Mystic and Alfred walked out and headed straight for his hover car, the moment they got in, Alfred — who had been quietly holding back his thoughts finally spoke up.
"Why did you do that? You had that coach in a chokehold, you could've squeezed some money out of him even if you didn't want to fight for Adekunle anymore," he said, his tone laced with frustration.
"You didn't just drop the fight for the player, you threw away the chance to gain anything from losing such a great asset, all for what? An exhibition match? We don't even have players yet," Alfred continued, clearly concerned and struggling to understand Mystic's reasoning.
At first, he'd thought it wise to let Mystic take charge of the club his own way, give him room to get a feel for things.
But now it seemed to Alfred like Mystic didn't fully grasp what he was doing. He'd heard everything Mystic said in that office, but to him, it felt like the wrong move.
If it were up to Alfred, he would've cut a deal, gotten compensation for the Dark Elites' loss, and used that money not just to sign experienced players, but to immediately jump-start the club back into contention.
He didn't believe some raw, inexperienced kids were what the club needed at a time like this.
Right now, they needed to make a statement, especially after the death of their last owner, to show their rivals they weren't weakened.
But all Mystic did was sit there, and let him rant about what he thought was best for the club passionately, and then smirk as if it didn't matter.
Mystic knew he needed someone like Alfred in these difficult times, if not for football decisions, then to help navigate the business side.
But when it came to picking the team, Mystic felt that was his call now, and only he could decide what kind of players would wear the Dark Elites' badge moving forward.
"You worry too much, Uncle. You're forgetting that the coach isn't the top of the chain, he's just a pawn, there's always someone above him pulling the strings, and that's the one responsible for the poaching. I just wanted to see if that player still had any lingering loyalty to the club, since my old man was the one who helped him get where he is today." Mystic paused for a moment as he spoke about his father, taking a slow, steady breath before continuing.
"But the moment I looked into that idiot's eyes and he laughed at my question, I knew what he was – a leech, and someone like that? I want no ties with him. And while I was at it, I read through his contract details. We won't get a transfer fee after all that has happened, but according to league regulations, he'll be penalized and miss the opening stages of the Street Cup."
Alfred blinked, surprised.
"But you said you wouldn't pursue the matter."
Mystic grinned.
"I said I wouldn't fight for his transfer or try to drag him back, or even get a fee. I never said I wouldn't be petty in my own way."
He leaned in a little, eyes gleaming.
"And you're going to help me get in touch with the number one gangster in our area."
That sentence alone made Alfred's stomach turn, the calm, innocent-looking face Mystic wore clashing hard with the cold calculation behind his words.
"Why in the world would you want to get connected to Viper?" Alfred asked, his voice a mix of shock and curiosity.
Mystic shrugged, almost casually.
"Simple. If my info's right, my dad used to do a lot of charity work for the people of Shomolu, and as the top guy in the area, Viper must've loved him for that, free money, easy goodwill. I'm going to cash in those old favours, get an audience with him… and then hire him as unofficial staff under us."
"He'll handle the jobs we can't openly touch, get us connected to the underworld network in Shomolu, for example, he'll track down someone willing to submit proof that Adekunle hasn't paid his penalty fee. I've got no interest in dragging this to court, first because I already fired our lawyer. That bastard was also acting as an agent for most of our old players, meaning he probably had a hand in sending Adekunle out just to line his own pockets."
Mystic leaned back in his seat, a cold glint in his eyes.
"We don't have the funds to fight a court case anyway, but this way, we can punish the guy a little. Submitting a formal complaint to the Lagos state Football Federation, which will ban him from playing a few matches, and with Viper running the job behind the scenes, no one's tracing it back to us."
He smirked.
"Especially after the little drama I just staged in that coach's back room, there's no chance they'll suspect me, they'll be looking at their other rivals, assuming someone's out to sabotage their new star before the Street Cup even kicks off."
Alfred sat quietly for a moment, visibly stunned at how deep Mystic's scheme went, even if it wouldn't bring in much for the Dark Elites directly, it could cripple Bariga Young Boyz squad, and there was even a chance that they could be knocked off early in the upcoming street championship without their prized striker.
"That's… that's actually brilliant," Alfred admitted, unable to think of anything else to say.
"But what about Viper?" he asked after a pause.
"You said you wanted to hire him, but this little job hardly feels like a hire."
Mystic grinned.
"Oh, this is just the beginning, with the economy the way it is, Viper and his boys probably don't have much work lined up, but if there's one thing he's good at, it's finding people, and that's exactly the trait I plan to put to use."
"You know we don't have a scout anymore, and most of our staff disappeared the moment my old man died, so I'll be hiring Viper as our new 'scout.' He'll help me track talent and link up with some old faces." Mystic said, his tone calm as he tapped the start button beside the wheel and set the destination for home, the hover car smoothly switched into autopilot.
Alfred glanced at him, silent for a moment.
If he'd doubted Mystic's grasp of things before, now he was starting to see a dangerous edge to the young man's thinking, there were layers to his plans, one overlapping the next, and unlike his father, Mystic clearly wasn't afraid to use whatever resources he had, even if it meant offering a job to a known street thug.
What surprised Alfred more was how well Mystic seemed to understand the deeper workings of football, the rules, the loopholes, and the politics.
'He couldn't have learned all this so quickly,' Alfred thought.
Little did he know, Mystic had lived in a world much like this before, a place where he'd memorized every rule and learned how to bend them to his will, and though this world wasn't identical, the similarities were more than enough.