. A familiar figure in a Bashundhara Kings training kit skidded to a halt. Rifat.
Rifat didn't even turn off the engine. He walked straight into the circle, looking at Kabir with pure disdain.
"Don't listen to him, Rimon," Rifat said, his voice hard. "He's a vulture. He's been trying to snatch local kids for years just to sell their rights and let them rot on a bench in a third-division league in Greece."
Kabir's smile didn't falter. "Rifat. Always so protective. Aren't you supposed to be at the Kings Arena?"
"I'm exactly where I need to be," Rifat replied, standing next to Rimon. He didn't look at Rimon's face—they still didn't 'talk'—but he stood there like a wall. "Abahani is the right place for you right now, Rimon. You need a home, not a flight ticket to nowhere."
Rimon looked between the professional scout, the international agent, his rival-brother, and Mahima. His head was screaming for silence.
"I need time," Rimon said, pulling away from everyone. "I have a literature midterm on Thursday. I'm going home."
He walked away, leaving the most powerful men in Bangladesh football standing in the middle of the pitch.
Author Note:
A European agent?! 🌍 Kabir is moving fast! He's trying to sell Rimon the "International Dream" before he's even had a warm-up. But thank god for Rifat! 🏍️ Coming in like a hero to protect his friend from the vultures. Even if they don't talk, Rifat clearly has Rimon's back.
But Rimon's response is the most 'Rimon' thing ever: "I have a literature midterm." 😂 Bro really prioritized Romantic Poetry over a Dubai flight ticket! That's why he's the GOAT. 📖⚽
The System is flagging Kabir as High Risk—it looks like the "Barefoot King" isn't just a player; he's a target. How is Rimon going to handle the pressure now that the money-men are involved? Stay tuned for the next chapter! 🔥🔥