The roar of the crowd shook the heavens.
Inside the Lusail Iconic Stadium, over 88,000 people screamed, sang, and waved their flags in a storm of color and sound.
It was the World Cup Final — Portugal vs Argentina.
On one side, the last dance of football's finest. On the other, the rise of a new generation.
But it wasn't just the players everyone was talking about.
"Which team will win?"
"Forget that — which manager will conquer the world of football today?"
"Is it finally Portugal's time?"
"Or will Argentina take revenge from last time?"
The tension was unbearable. The match would begin in just twenty minutes.
The world was watching.
And I was supposed to be there.
Instead, I was lying on the pavement.
Cold. Confused.
Staring up at a sky filled with stars that didn't look familiar at all.
What… what the hell is going on?
I tried to move, but my body felt weak — like it wasn't mine.
I touched my face. My jawline. My chest. Everything felt… younger. Lighter.
Not like my old, tired self at all.
Wasn't I watching the final...? How did I get here?
Then I heard them — voices. Footsteps. A blurry group rushed toward me.
Three guys, and a girl.
"Lucas! Lucas, can you hear us?"
"He's awake!"
"Damn, what happened to him?"
"Coach, are you okay?!"
Coach?
That's when it hit me.
I wasn't just lying on the pavement.
I wasn't just in someone else's body.
I was someone else now.
A young man in his 20s.
Lucas Moreau... that's what they're calling me.
So that's who I am now?
I stayed calm and slowly opened my eyes.
"Yes… yes, I can hear you," I answered quietly. "I just… fell asleep."
The girl smiled softly, her voice gentle and reassuring.
"Don't worry, Coach. We'll win next time. Don't be sad — you gave everything."
I frowned, confused.
I didn't know what she was talking about.
First, I needed to calm myself down and figure out whose body I was in.
I took a deep breath.
"I'm fine," I said firmly. "Don't worry. You guys can go now. Please… leave me alone for a while."
They exchanged worried looks but slowly backed away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Lucas's POV
First, I needed to figure out who I was — the date, my family, everything.
I started searching my pockets and bag, pulling out every item I could find.
On the small table in front of me, I carefully laid everything out.
There was my purse, a diary, my mobile phone, and some pictures — mostly of a girl's football team.
Who are these people...?
I flipped open the diary, hoping it would hold answers.
I hit the jackpot.
This guy — Lucas, me now — liked to keep a diary.
And not just any diary.
He wrote everything about his life.
I sat down, opened it from the beginning, and started reading.
Page after page, his story unfolded — like watching someone else's memories pour into my head.
Three hours passed before I even noticed.
When I finally closed the book, I threw myself onto the sofa, exhausted.
"Ugh... three hours straight," I muttered, staring at the ceiling.
But I had learned everything.
This Lucas Moreau…
He wanted to become the greatest football manager of all time.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Hahaha… what a coincidence."
I stood up, the laughter fading into a calm, focused smile.
"Was this your doing, God?" I said to the sky.
"Fine. If that's what you want…"
I clenched my fist.
"Then I'll become the most decorated, most legendary manager the world has ever seen."
End of Chapter 1