𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝒯𝓌𝒾𝒸ℯ ✾ 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐫𝐜 𝟏 ✿𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄✿

"A spotless bedroom
Spends quiet nights
Pilates mornings
And she's good with wine"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

I've never been one to boast about my talents or accomplishments; they've always spoken for themselves. Recognition came naturally, effortlessly—even when I didn't seek it. But when a mysterious letter unexpectedly arrived at my doorstep, everything changed.

There was something oddly deliberate about its presence, as if it had been placed there with a purpose beyond my understanding. The envelope was plain, unassuming, yet the weight of it in my hands felt significant. With careful fingers, I tore it open, my eyes scanning the contents.

The words inside seemed to leap out at me, striking with an almost eerie precision. A validation of my skills, my prowess—proof that someone had been watching, evaluating, and deeming me worthy.

The sender? None other than Ego Jinpachi.

A man whose arrogance rivaled even my own.

His reputation preceded him—ruthless, eccentric, obsessed with crafting the ultimate striker. And now, for reasons unknown, he had set his sights on me.

My lips curled into a smirk.

Interesting.

Reading between the lines, it was clear: this wasn't just an invitation—it was a concession.

Ego Jinpachi, the man who prided himself on his unshakable vision, was admitting that without me, his grand project would falter. He wouldn't say it outright, of course—his vanity wouldn't allow that—but the message was there, woven between carefully chosen words.

It was a satisfying realization, albeit not entirely unexpected. After all, I had always known my worth. I didn't need validation, least of all from someone like him. And yet, there was something amusing about the fact that, despite his ego, despite his relentless pursuit of the "ideal" striker, he had come to me.

'Well, well... let's see just how desperate you really are, Ego.'

"Asta, inform Mother Dearest that my stay in Japan will be prolonged," I instructed, my voice carrying an unmistakable air of satisfaction.

There was no need to hide it—this was a victory, after all. A silent acknowledgment of my importance, of the irrefutable fact that even the so-called masterminds of the sport couldn't afford to overlook me.

With a dutiful nod, Asta turned on her heel and retreated to make the call, leaving me alone to bask in the moment. The significance of the letter still lingered in my hands, though I already knew its contents by heart.

I took a slow sip of my tea, letting the warmth settle as I lifted a hand, signaling for the musician to begin playing. The first notes drifted through the room, delicate yet deliberate, a fitting accompaniment to the quiet triumph unfolding before me.

Ego Jinpachi had set the stage. And now, it was my turn to perform.

Though I longed to be directly involved in the project, I knew the risks. Tempting as it was to take center stage, to shape Blue Lock with my own hands, there were forces beyond even my influence.

My mother, ever formidable, ever calculating, would not tolerate any interference—especially not in matters she deemed beneath me. Her control was absolute, her expectations unwavering. And if she so much as suspected that I was entangling myself in something as volatile as Ego Jinpachi's grand experiment, the consequences would be dire.

Not just for me.

But for him as well.

Ego may have been a man of pride, but even he was not untouchable. If my mother willed it, she could crush his ambitions without so much as lifting a finger. And that, above all, made my involvement a dangerous game.

So, for now, I would wait. Observe from the shadows, shaping the narrative without ever stepping into the light.

After all, influence wasn't always about direct action.

Sometimes, the most powerful moves were the ones no one ever saw coming.

A shiver ran down my spine as the mere thought of Mother Dearest's wrath resurfaced—a memory best left untouched, buried beneath layers of careful avoidance.

There were few things in this world that truly unsettled me, but her displeasure was something I had no desire to provoke. Even now, the echoes of past warnings lingered, a silent reminder of the consequences that came with stepping beyond the boundaries she had so meticulously set.

I exhaled slowly, shaking off the thought before it could take root. Dwelling on it would serve no purpose.

Instead, I drained the last of my drink, the warmth of the liquid doing little to combat the lingering chill. With practiced ease, I gathered my belongings and rose to my feet, my movements composed, deliberate.

Outside, the limousine awaited, its sleek black exterior reflecting the city lights. The door swung open the moment I approached, a silent invitation to return to the world where I reigned unchallenged.

I slid inside, the door clicking shut behind me, sealing me off from prying eyes.

As the vehicle glided effortlessly through the city streets, a quiet anticipation settled over me. It thrummed beneath my skin, a slow, steady pulse of excitement that I did little to suppress.

Somewhere, in a sterile facility stripped of warmth and comfort, 300 hopefuls had gathered—blindly chasing a dream that would never belong to them.

And soon, reality would come crashing down upon them like an unforgiving tide.

The impending despair of those 299 boys, their carefully built aspirations crumbling into nothingness, was a spectacle I eagerly awaited. The desperation in their eyes, the bitter taste of inadequacy settling on their tongues—it would be exquisite.

Because no matter how fiercely they clung to their ambitions, no matter how much they believed they could rise above the rest, only one would survive.

And there I would be, front and center, to witness it all unfold.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎