Chapter 30 : Hades Huh??

The next day, Nico woke up early and went through his usual morning routine—a quick shower, breakfast, and a bit of stretching to keep his body fresh.

After finishing everything, he checked the time. It was just past 8:30 AM. He didn't have training today, so his schedule was clear for the shoot.

By 9:00 AM, a sleek black Mercedes-Maybach S600 was waiting outside the house. The driver, a well-dressed man in his late 40s, stepped out and opened the door for him.

Nico slid into the luxurious leather seats, and as the car pulled away, he leaned back, looking out the window at the passing streets of Manchester.

The Yves Saint Laurent team had gone all out for this shoot. They had booked the best photo studio in London—Spring Studios, located in the heart of Camden.

It was a place known for hosting some of the most high-profile fashion shoots in the world, used by top brands and celebrities alike. Nico had never been to a professional photoshoot before, but he had heard of Spring Studios from Maria, who was into modeling.

As the car sped down the motorway towards London, he couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and amusement.

This wasn't something he had ever imagined doing when he dreamed of becoming a footballer.

_________________

As Nico stepped into Spring Studios, he was immediately met with the hustle and bustle of a high-end fashion shoot. The air buzzed with activity—staff members were adjusting massive softbox lights, setting up cameras on tripods, and arranging different backdrops.

Some were discussing angles and lighting, while others were going through wardrobe selections. The whole place had a sleek, modern aesthetic, with polished floors and high ceilings, making it feel like the epicenter of the fashion world.

Just as Nico was taking it all in, Jorge walked up to him with a big grin, patting his back. "Ah, there you are! Come, there's someone I want you to meet."

Nico followed him a few steps before Jorge gestured toward a tall, distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair. His presence commanded attention, and he had a certain effortless confidence about him.

"Nico, meet Mario Testino," Jorge said, motioning between them.

Nico's eyebrows lifted slightly. Even though he wasn't deep into fashion, he knew who Mario Testino was—a legendary photographer, one of the best in the industry, having worked with the biggest celebrities and fashion brands in the world.

Testino extended his hand with a warm smile. "Nico, it's a pleasure. I've seen your pictures everywhere, but I must say, you look even better in person."

Nico chuckled and shook his hand. "Thank you. It's an honor to work with you."

Testino grinned. "Likewise. Yves Saint Laurent doesn't just pick anyone, you know? You have a rare look—sharp yet effortless. You carry yourself well, and that's going to translate beautifully on camera."

Nico nodded, still adjusting to the surreal nature of all this. Just a few months ago, he was simply focused on football. Now, he was standing in one of the most prestigious studios in London, about to be photographed by one of the greatest fashion photographers of all time.

_____________

Then, Nico was guided to the styling and grooming area, a sleek section of the studio lined with mirrors surrounded by bright vanity lights.

A hairstylist immediately got to work, running their hands through his hair, adjusting and styling it to perfection. Another makeup artist carefully applied light makeup—not to change his features, but to enhance them under the intense studio lighting.

"You've got great bone structure," the makeup artist commented as they worked, blending a bit of powder on his skin. "We don't need to do much. Just a little touch-up for the cameras."

Once they were done, a stylist handed him his first outfit for the shoot—a sleek, tailored black suit with Saint Laurent's signature sharp cuts and elegant design. The fabric felt luxurious under his fingers as he put it on.

Jorge, standing nearby, nodded in approval. "Now you really look the part."

Mario Testino, now standing by the set, clapped his hands together. "Alright, Nico—let's get started."

Mario Testino stood behind the camera, his sharp eyes studying Nico as he adjusted the lens. "Alright, Nico," he called out, his voice smooth but authoritative. "Let's start simple. Give me a natural stance—hands in pockets, chin slightly up. I want to see confidence but not arrogance."

Nico nodded, settling into position. The bright studio lights flashed as the camera captured the first few shots. Around him, assistants moved swiftly, adjusting the lights to create different moods—sometimes a deep, moody black, other times a sharp cool-toned blue, and even a dramatic red backdrop that made his emerald-green eyes pop.

"Perfect!" Mario exclaimed. "Now, turn slightly to your left, one hand in your pocket, but this time, tilt your head down a little—like you're thinking about something serious."

Nico followed the direction, and another burst of camera clicks filled the studio.

After a series of shots in the first tailored black suit, the stylists approached him again. "Time for the next outfit," one of them said, leading him back to the dressing area.

Nico changed into a luxurious Saint Laurent leather jacket, paired with a slim-fit turtleneck and designer boots. The moment he stepped back onto the set, Mario grinned. "Ah, this is the look. You're charming yet dangerous—the kind of man who walks into a room and commands attention without saying a word. Play into that energy."

Nico smirked slightly, shifting his posture. The cameras flashed again as Mario guided him through different poses—one with his hands lightly gripping the lapels of the jacket, another with him leaning against a stool, exuding effortless confidence.

The shoot continued for several hours, with Nico switching into different outfits—some casual yet stylish, others bold and high-fashion. There was a moment where he had to pose with sunglasses, exuding a sleek, mysterious aura, and another where he sat on a leather couch, looking away from the camera as if lost in thought.

Throughout the process, Mario kept encouraging him. "You're a natural, Nico. You understand presence, and that's rare."

Jorge, watching from the side, chuckled. "Told you, he's got it."

Finally, after hours of intense shooting, Mario clapped his hands together. "That's a wrap!"

The crew applauded, and the lead stylist came over, giving Nico a pat on the back. "Well done. You're going to look incredible in these campaigns."

Nico exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he took a sip of water. It had been a long session, but strangely, he had enjoyed it. There was an art to modeling—a way to tell a story without words.

Jorge walked up, smirking. "See? You thought it'd be boring, but you killed it."

Nico chuckled. "I'll admit—it was interesting."

Mario pulled out his tablet, scrolling through the freshly captured images before stopping at one in particular. With a satisfied nod, he turned the screen toward Nico.

"Take a look at this," Mario said, a knowing smirk on his face.

Nico's gaze fell onto the image, and for a moment, he was speechless.

In the photo, he was seated on a black throne, his posture relaxed yet exuding power. The tailor-made black suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his sharp features and broad shoulders. The all-black background made it look as if he had emerged from the shadows, and with his emerald-green eyes piercing through the darkness, he looked nothing short of otherworldly.

"Jesus," Jorge muttered as he peered over Nico's shoulder. "You look like Hades himself sitting on that throne."

Mario laughed. "Exactly what I was going for! There's a certain mythical quality to you, Nico. You don't just wear the suit—you own it."

Nico studied the image closely, his own intense gaze staring back at him. It was striking, commanding, almost regal. He never really thought much about his own appearance, but seeing himself like this… he understood why Saint Laurent wanted him.

"You look stunning," the stylist chimed in. "This is going to turn heads everywhere."

Nico finally leaned back, exhaling softly. "Not bad," he admitted with a small smirk.

Jorge shook his head with a chuckle. "Understatement of the year."

Mario clapped his hands together. "This campaign is going to be legendary."

___________

As they drove back home, Nico sat in the backseat, scrolling through his phone, still thinking about the shoot. The photos were stunning, but the idea of being the face of Saint Laurent still felt surreal.

Turning to Jorge, he asked, "So, when are they planning to release the campaign?"

Jorge, who was casually checking his emails, glanced up and smirked. "Most likely when you win the Golden Boy award."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "Golden Boy?"

Jorge chuckled. "Yeah, Golden Boy. Haven't thought about it yet?"

Nico shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I know what it is, but… I just got here, man."

Jorge shook his head with a knowing grin. "Nico, listen. If you keep playing the way you are right now, that award is yours. There's simply no one under 21 in the world better than you at the moment."

Nico leaned back, staring out the window as the city lights passed by. He never played for individual awards. Football was about winning trophies as a team, about moments, about the joy of playing. But still…

Golden Boy, huh?

If he won it, he'd be following in the footsteps of legends—Messi, Rooney, Aguero, Fabregas… all players who left their mark on the game.

A small smirk formed on his lips. "We'll see."

________________

The next day, 14th September 2015, Nico was at Manchester City's training ground. The entire squad was preparing for their first Champions League match against Juventus. Pep Guardiola was already on the pitch, watching his players warm up.

After some stretching and ball drills, Pep clapped his hands, signaling everyone to gather. His expression was serious as he began explaining Juventus' defensive structure. He pointed at the tactics board, showing their 5-3-2 formation.

"They are not easy to break down," Pep started. "Look at their backline—Chiellini, Bonucci, Barzagli. Three warriors who know how to position themselves. Their full-backs, Evra and Lichtsteiner, will tuck in when defending, making it even harder to find space."

He turned to the players. "So how do we break them?" His eyes scanned the group, waiting for an answer.

David Silva spoke first. "Quick passes in tight spaces. Get in behind before they settle."

Pep nodded. "Exactly. Movement. We need to drag their defenders out of position. Nico, Kevin, David—you three will be key. Quick one-twos, through balls, and if there's space, shoot. Buffon is a legend, but not invincible."

He then turned to the defense. "Kompany, Otamendi, Fernandinho—don't let their forwards breathe. Dybala and Morata are dangerous. Press them the moment they get the ball."

Turning back to the team, Pep said, "This is our first Champions League match. We must set the tone. Show Europe that Manchester City means business."

The players nodded. Training resumed with drills focused on fast passing, rotations, and pressing—all designed to dismantle a defensive team like Juventus.

Nico, alongside Silva and De Bruyne, practiced receiving under pressure, turning quickly, and threading passes. Aguero, Sterling, and Navas worked on off-ball runs to beat the offside trap.

Kompany led the backline, ensuring they stayed compact while playing a high line. Everyone was focused, knowing how important this match was.

As training ended, Guardiola gathered them one last time. "Tomorrow, we don't just play—we dominate."

________________

Back at home, Nico was sitting on the couch with Maria, a cup of tea in his hands. The evening was calm, and the anticipation of his Champions League debut was sinking in.

Maria leaned back, resting her head on the couch. "So, how does it feel? Tomorrow, you'll finally play in the Champions League."

Nico took a sip of his tea, his emerald-green eyes reflecting the dim light of the living room. "Honestly? It feels... surreal. I've watched the Champions League since I was a kid. Now, I'm about to step onto that stage."

Maria smiled. "Well, you're not just stepping onto it. You're stepping on as Manchester City's youngest-ever player in the competition. That's huge."

Nico chuckled. "Yeah, but records don't mean much if I don't perform. Juventus won't make it easy."

Maria tilted her head. "Are you nervous?"

He paused for a moment before shaking his head. "Not really. Excited, maybe. These are the matches I live for."

Maria sighed. "You're insane. But I get it. Still, don't overthink it. Just play your game."

Nico smirked. "That's the plan."

Maria suddenly sat up straight, a playful glint in her eyes. She leaned closer to Nico, lowering her voice as if she were about to share a deep secret. 

"If you score tomorrow," she said, smirking, "I'll tell you a secret that I've been hiding from you for a while now." 

Nico raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A secret?" he asked, setting his cup down. "What kind of secret?" 

Maria shrugged, a teasing smile on her lips. "You'll have to score to find out." 

Nico chuckled, shaking his head. "You're really going to make me wait, huh?" 

Maria grinned. "Yep. So, no pressure, but you better put the ball in the net tomorrow." 

Nico leaned back, smirking. "Now, I have another reason to score."

______________