It was destined to be a noisy morning.
Caroline sat on the couch in Suker's ho, her expression blank with confusion.
The atmosphere inside the house was strangely bizarre, enough to make anyone feel uneasy.
Just past midnight, Kaká's agent, Paulilo, had called and woken them up. Since 3 a.m., they hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.
News of the Calciopoli scandal—also known as the "Italian match-fixing scandal"—was everywhere.
The Italian Olympic Committee had acted swiftly, imdiately taking over the Italian Football Federation to begin an investigation.
It was supposed to be a huge deal, but in the morning, when Kaká simply said, "I want to eat," they all got pulled over to Suker's place.
Caroline sat on the couch, and in front of her were Suker and Kaká's two agents.
Zorancic and Paulilo were running around like their pants were on fire, pacing anxiously.
They were frantically making phone calls, scratching their heads constantly.
Both were clearly agitated, restlessly chasing updates on the situation.
anwhile, the sll of food wafted from the kitchen.
Suker was calmly cooking, his movents slow and steady, as if the crisis didn't concern him at all.
Kaká was circling around him, occasionally helping out.
"I like this spicy sauce."
"Spicy sauce in the morning's no good—go with the salty one."
"Salty works too!"
"Cook the noodles a bit softer."
"Young guys don't need soft noodles. Save that for when you're old!"
Caroline held her head, feeling like it was about to explode, and got up to head to the kitchen.
Listening to the sounds of cooking helped calm her jittery nerves.
"Ricardo..." Caroline looked at Kaká, worried.
Kaká gave her a reassuring smile and a gentle hug. "It'll be okay."
Suker turned his head. "Don't worry. This isn't a big deal. Right now, the most important thing is breakfast. Do you want spicy or salty?"
"Spicy," Caroline instinctively replied.
"No problem!" Suker nodded imdiately.
Kaká complained, "Why can't I eat spicy?"
"You're nuts. The final's coming up. What if it sses up your stomach? Just eat salty and stop whining," Suker scolded playfully.
Kaká sulked and pointed at Suker. "See? He's always like this."
Caroline couldn't help but laugh.
Sohow, just being in the kitchen made her feel much calr.
"Plates incoming!"
Suker handed out the breakfast dishes.
Kaká and Caroline brought them to the dining table.
They also carried over sauces, broccoli, grilled salmon, and more.
Ding ding!
Suker knocked on the plates and called out, "Hey, you two with your pants on fire—ti to eat."
Zorancic and Paulilo looked over, exchanged a glance, and finally walked over.
"Any updates?"
"Nothing. No information at all. A lot of key people are being detained. I can't reach anyone."
"Sa here. I even tried calling folks at the federation, and still—no luck."
"This is a disaster."
The two agents sat down, clearly not in the mood to eat, their brows furrowed as they discussed the situation.
Ding ding!
Suker knocked on the plates again.
"Eat!" Suker said impatiently. "Not eating is incredibly rude to the person who cooked."
Zorancic retorted, "You can still eat in tis like this?"
Paulilo silently agreed.
With everything on fire, how could anyone be thinking about food?
Suker pointed next to him.
Kaká and Caroline were both silently eating their noodles, heads down, fully focused.
Paulilo let out a bitter laugh.
"Don't panic. This isn't sothing panic can fix. Once the investigation wraps up, we'll know what's going on. Worrying now won't change anything," Suker said calmly as he slurped his noodles. "It's out of our hands."
At this stage, only the Olympic Committee had stepped in.
But the deeper they dug, the bigger it got. Soon even the Committee wouldn't be able to contain it. Before long, the Italian Public Prosecutor's Office would be involved.
In short, this wasn't sothing that could be rushed.
Panic wouldn't change anything.
"Eat! And wash the dishes when you're done."
Zorancic grumbled, "You think we're in the mood to wash dishes?"
Suker glared. "Don't care. No such thing as a free al. You eat, you wash."
Kaká finally looked up. "Exactly!"
Caroline raised her hand. "I'll do the dishes."
"Nope!" Suker shook his head firmly. "Let those two do it. Give them sothing to do so they'll stop running around like headless chickens."
Zorancic and Paulilo exchanged another look and chuckled bitterly.
The two agents were scrambling, but the two main people involved looked completely unbothered.
Half an hour later, Suke rand Kaká had finished eating.
"Let's go!"
Suker got ready—they still had training today.
The two drove to AC Milan's training base.
But unlike usual, the entrance was already packed with reporters.
As soon as they saw Kaká's car, the journalists sward around.
They pounded on the windows, shouting questions.
Suker watched the chaos outside with amusent. "Hey, your car's got so serious soundproofing."
Kaká grinned, "That's why it's expensive!"
Soon, security ca out and cleared a path through the crowd.
Kaká drove into the training base.
Inside the Milan dressing room, it was unusually quiet.
Unlike the normal buzz and chatter, the atmosphere was heavy and tense.
Shevchenko stared blankly ahead, his eyes unfocused.
Gattuso sat frowning—sothing rare for the usually loud brute.
Pirlo didn't even have the mood to prank Gattuso.
Even Inzaghi arrived on ti—sothing that rarely happened.
Cafu, Nesta, Stam—all sat with their heads down.
Maldini was nowhere to be seen.
Just then, the locker room door burst open.
A loud voice echoed in.
"Good morning, boys!! What a bright and sunny day!"
Suker strolled in, beaming, walking straight to Gattuso and grabbing his shoulder like he was massaging him.
"Tusso! Cheer up! This isn't like you!"
Then he went over to Pirlo and held out his hand.
"C'mon, partner!"
Pirlo shook his head, but still gave him a high-five.
"Whoa, our charming playboy—how was last night's conquest?"
Inzaghi rolled his eyes.
Suker walked up to Shevchenko, who was still zoning out.
Suker suddenly threw a punch—bam!—straight into Sheva's stomach.
"Let's go!"
Shevchenko snapped back to reality, clutching his stomach and wincing. "You scared the hell out of !"
"Alright, alright!" Suker clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.
At that mont, Kaká placed a bag on the central table.
"Breakfast, guys! I knew none of you would've eaten this morning. Tusso's beard is practically exploding!"
Pfft!
Stam couldn't help but laugh.
Suker's description was too vivid.
Gattuso's thick beard was indeed sticking out all over—very much like Zhang Fei from the Chinese classics.
Kaká pointed at the sandwiches. "Suker made them this morning. Everyone, help yourselves."
He paused and added with a smile, "I know everyone's feeling heavy, but breakfast still matters."
Suker nodded in agreent. "Right, right! Stuff your faces—even if it's force-fed!"
Suker and Kaká handed out the sandwiches one by one.
The heavy mood in the locker room lightened a little.
While eating, Inzaghi suddenly said, "About yesterday's news—"
Suker imdiately waved it off. "Forget it. Let it be. Our top priority is the Champions League Final. Don't let Barça steamroll us. Pull yourselves together. Even if you're on the bench, the starters flop and it's your ti to shine!"
Whack!
Gattuso smacked Suker in the gut.
"Speak properly!"
Suker just grinned.
Just then, the locker room door opened again, and Maldini walked in.
"Guys—"
He stopped mid-sentence, stunned.
He had expected the room to be dead silent.
But instead, everyone was chatting, chewing on sandwiches.
When did Milan's players get this ntally strong?
"Boss! Catch!"
Suker tossed him a sandwich.
"Huh?" Maldini scrambled to catch it, staring at it in surprise. "You made this?"
Suker rolled his eyes. "Of course I did. I knew this bunch of drama queens would all be gloomy and skip breakfast. Just look at Tusso—his beard's about to blow off!"
Gattuso shouted, "I just didn't have ti to trim it! Yours is the sa!"
"I'm not growing mine. I'm no butcher."
"Brat!"
"Uggo!"
The two started bickering again, and even the quiet Pirlo began playfully teasing Gattuso.
Maldini watched this scene in a daze, a smile slowly forming on his face.
He sat next to Suker, staring at the sandwich.
"Thanks. You've done a lot."
Suker smiled. "Good that you know. Be nicer to . When are you giving the number nine shirt?"
Inzaghi yelled, "Over my dead body!"
Suker replied, "Then the captain's armband works too."
Shevchenko silently tore off a chunk of his sandwich and stuffed it in Suker's mouth in protest.
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