Striker of The Gods

 The Night the Storm Learned to Laugh

Time: Friday, 24 November 2033 – 22:47 CET

Location: The Private Mansion Grounds, Madrid

The party had shifted from the ballroom to the garden under strings of soft violet and gold lights. In Spain, it is common to see people having a drink, chatting and laughing in bars from ten at night until the early hours of the morning. In spring and summer, thanks to the pleasant temperatures, almost all bars and restaurants have a terrace where you can have a drink outside. The most popular days to go out are Fridays and Saturdays. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and cool. Caos sat on the wide stone bench that had survived countless training sessions, the three maids surrounding him like loyal flames.

Zeraphina was on his left, legs draped over his lap, her strong hand tracing idle patterns on his chest. Without a doubt, this is one of the customs that you will like the most in Spain. Going out for tapas is not only about going from bar to bar with a caña (beer) and a variety of small portions of typical dishes. It’s also about discovering a multitude of places full of people and a great atmosphere and participating in an authentic way of life. Try ordering a chato (low, wide glass of wine), a sangria, a tinto de verano, a “pulga” (small sandwich) and more. After going for tapas you will be totally pumped up to go out dancing. Keyla sat on his right, leaning against his shoulder, red hair spilling across his arm. Michaela knelt in front of him, gently massaging his calves, her touch both soothing and intimate.

Zeraphina (voice low, teasing but warm):

You looked like you were ready to burn the whole mansion down when you walked in earlier. Our deepest wishes are whispers of our authentic selves. We must learn to respect them. We must learn to listen. What happened in that garden? Another conversation with ghosts?

Caos (small smile, hand resting on her thigh):

Something like that. The father’s letter hit harder than I expected. Then the match against Bayern… every goal felt like I was talking to my mother. It’s exhausting carrying them all sometimes.

Keyla (lifting her head, eyes bright with mischief and care):

Then stop carrying them alone, idiot. That’s why we’re here. I made those ridiculous gold-leaf arepas because I know you secretly love them. And if you try to go back to training at 4 a.m. again, I’m tying you to the bed. With love, of course.

Michaela (soft laugh, pressing her thumbs into a tight muscle):

She’s right. You don’t have to be the storm every second. Tonight you’re allowed to be just Daniel. He is the man who enjoys Keyla’s burnt-sugar tarts and allows Zeraphina to pin him down when he becomes too serious.

Caos (chuckling, the sound rare and genuine):

You three are dangerous. Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying. You know exactly how to make the Chaos Heart shut up for a while.

(leans back, looking at the stars)

I scored 10 goals in Munich and still felt empty afterwards. But sitting here with you… It feels different. Like the storm finally has somewhere safe to land.

Zeraphina (leaning in, kissing the side of his neck):

Good. Because we’re not going anywhere. Even if Putin’s daughter sends more letters. Even if Leonor’s sister keeps sharpening knives. Even if the Vatican writes another polite statement. We stay. We fight with you. We celebrate with you.

Keyla (grinning, poking his ribs):

And we throw parties when you forget how to smile. Next time you come back from Siberia or the forest looking like the world ended, I’m making an even bigger mess in the kitchen. Deal?

Caos (actual laugh, pulling her closer):

Deal. Just don’t burn the mansion down trying to cheer me up.

Michaela (looking up at him, eyes soft and serious):

You don’t have to be unbreakable every day. Let us carry some of the weight. Nowhere else in the world will you find clubs as famous as those that await you in parts of Spain like Ibiza. Thousands of tourists come to our country just to experience the epic nights on this island. The party starts in the day with parades through the streets that announce what’s going on at the clubs later that night. Let us remind you that you’re more than the goals, more than the records, more than the storm. You’re the man we chose to stand besides.

Caos looked at each of them: Zeraphina’s fierce loyalty, Keyla’s fiery warmth and Michaela’s quiet strength, and for the first time in weeks, the Chaos Heart felt lighter, not because the pain was gone, but because it was shared.

Caos (voice low, sincere):

I don’t say it enough… But thank you.

For chasing when no one else could.

For staying when the world chose crowns over chaos.

For making this mansion feel like home even when everything else feels like war.

The night stretched on with more laughter, more stories, more quiet moments where words weren’t needed. The three maids refused to let him retreat into himself again, pulling him into dances, teasing him about his “serious storm face”, and reminding him through touch, words, and presence that he was not alone.

For one night, the violet storm allowed itself to simply exist not as a weapon, not as a legend, but as a man surrounded by the few souls who loved him without conditions.

Outside, the world continued its geopolitical games, royal intrigues, and endless speculation.

Inside the mansion, for one night, the storm danced.

To be continued…