Devil’s Music

In Shenley, Hertfordshire, close to London, England, where Arsenal FC's youth team uses the field as their home stadium, the youth development director, Andris Jonker, was a young coach born in 1962. He had been recognized for his abilities as the senior coach, having held the baton at MVV Maastricht, and was appointed as the senior coach at Bayern Munich, the strongest team in the Bundesliga, thanks to his connections with coach Louis van Gaal during his time at FC Barcelona. He had served as the acting coach for the remainder of the 2003/2004 season after Louis van Gaal was dismissed.

With slightly long brown hair and dressed in a tracksuit, Andris widened his eyes as he took a call in his office.

"Yes? The coach is coming to visit in person?"

Andris stood up hastily, ended the call, and switched to the intercom.

"Ah, Steve? It's me. Coach Arsène Wenger is coming to Shenley personally, so please pay extra attention to the training. We don't want to give the grumpy coach any reason to pick on us. Yes, thank you."

After hanging up the intercom, Andris shook his head as he looked at Arsenal FC's league performance on his laptop screen.

"Phew, hanging on to fourth place in the league this year seems tough. The only thing to hope for might be the FA Cup, especially since we'll face FC Barcelona in the Round of 16 of the Champions League. It seems like he's coming to check on the second team to validate their skills before swapping them into the Champions League and Premier League."

Pondering over the youth team player reports on his laptop, Andris received a call through the intercom at the entrance and went to the stadium entrance. Seeing a bright orange Lamborghini Aventador parked in the distance, Andris chuckled to himself.

"When will I ever get to drive something like that as the first-team coach... But, he's alone?"

Spotting coach Arsène Wenger alighting from the car alone, Andris quickly approached the parking area.

"Coach, you've arrived?"

"Oh, Andris. It's been a while."

Arsène Wenger raised his arms to lightly embrace Andris, casually placing a hand on his shoulder as they walked towards the club.

"So, have you eaten? Any difficulties lately?"

"Yes, what difficulties could there be? Just training as per the manual, nothing much else, haha."

"Hehe, being on the front lines of coaching before, developing a youth program like this might seem tedious. But please, do take care, the future of Arsenal FC is in your hands."

"Haha, how could I not? Let's go inside."

Arsenal FC's home stadium, Emirates Stadium, was far superior to the poor facilities of Shenley Stadium. Arsène Wenger stood in the second-floor spectator area, arms crossed, looking down at the young players sweating out fitness training. Since flexibility and balance were crucial physical elements for young players, Andris preferred training akin to yoga over direct football skills, so the players spent over half their day in such training sessions. Although no visible results had emerged yet, the club officials agreed with Andris's training methods, and thus, Arsenal FC's youth team was digesting his physical program that day.

Sitting on the floor stretching their legs, the players caught Arsène Wenger's attention.

"See any promising lads?"

Andris, who had joined Wenger with arms crossed, shook his head.

"There are promising ones, but they're still too young. Even if we tried, FIFA wouldn't allow such young players to be pushed up."

"None among the age-eligible players seem suitable?"

"Yes, some could handle the second team, but none seem ready for the first team yet."

Arsène Wenger sighed, shaking his head, prompting Andris to ask softly.

"Is it because of the Champions League?"

"Yes, it's the winter season and the players are exhausted. Add the Champions League and FA Cup to that, and we're seeing physical issues. If left unchecked, injuries will soon follow."

"Any players looking particularly at risk?"

"Well, the faster ones, generally. Being fast means they're smaller and more agile, hence less physically robust. When clashing with the bigger EPL defenders using brute force, injuries are bound to happen."

"The fast players would be Alexis Sanchez, Theo Walcott, and Danny Welbeck then."

"Yes, and Petr Cech isn't doing well either. He's thirty-six, retiring wouldn't be surprising at his age."

"What about goalkeeper resources? David Ospina is there, isn't he?"

"Yes, David's a good goalkeeper, but he lacks the stability that Cech provides, having had an incredible career as Chelsea's goalkeeper. The defense is more stable in matches Cech plays."

"That makes sense; the core of a defense is a seasoned goalkeeper's precise commands. Have you visited the second team yet?"

Arsène

 Wenger grimaced, sitting down on the blue chairs in the spectator section.

"Yes, I visited Underhill yesterday, but the three guys Neil Banfield recommended were all lacking. It might be a few years before they're ready, but right now, they aren't viable options."

Andris sat beside him, asking.

"Is there pressure from the front office?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Since we keep ending the season in fourth place, it seems the management doesn't care unless it's a win or a runner-up position. It's tough."

"But didn't you win the FA Cup last year?"

Arsène Wenger gave a bitter smile.

"That's true. But even the FA Cup isn't considered a significant career achievement by other clubs' management unless it's part of a double or a treble win."

"Being an FA Cup winner is still a huge deal, though. Being a first-team coach must be tough."

Arsène Wenger frowned, crossing his legs.

"The funny thing is, they're changing the anthem too. Oh, they'll still use the old one, but they're thinking of adding another."

Andris tilted his head, puzzled.

"What's so funny about that? It's just one more anthem among many."

Arsène Wenger rubbed his head, annoyed.

"It's problematic because they're spending a huge amount of money on it. With that money, they could buy two more promising players!"

"Really? How much are they spending on an anthem that could buy two prospects?"

Leaning back, Arsène Wenger sighed.

"Do you listen to rock music?"

"Haha, who in Britain doesn't listen to rock music?"

"Hehe, aren't you Dutch?"

"Having lived in England for a few years, I guess I'm getting used to it, haha."

"Hehe, right. Anyway, they're getting a song from a rock band called Montana."

"What!? You mean Fury?"

Andris looked shocked, and Arsène Wenger eyed him up and down.

"You know it?"

"Of course! It's the most talked-about music right now!"

"Well, that explains the cost."

Arsène Wenger casually rested his legs on the seat in front of him, prompting Andris to ask.

"They're acquiring that song?"

"Yep, there's another one too."

"Two songs? How much are they paying for both?"

"Luckily, they're getting one for free, some young musician named Kay or something said so."

"Wow, Coach, saying 'Kay or something' in public might get you stoned. She's a musician with a massive fanbase."

Arsène Wenger chuckled, waving his hand dismissively.

"Anyway, I'm not interested. Wait a moment."

Pulling out a vibrating phone from his pocket, Arsène Wenger raised a hand to excuse himself before taking the call.

"Yes, what's up?"

"What? The music's arrived? Fine, I'm not interested. Let the front office handle it. Hang up."

Arsène Wenger abruptly ended the call, his face showing irritation.

"They're not thinking about enhancing the team, just music! What can music do?"

Andris spoke subtly, glancing around.

"But this issue... Since our club doesn't have an owner and Arsenal Holdings is the owner, it must be pushed by the main shareholder, Stan Kroenke, right?"

Arsène Wenger shook his head.

"No, that fellow is only interested in results, not anything else. This is driven by Alisher Usmanov."

"The second-largest shareholder?"

"Yes, EPL is done for. We have a stadium in the heart of England named after Emirates Airlines thanks to a sponsorship, and the second-largest shareholder is a Russian billionaire. Is this still an English league?"

"Haha, but Coach, you're from France, aren't you?"

"It's different for a coach or player, but a league belonging to England being sponsored by another country doesn't sit right with me. Anyway, forget about the music and focus on developing the youth players."

"Understood."

**

In a famous long-lived village in Abkhazia, Georgia.

This small village, which centers around livestock and yogurt production, is considered a global symbol of longevity to the extent that a famous Korean yogurt company has drawn Georgia's map on their yogurt packaging. Gregory, holding a few skewers of well-cooked Georgian mtsvadi and a bottle of Georgia's pride, house wine, was surprised to find Kiska sitting on the sofa watching TV as he placed the drinks and snacks on the side table.

Seeing Kiska's expressionless face watching the TV, Gregory asked in surprise.

"Kiska? Why are you watching TV? You don't like TV, and it's a soccer game at that."

Kiska glanced at Gregory coldly before turning her gaze back to the TV, prompting Gregory to sit beside her and laugh weakly as he reached for a plate of mtsvadi before the soccer game started.

Suddenly, Kiska leaned in and pecked her father on the cheek, leaving Gregory touching his cheek

 in surprise and then breaking into a bright smile.

"Kiska, did you give daddy a kiss? Are you not mad anymore?"

Kiska turned her gaze back to the TV and spoke indifferently.

"No, Kay said if I kiss daddy twice a day for the next 200 nights, she'll come to see me. She said she'll call to check, so when she does, you have to tell her I'm doing well. Got it?"

Rubbing his cheek and smiling joyfully, Gregory nodded with a hollow laugh.

"Haha, whatever the reason, getting a kiss from my daughter feels like I could fly! Hehe"

As the soccer broadcast was about to start, Kiska's chubby cheeks turned slightly red.

Two weeks later at Heathrow Airport in London, England.

Having arrived after a long flight, Byung-jun, Kevin, Shizuka, and Geon, who were invited by Arsenal FC, appeared at the airport looking slightly fatigued, causing a stir at the immigration desk. This was due to the excitement of the airport staff seeing Geon and Kevin, currently the hottest musicians in the UK, even though the influence of Liverpool Sound City had not yet dissipated. However, as is typical for a major international airport frequented by numerous musicians, the situation soon settled down, and Byung-jun, through an employee-only entrance inaccessible to the public, stepped outside to the parking lot and stretched, taking a deep breath of fresh air before lighting a long-awaited cigarette. While looking around, Byung-jun spotted a smoking booth a short distance away and told his companions to wait while he headed there with his phone.

Byung-jun entered the empty smoking room, given it was an employee-only access, and lit his cigarette. Having not smoked for many hours, Byung-jun deeply inhaled the cigarette smoke, causing him to sway slightly from dizziness. However, he regained his composure when he answered the ongoing call.

"Ah... Hello, this is Lee Byung-jun from Fantagio."

A cheerful male voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Ah, have you arrived? I'm currently waiting at the international terminal."

"Yes, thanks to the airport's arrangements, I'm at the employee-only parking area."

"Oh, I see. Our team players often use that spot. Please wait a moment; I'll come to pick you up in about 10 minutes."

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

After ending the call, Byung-jun, feeling dizzy, sat down on a chair in the smoking room and blew smoke rings from his mouth before sitting down. Through the glass smoking booth, Byung-jun, with droopy eyes from the smoke, turned his head toward the glass door and jumped in surprise.

"Whoa! You scared me!"

Seeing Kevin pressing his face against the glass door and puffing air, Byung-jun yelled out in shock, causing Kevin to laugh and point him out to Shizuka, who was sitting on a large suitcase, covering her mouth with laughter. Next to her, Geon, sitting with his legs crossed on his own suitcase, let out a chuckle. Byung-jun, with fire in his eyes, put out his cigarette and opened the door to the smoking booth. As Kevin pretended to flee, Byung-jun shouted.

"Stop! Quit the jokes! An employee is coming to pick us up in 10 minutes, so just wait quietly."

Kevin shrugged and replied.

"If you speak to me more comfortably, I'll stay quiet too."

Byung-jun raised an eyebrow at Shizuka and Geon. Since he hadn't been speaking casually to Kevin alone, Byung-jun looked back at him with one eyebrow cocked.

"You might regret that."

Kevin clapped his hands playfully.

"Regret? Not at all, manager!"

Geon and Byung-jun exchanged knowing glances and mischievous smiles.

"Alright, I'll treat you more comfortably from now on."

"Wow! Finally! Thank you, manager!"

As Kevin rejoiced, Geon smiled knowingly at Byung-jun, who gestured for Kevin to wait a bit longer.

"I have a few more minutes, so I'm going to smoke another one. Shizuka, stay back a bit—oh, but not too far."

Byung-jun's comment was met with a smirk from Geon.

"They must have really made one heck of a smoking booth here, huh? I don't smell the cigarette at all; I'll just stay here then."

"Yeah, go ahead."

Byung-jun disappeared back into the smoking booth, and soon after, Kevin spotted a sky-blue Rolls Royce limousine entering the parking lot.

"Wow, look at that car. How much do you think that costs?"

Shizuka also admired the car.

"I've never seen a sky-blue Rolls Royce before. Who drives those, I wonder?"

Kevin raised his hand to his forehead and scrutinized the car more closely.

"Probably oil tycoons, or maybe princes and princesses."

As the Rolls Royce approached the smoking booth, Kevin, worried that he might be in the way of the expensive car, quickly moved his suitcase to clear the path. The car smoothly came to a stop next to Geon, who was still sitting on his suitcase. Geon leaned slightly to look through the window as it rolled down, revealing a young man with short blonde hair smiling at him.

"Hello, Kay!"

Geon, thinking he was greeting a fan, smiled and waved back.

"Hello."

The blonde man stepped out of the car and extended his hand to Geon.

"I'm Terry Bannables from Arsenal

 FC's front office. Mr. Alisher Usmanov asked me to pick you up."

Realizing that he was an Arsenal employee, Geon stood up and shook his hand.

"Oh, I see. Sorry about that, I'm Kay."

Terry grinned broadly and held Geon's hand firmly.

"Haha! I know, this is Kevin, and this lovely lady is Ms. Shizuka Miyawaki. But where is Mr. Lee?"

"There he is! You've come earlier than I expected."

Byung-jun, having seen the car stop outside the glass door while smoking, stepped out of the smoking booth a step late and extended his hand in greeting. After exchanging greetings, Terry opened the rear door of the Rolls Royce.

"Please, get in. Mr. Usmanov is waiting."

The group loaded their luggage into the trunk and climbed into the back seat of the limousine, with Kevin being the first to shout.

"Whoa! There's a fridge in here! And a TV, wow! And there's even a toilet under the back seat!"

As Kevin exclaimed and explored the car, he suddenly clutched his head in pain after being hit on the back of his head.

"Ouch! Who was that?"

Tears welling up from the pain, Kevin turned around to see Byung-jun grinning with his fist still raised.

"Asked to be treated comfortably, did you? Heh heh."

"Uh…manager?"

"I always say, if we're close, we communicate with our bodies. You asked for it, so don't regret it. And just so you know, no take-backs."

Kevin, looking frightened, slowly moved closer to Geon, and as he felt Geon's back against his, he whispered.

"Has the manager always been like this?"

Geon chuckled and nodded.

"Yep, that's just how he is. He does that to me too, so now you're really in for it. Ha ha!"

As Kevin looked nervously at Byung-jun and pouted, Shizuka burst into laughter. Terry, watching the four through the rearview mirror, spoke.

"We're heading to Mr. Usmanov's mansion in Prestbury, north of London. You'll be staying at his mansion during your time in the UK."

Byung-jun simply responded as the car started moving. Geon, checking Terry's reaction, asked in a whisper.

"Byung-jun hyung, what does Mr. Alisher Usmanov do?"

Byung-jun paused to recall, then pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped through it.

"Hmm…Arsenal isn't owned by a single owner but operated as a corporate entity. The majority shareholder is Stan Kroenke, and his competitor, the second-largest shareholder, is Alisher Usmanov from Uzbekistan, a Russian billionaire. According to Forbes in 2010, he's among the world's top 100 wealthiest, with a total asset value of $7.2 billion."

Overhearing this, Kevin blurted out a bit too loudly.

"What! $7.2 billion?"

Byung-jun quickly covered Kevin's mouth and glanced at Terry.

"Keep it down, you clueless guy."

"Mmph, mmph!!"

Kevin raised his hands in a gesture of compliance, and Byung-jun wiped his hand on Kevin's clothes, grimacing. Geon smirked and said.

"But why would such a person call us? Isn't it usual for club matters to be handled through a hotel provided by the club?"

Byung-jun wiped Kevin's saliva-stained hand on his jeans and replied.

"Who knows, having a relationship with a billionaire can't be bad, so just go with it. But it's strange that it's Alisher Usmanov and not Stan Kroenke, the majority shareholder. We'll see when we get there."

As they drove through the city and into the countryside of England, they passed several lavish mansions. Kevin, pointing to an especially opulent one with a swimming pool, whistled out the window.

"Wow! What a fantastic house, I'd love to live in a place like that."

Hearing Kevin's exclamation, Terry laughed and said.

"That's the home of Manchester United's Wayne Rooney, Kevin."

"What! Wayne Rooney's house? That one? Wow!!"

At the mention of Wayne Rooney, even the usually composed Geon perked up and pressed against the window. Excited, Kevin turned to Shizuka and shouted.

"Shizuka! You know who Wayne Rooney is, right?"

Shizuka, with uncharacteristic confidence, placed her hands on her hips.

"I've studied a bit too! Wayne Rooney, the forward for Manchester United and striker for the England national team."

"Wow! You really did study, for real."

"Hehe, now I can join in on the soccer talks too,

 I've been watching soccer every day for the past two weeks, hehe."

As Shizuka grinned prettily and made a 'V' sign, Kevin and Geon laughed. Looking out the window as the car slowed down, they saw an estate three times the size of Wayne Rooney's in front of them. A chubby man with gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in riding attire, stood outside as Terry quickly got out of the car.

"Mr. Alisher Usmanov, I have brought Mr. Kay and his party."

"Ha ha, thank you. You've done well."

Byung-jun was the first to step out, followed by Shizuka, Kevin, and Geon, as Alisher Usmanov greeted them with open arms.

"Ha ha, welcome to my home. Greg has been bragging about his potential son-in-law, Kay—it's nice to see you in person, and you're even more handsome than on TV! Ha ha!"

Everyone's gaze fixed on Geon, who, stunned, pointed to himself and stammered.

"Me? A potential son-in-law?"

The imposing figure of Alisher Usmanov chuckled as he placed a hand on Geon's shoulder and gestured forward.

"Ha ha, let's go inside and talk, it's still chilly out here."

As they walked toward the mansion, Shizuka bit her lip quietly, watching Geon's back disappear into the grand estate.