Chapter 266: [266] "UNANIMOUS"

The clock on the nightstand clicked to 7:15 AM.

The low and persistent sounds of Monday morning city traffic bled through the windows of the apartment. A siren wailed in the distance, its pitch bending as it navigated the congested avenues far below. It was the standard urban soundtrack, a constant that never truly stopped.

Luc lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

The sheets were violently tangled around his waist, half-pulled off the mattress. The air in the bedroom was warm. Beside him, Juliette slept soundly. Her breathing was deep. She was curled on her side, her dark hair scattered across the white pillowcases, one arm draped across his bare chest.

The sex of the previous night had left them both completely drained. It was a fantastic night. A necessary release of the tension that had been building. The adrenaline of the C?te d’Azur victory, combined with the relief of having a secure future mapped out, had culminated in hours where the rest of the world ceased to exist.

Luc shifted slightly, careful not to wake her.

He reached out with his left hand, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. The screen illuminated the dim room. He checked his notifications. Nothing critical. A few emails, and the usual barrage of social media tags he immediately swiped away.

He opened his contacts and scrolled down to the letter C.

He tapped the dial icon next to Coach Henri’s name.

Calling the manager of SC Valois at seven in the morning on a designated recovery day was not standard. Henri valued his isolation just as much as he demanded discipline from his players. But something required immediate intervention.

The line rang.

"Beaumont," Henri answered. The manager’s voice was crisp, no morning grogginess. He sounded like he had been awake for hours, likely already reviewing the Phocéen match footage.

"Morning, Coach," Luc kept his tone highly respectful, matching the manager’s strictly professional tone. "I apologize for calling this early on a recovery day. I have an issue regarding the schedule for the week."

"Is it the knee?" Henri demanded instantly, the concern overriding everything else. "Did it swell overnight?"

"No. Nothing like that," Luc assured him quickly, neutralizing the panic. "I am at one hundred percent. The issue is residential."

Henri remained silent for two seconds, processing the shift in topic. "Explain."

"I am relocating," Luc stated clearly. "I am moving out of the apartment and into a property in the woods. The paperwork cleared yesterday and everything. I need to pack up today and move tomorrow."

"You are moving houses six days before we play Stade Phocéen," Henri repeated. The disapproval in the manager’s tone was heavy. "That is an unnecessary distraction, Luc. You should be resting. You should be locked in."

"I’m always locked in, Coach," Luc countered smoothly, keeping his voice humble. "That is exactly why I am moving. The city is too loud. The distractions of living here are bleeding into my recovery time. This new property eliminates all of that. It is isolated. I need to get it done now so I don’t spend the rest of the season dealing with this."

He paused, letting the reasoning settle before making the actual request.

"I am asking you to push the return to training," Luc requested. "Instead of putting us on the grass tomorrow morning, I am asking if you can push the session to Wednesday morning. It gives me today to pack, and tomorrow to move and unpack. By Wednesday, I am settled. No distractions. Total focus for Phocéen."

The line went silent again. Luc could hear the faint scratching of a pen on paper in the background. Henri was adjusting something, maybe calculating the impact of a delayed return.

"I do not manage those kind of things, Beaumont," Henri finally said. "My jurisdiction is the pitch. If we delay until Wednesday, the tactical sessions will be condensed. The physical load will be heavier to compensate for the lost day."

"I understand," Luc said.

"However," Henri continued, the rigid edge softening just a fraction, "the squad ran themselves to the point of exhaustion yesterday. Gabriel Assis and Kévin Aubert covered more ground than they have all season. An extra twenty-four hours of rest is not detrimental to them."

Luc waited. He knew better than to interrupt Henri when the manager was talking himself into a decision.

"I will not make this decision myself just to accommodate you," Henri stated. "You are the captain. You ask your teammates. You put it to the squad. If they agree to condense the workload and work harder on Wednesday instead of Tuesday, then why not. If they want the extra rest, they can have it. But if they say no, you are on the pitch at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, regardless."

"Understood, Coach. Thank you," Luc replied genuinely.

"Send me the final verdict within the hour," Henri ordered. The line clicked.

Luc lowered the phone. He opened his messages and navigated to the chat titled "Valois First Team". The group chat was usually reserved for posting scheduling updates or sending highly inappropriate memes, but today, it served one of its first vital functions.

Luc began typing.

Luc Beaumont:Morning. Spoke to Henri. I have a personal issue and requested to push our return to training from Tuesday morning to Wednesday morning. Henri said the decision belongs to the squad. If we push to Wednesday, the tactical sessions will be condensed and brutal to make up for the lost day. If you want the extra 24 hours of rest after yesterday’s shift, vote yes. If you want to stick to the schedule, vote no. Majority rules.

He hit send.

He didn’t have to wait long. Professional footballers operating on the morning after a grueling away fixture were universally glued to their phones while lying in bed.

The first reply came through in less than thirty seconds.

Cillian Doyle:If you make me run tomorrow, I will break your other knee. Yes. Obviously yes. I can’t feel my hamstrings.

Gabriel Assis:My legs are still in C?te d’Azur. I vote yes. Give me the extra day.

Amadou Fall:Yes. We earned the rest. Wednesday is fine.

Kévin Aubert:Please god yes.

Klaus Becker:Rest is needed for recovery. Condensed sessions are manageable if focus is retained. Wednesday is approved.

Luc watched the responses roll in. It was unanimous. Nobody in the starting eleven possessed the desire to look at a football pitch on Tuesday morning. The results of Henri’s asymmetrical defensive system had drained their reserves.

Then, a perfectly punctuated message appeared.

Hugo Blanc:We benefit significantly from an additional twenty-four hours of rest, man. I am also relocating my belongings today. Coordinating the physical exertion of a move with a training session is crazy. Wednesday is logical. I vote yes.

Luc smiled. He navigated back to Henri’s contact and sent a brief text confirming the squad’s unanimous vote. The schedule was officially altered. He had his extended window before training.

Beside him, Juliette groaned quietly.

She shifted, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms above her head. The white sheets slipped down, exposing her collarbones. She blinked against the morning light filtering through the blinds, her eyes narrowing as she adjusted to the brightness.