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Chapter 95: Esto no es el Real Madrid
🕑 Added 2025-07-16 15:24:29 +0000 UTCArsenal Training Base
Morning training had just broken for a short rest when Wenger called everyone over.
And by everyone, he meant the whole first-team setup — players, coaches, medical staff, and managers.
He stood at the edge of the pitch, hands behind his back, his expression unusually grave.
Kai noticed Martin Hughes standing beside him, looking decidedly uneasy.
Nobody, including Kai, really knew what was going on, but it was clear something had stirred the professor to act.
Wenger’s voice cut through the murmuring group.
“Read it. Out loud.”
Martin Hughes gave a resigned smile, stepping forward and fishing a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He cleared his throat, his voice tinged with awkwardness as he began:
“Dear Professor,
Hello. It’s Cesc.”
A ripple of surprise went through the group.
Cesc Fabregas?
Martin pressed on:
“Do you remember that morning in 2003? That day changed my life. The day you saw something in me and gave me a chance.”
“As a young academy boy, to be recognized by one of the best managers in the world… that’s when my journey began.”
“Even though it rained that day, I felt nothing but sunshine.”
“With your guidance, I became the player I am. But… I also need to say sorry. I hurt you. I hurt Arsenal.”
“I was wrong to leave the way I did. And now… I want to come home. Back to Arsenal — the only place that’s ever felt like home.”
“If you’ll have me, I promise to give everything for this club again. I don’t even want my old number back — that’s Kai’s now.”
Kai blinked at that, his mouth quirking into a faint, confused grin. Why am I even in this?
But when he glanced up, Wenger’s eyes were locked on him, sharp and serious. Kai immediately straightened and schooled his face.
Martin concluded:
“So… I hope you can forgive me.
Your student always,
Cesc Fabregas.”
Martin stepped back behind Wenger, folding his arms.
Everyone now understood what this was: an apology.
Wenger took a deliberate step forward.
“So, what do you think?”
The players exchanged glances, but no one spoke.
Wenger didn’t seem to expect an answer. His own came quickly:
“My answer… is no.”
His voice grew hard, every word deliberate.
“I reject Cesc Fabregas’s apology. I reject a player who betrayed his captaincy. I reject someone who brought shame to this club.”
Even though his tone was stern, Kai could hear the pain behind it. Wenger still cared about Fabregas — but couldn’t bring himself to forgive. Not for Arsenal’s sake.
“Arsenal does not accept apologies from traitors. He made his choice, and now he must live with it.”
The words hit home for everyone present.
Kai bowed his head slightly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Why are you looking at me when you say that…?
Wenger dismissed them back to training after that, and word of Cesc’s letter inevitably spread as gossip throughout the squad.
Still, Kai understood Wenger’s intent: to make sure no one else forgot the consequences of betrayal. No second chances. Not here.
That afternoon, Kai excused himself from training with the coaches’ blessing.
His reason was simple: driving practice.
After the season, he planned to move out of Billy’s place. Billy had been a gracious host, but the house was no longer practical — too many fans had figured out where to find him, waiting outside each morning. He needed his own space, and he needed a car to go with it.
So, a week ago, he’d applied for a British driver’s license through the DVLA, and today was his behind-the-wheel assessment.
Vermaelen had been kind enough to lend him his Audi Q7 — a simple automatic, perfect for the test.
Kai placed his temporary license on the dashboard and drove to the quiet test site.
Ten minutes later, a knock came at the passenger window.
Kai stepped out to greet a young man in a coach’s vest, who was scribbling notes on a clipboard.
“Afternoon. I’m today’s assessor — you can call me Mr. Bert or just Coach Bert,” the man said, still looking down. “Let’s get your details first. Name?”
“Le Kai,” Kai replied.
“...Kai?”
The coach finally looked up, eyes going wide.
“Arsenal’s Kai?!”
Kai rubbed his neck awkwardly.
“…Yeah.”
“My God! You came out here yourself?!”
Kai just stared at him, baffled. Why wouldn’t I?
The man shook his head in disbelief, then grinned.
“Wenger hides you too well! Do you have any idea how many of us want to talk to you? We only ever see you on match days. Here — can you sign something for me first?”
Kai gave a sheepish laugh.
“Can we… maybe finish the test first?”
The man glanced at the car, eyes lighting up.
“Ah, fair enough! Don’t worry — we’ve got plenty of time to ourselves after.”
Once back in the car, Kai fastened his seatbelt.
“Alright then, Mr. Bert. Shall we start?”
The assessor waved a hand dismissively.
“Drop the Mr. — just Bert. Or John, if you prefer.”
He leaned back, still grinning at Kai like a kid meeting his hero.
“Go ahead. But don’t think I’m going to take it easy on you. We don't want our star in an accident.”
Kai could only chuckle under his breath and shift into gear.
“Alright, Bert, I’d suggest you sit properly now — I’m about to start driving.”
“Got it!”
Bot immediately sat upright, fastening his seatbelt. But then he turned his head ninety degrees to the side… and just kept staring at Kai.
Kai shot him a look.
“Stop turning your head like that.”
Bert straightened.
But then he started sneaking sideways glances.
Kai sighed.
The assessment dragged on for over an hour.
Kai finally passed… on his third attempt.
He was certain his driving skills were fine — he’d stayed within the lines, obeyed every traffic rule..
Kai got what he came for — his driver’s license.
Bert personally handed it over with a broad grin.
“Congratulations, Kai. Wishing you good luck in all your future matches.”
“Thanks,” Kai replied warmly.
But just as they were parting ways, Bert lingered, looking a little sheepish.
“Kai… can I ask you something? Just once, selfishly?”
Kai raised an eyebrow.
“Go on.”
Bot took a deep breath, his tone suddenly serious.
“Don’t leave us.”
Kai froze for a beat, caught off guard.
He knew where this was coming from. Arsenal fans were hiding scars from losing two captains in recent years. Every transfer rumour — every whisper — sent them into a frenzy.
Chelsea had even gone so far as to publicly compliment Kai’s performances and hint at wanting to lure him away, which had sent Arsenal fans into a furious tirade on Chelsea’s website.
These days, Arsenal fans treated Kai almost possessively. Any suggestion he might leave… and they erupted.
Kai smiled faintly, shaking his head.
“Hey, man. I’m Arsenal’s No. 4. I’m not leaving you guys.”
That seemed to satisfy Bert. He handed Kai a slip of paper with his number on it.
“Here — if you ever have any driving issues, give me a call.”
Kai chuckled and pocketed it.
“Will do.”
Back at the club, he returned Vermaelen’s car and stood for a moment, admiring his new license.
Then the smile faded as a thought struck him.
He had a driver’s license now… but no car.
After a long pause, he turned to Vermaelen with a hopeful look.
“So… does the club provide cars?”
Vermaelen blinked.
“What?”
Kai rubbed the back of his neck.
“You know… Real Madrid’s sponsor gave all their players cars a while back. Don’t we have something like that?”
Vermaelen burst out laughing.
“Man, you’re on ninety grand a week. Buy yourself one!”
Kai put on his most innocent, hopeful expression.
“But… nice cars are so expensive. You sure?”
Vermaelen rolled his eyes and muttered, clearly exasperated:
“Bloody hell…”
