My Ultimate Gacha System-Chapter 189 - 182: Return to Routine [III]

Chapter 189: Chapter 182: Return to Routine [III]
She introduced herself professionally as Chiara, Marco’s assistant who would be managing Demien’s commercial obligations, and her role was immediately clear from how she outlined the schedule while they drove toward Milan—she would handle logistics, protect training schedules, ensure nothing interfered with his football commitments, and manage communication between brands and the club.
"The shoot is scheduled for ninety minutes maximum," she explained while scrolling through her tablet. "Adidas creative team handles everything. You’re there as talent, not for creative input. Simple positioning, natural movements, nothing complicated."
Demien nodded while watching the highway pass outside the window, and the forty-minute drive to Milan felt longer than it should have because his mind kept drifting back to training and whether his performance over the last two days had been enough to earn a spot in Saturday’s squad announcement.
The Adidas headquarters building was modern glass and steel in Milan’s business district, and when they arrived Chiara led him through the main entrance toward a dedicated photo studio on the third floor where the creative team was already setting up equipment.
The shoot itself was efficient and tightly controlled as Chiara had promised.
The brand’s creative team handled everything—lighting adjustments, camera angles, positioning instructions—and Demien understood quickly that his role was simply to stand where directed, move how they asked, and let them capture what they needed for the Solar Red boot launch campaign.
He felt awkward at first because modeling wasn’t natural to someone who’d spent eighteen years focused entirely on football, and he wasn’t sure where to place his hands or how to move naturally in front of the camera without looking stiff, and the first few shots required multiple takes because his body language read as uncomfortable rather than confident.
"Relax your shoulders," the photographer said from behind his camera. "You’re not being judged, we’re just capturing the boots. Natural stance, like you’re waiting for a corner kick."
The comparison to football helped, and after a few repetitions Demien settled into the rhythm by treating it like any other professional obligation that required focus and execution, and he let the routine carry him through the various poses and movements they needed—standing shots with the boots prominently displayed, action poses that mimicked striking the ball, close-ups of the boot design against the studio backdrop.
The boots themselves were light and pristine, completely unused with no grass stains or scuff marks, and they looked almost too perfect to actually wear in matches, and the Solar Red color was vibrant under the studio lighting in a way that would photograph well for promotional materials.
The launch was important for Adidas and for establishing Demien’s commercial profile, but standing in front of cameras never felt bigger than football itself, and by the time the photographer announced they had everything they needed, Demien was ready to leave.
Chiara confirmed the completion time—seventy-three minutes, under the scheduled ninety—and they drove back toward Bergamo while she updated him on next week’s potential obligations that would need scheduling around training.
Friday, September 30, 2022
Demien’s Apartment, Bergamo
7:34 PM
That evening back at his apartment Demien finally made the phone call he’d been putting off since the Adidas signing bonus had cleared into his account three days earlier, and he pressed his mother’s contact and waited while the phone rang twice before she answered.
"Demien! How are you, tesoro?"
"I’m good, Mum," he said, and he sat down on the couch while looking out the window at Bergamo’s evening lights. "Wanted to let you know the money came through. The signing bonus from Adidas. It’s official, everything’s handled."
There was a brief pause on the other end, and when Isabella spoke again her voice carried relief mixed with maternal concern.
"That’s wonderful, Demien. Really wonderful. Have you been resting enough? You played two matches this week, the travel must be exhausting."
The question grounded him more than the €20,000 signing bonus ever could because his mother’s priority would always be his wellbeing rather than the financial validation, and something in his chest loosened slightly at the familiar concern.
"Yeah, I’m resting," he said. "Training was lighter today because we have Fiorentina on Sunday. Just recovery work, nothing too intense."
"And you’re eating properly? Not just protein shakes?"
"Yes, Mum. The club has nutritionists. I’m eating properly."
They talked for another fifteen minutes about ordinary things—her work schedule, his apartment, whether he’d spoken to Luca recently—and the conversation felt normal in a way that commercial obligations and tactical training never could because talking to his mother reminded him that football was important but it wasn’t everything.
Friday, September 30, 2022
Demien’s Apartment, Bergamo
11:28 PM
By Friday night the week felt heavier than expected, and Demien lay in bed staring at the ceiling while his mind processed everything that had accumulated since Tuesday’s Germany match—the draw that felt like a loss, the travel back to Italy, two days of training in unfamiliar positions, the Adidas shoot, the phone call with his mother.
The weight wasn’t from pressure exactly, but from accumulation.
Training sessions where he was being shaped rather than rewarded.
Commercial obligations that validated his profile but felt secondary to football.
Positional adaptation that required learning new roles at professional intensity.
Responsibility that came with representing England and wearing Atalanta’s shirt.
Saturday’s squad announcement still waited, and Gasperini’s decision about whether to include him against Udinese would determine if the week’s work had been enough, and the uncertainty sat in his chest alongside exhaustion as sleep gradually pulled him under.
For now Demien closed his eyes knowing he was being developed rather than celebrated, and the system’s recognition of his positional adaptation meant less than Gasperini’s evaluation would tomorrow when the squad list was posted.
Being shaped, not rewarded.
Exactly what professional football looked like when you were still proving yourself at eighteen.
A/N
Hi guys sorry for the late upload. I’ve been so busy with work and outlining has been crazy. Thanks for being there