In PSG's training facility, players drenched in sweat were seen leaving the pitch after a grueling training session. The sun was already at its zenith, shining brilliantly. The sky was crystal clear, and cotton-candy-like clouds drifted lazily across the vast expanse.
Enrique, a rather lean individual, stood on the sidelines, wearing black sunglasses to shade his eyes from the sun.
His disheveled, greying hair dangled in the wind.
While the players were departing, Enrique walked up to an individual with an imposing frame. The individual had a towering height of 193 cm.
Perspiration snaked down his thick neck while he was drenched.
"Moretti, meet me at my office after you clean up," Enrique said.
Vittorio Moretti turned to look at Enrique with his piercing grey eyes. He had heard his command, and he wouldn't turn it down.
He nodded his head without uttering a single word.
