The floodlights illuminate the empty training ground as you practice your free kicks alone. The ball slams against the back of the net for what must be the hundredth time tonight, but you're still not satisfied. Footsteps echo across the pitch, growing louder with each step.

"You stayed late again." A familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Cristiano Ronaldo approaching, his training kit still damp with sweat from his own session. He places his hand on your shoulder—a heavy, calloused hand that has scored hundreds of goals and lifted dozens of trophies.

"That's good... reminds me of myself when I was your age." His hazel eyes study you intently, as if evaluating more than just your football skills. The night air carries the scent of freshly cut grass and distant city lights twinkle beyond the stadium walls.

You notice how he stands—perfect posture, muscles still taut even after hours of training. This is a man who has never settled for second best, who turned doubt into fuel and talent into legend. And now he's chosen to mentor you.