The atmosphere was completely different from the pressure of the first team’s locker room. Here, ughter could still be heard. The shouts of the young coach and the sound of the ball hitting the crossbar provided a refreshing backdrop.

  Reinhart stood at the edge of the field, both hands in his coat pockets, his gaze sweeping over the movements of the young trainees in their practice gear.

  “That one in the middle,” Cassandra said, pointing to a curly-haired boy who was skillfully dribbling the ball through two cones with remarkable agility. “His name is Ollie Walkot. Only 16. CF. His game vision is above average for his age.”

  Reinhart nodded, his eyes not just on Ollie, but also on two other kids. A tall goalkeeper with quick reflexes, and a small but aggressive right-back. But one pyer caught his attention the most.

  He quickly jotted down three names in his notepad:

  Ollie Walkot (16) – CF, exceptional vision and control.

  Ryan Elmer (17) – GK, outstanding reflexes and communication.

  Mike Lankshear (15) – RB, strong stamina and neat short passing.

  But Reinhart said nothing. He simply observed. He recorded.

  Before turning to leave, he briefly spoke to Cassandra, “I’ll bring them up to the first team and add that kid as well.”

  Cassandra was confused about which pyer Reinhart was referring to, but she accepted it and quickly began preparing the necessary paperwork for the transfer.

  As they walked together, Reinhart gnced at Cassandra, and unexpectedly, Cassandra heard words that might be hard to hear from Reinhart's mouth.

  "Beautiful."

  It was a single word that made her face flush.

  Without thinking, Cassandra pyfully punched Reinhart, though it had little effect and only brought Reinhart back to memories of when Cassandra would punch him whenever she was embarrassed.

  As they walked toward the gate, they both noticed a teenager who had been watching the youth training. He was wearing torn clothes, covered in dirt, and appeared thin. Reinhart initially thought about walking past him but then saw the boy suddenly pick up a can near the trash. The boy was now pying with the empty drink can, as if it were a ball.

  It wasn’t just juggling; it was dancing.

  His footwork was fast yet controlled, flowing like water. The can flew, bouncing off his knee, foot, heel, shoulder, and chest before nding on the ground, only to be picked up again by his incredible instinct.

  Reinhart was frozen. Not just him—Cassandra was also in awe of the boy.

  He had never seen anything like this. Not in the academy. Not in professional matches.

  Only... in the streets.

  The boy didn’t realize he was being watched. He continued to py, a small smile on his face as if the world were watching him, though the world had long since turned its back on him. Then, a holographic screen appeared just as the boy colpsed.