Go Shopping.

Three days had passed since the dinner with Savio, and Rafael's mind had been occupied with both the transfer negotiations and the upcoming match against Swansea. As he reviewed his notes for the game, he couldn't shake the feeling that today was important—not just for the team, but for himself.

The system had unlocked a new trait for him after his recent conversations: Eye for Talent. It was a reminder of how much potential lay in his squad, and how little he truly needed to rely on others' judgment. Rafael knew he could spot the hidden gems himself, and today he needed that ability.

The morning had gone by quickly with a team meeting and a tactical briefing. He ran through the match plan for the game, ensuring everyone was clear on what to expect from Swansea, and also the changes he had decided on for this match.

Yesterday, Rafael had addressed the squad, making some changes to the starting XI. The core remained the same, but he felt the need to give certain players a fresh chance to prove themselves.

Casadei and Joao would be starting over Ejaria and Andy Carroll, respectively. Rafael felt that Casadei, with his calm presence and passing ability, would be the right fit for a more controlled, possession-based approach against Swansea. He also believed Joao's pace and movement would stretch Swansea's defence in ways Andy Carroll's physicality couldn't.

In the backline, after reviewing Sarr's mistake in the previous game, Rafael decided to give Holmes a shot. He wanted to keep the competition alive, and a change in personnel would keep the players on their toes. Rafael had already spoken with Sarr privately. He told him it wasn't a serious decision but one made to give other players a chance to show their worth. Sarr understood and seemed to take the message well, appreciating the honesty.

The bench largely remained the same as it had been before, with options to change things up if needed, especially in the latter stages of the match.

As Rafael stood in front of the team before the game, he could feel the excitement in the air. The players were more focused, having now adapted to his tactical approach, and the sense of belief was growing, albeit slowly.

"Alright, everyone," he started, his voice steady but carrying the weight of his conviction. "We know what we're up against today. Swansea have a strong defense, but we're not here to sit back and defend. We're going to take the game to them, control the ball, and exploit the spaces when they open up. We've made a few changes, but don't let that distract you—every one of you is here because I believe in you."

His eyes lingered on Casadei and Joao, giving them a nod of encouragement.

"Casadei, I want you to stay central and link up the play, pick those pockets of space. Joao, use your pace to stretch them, get in behind. Ince, I'm moving you to the left because you're effective there, but I need you to track back when we lose the ball. Holmes, step up today. You've earned this chance."

He paused, ensuring his message was clear. "Keep it tight at the back, play simple, and when we have possession, don't rush. This is about quality, not quantity."

The players nodded in agreement, all eyes on him. He could feel the focus, the readiness.

"Now, how many points are we taking from this game today?" Rafael asked, his voice rising with intensity.

"THREE!" they shouted back in unison, their confidence clear.

"Good. Let's go make it happen."

Rafael clapped his hands together and led the team out of the dressing room, ready for the challenge ahead.

The match against Swansea was one Rafael had been anticipating for weeks. After an impressive 5-1 victory away at Millwall, the growing sense of belief around the club made today's home game at the Madejski Stadium the perfect opportunity to prove that Reading's revival under him was no fluke. As the teams lined up for the national anthem, the stadium hummed with anticipation. The stands were packed with fans eager to see their team build on the momentum from that massive win.

The game kicked off, and right away, Reading asserted their dominance. Rafael's tactical setup had been clear from the start: control possession, exploit the space on the wings, and stifle Swansea's direct approach. And that's exactly what they did. Swansea, usually so dangerous with their aggressive, attacking style, found themselves struggling to break down the well-organized Reading defense. The midfield duo of Hendrick and Loum worked tirelessly to win the ball back and launch attacks, while Casadei, playing a more central role, dictated the tempo of the game with precision and intelligence.

Reading's early dominance paid off in the 12th minute. Casadei won possession in the middle of the pitch after a loose pass from Swansea's midfield, quickly distributing the ball to Hoilett on the right. Hoilett, with his usual pace and flair, charged forward and approached Swansea's left back as though he were about to take him on one-on-one. However, Yiadom had already started his run from deep, overlapping Hoilett and creating acres of space. Hoilett, with perfect awareness, passed the ball to Yiadom, who whipped in a fantastic cross into the box. Andy Joao, always a threat in the air, timed his leap perfectly, rising above his marker and sending the ball crashing into the back of the net.

1-0 to Reading.

The home crowd erupted. It was a goal born from the tactical fluidity Rafael had drilled into his players. Swansea tried to mount a response, but Reading's midfield continued to dominate, cutting off passing lanes and suffocating any attempts Swansea made to play through them. Casadei, particularly, was pulling the strings, using his composure to pick out precise passes while Hendrick and Loum swept up anything in midfield.

Meanwhile, Reading's defense, anchored by the steady Holmes and McIntyre, repelled any long balls Swansea attempted to play forward.

In the 33rd minute, Reading doubled their lead in stunning fashion. Ince, who had moved to the left wing, picked up the ball and drifted inside, ghosting past a couple of Swansea defenders. He spotted Casadei making a run into space and threaded a perfect pass through the defense. Casadei, aware of Joao's positioning, made a clever run to receive the ball, took one touch to control it, and then calmly slotted it past the onrushing Swansea keeper.

2-0 to Reading.

The away fans, who had been vocal throughout the match, went quiet as Reading's lead grew. Swansea, to their credit, tried to adjust by pressing higher up the field, but the composure of Reading's midfield and their quick transitions made it impossible for Swansea to recover. Rafael's tactical adjustments were paying dividends, and the team was executing them flawlessly.

The second half began, and Swansea, clearly frustrated, came out with a renewed sense of urgency. They started to press higher, but Reading continued to control the game. Casadei's influence was growing, as he dictated the tempo of the match with his brilliant passing range. His vision was proving to be too much for Swansea to handle.

Then, in the 68th minute, the match was put beyond doubt. With Swansea desperately trying to find a way back into the game, they left gaps at the back. Ince, on the left, took advantage of the space, collecting the ball and driving into the box. He looked up and saw Casadei making another intelligent run into the box, arriving perfectly to meet the ball. Ince floated the pass into his path, and Casadei took a touch before coolly finishing into the bottom corner.

3-0 to Reading.

The stadium was electric. The home fans were on their feet, chanting and clapping, and Rafael's tactical plan had worked perfectly. Reading had been dominant, and now the game was firmly in their hands. Swansea had no answers as Reading's defense remained impenetrable, with Holmes and McIntyre clearing away any loose balls and effectively neutralizing any remaining attacking threats.

As the clock ticked down, the game became more and more academic. Reading continued to control possession, playing with the confidence of a team that knew they had already won the match. Rafael made a few tactical changes, bringing on fresh legs to ensure the team saw out the game with ease.

When the final whistle blew, the scoreline read 3-0 to Reading. The players swarmed each other in celebration, knowing they had just put in one of their most complete performances of the season. The crowd was in full voice, chanting Rafael's name. The supporters knew that this was no fluke. The team had come together under their new manager, and they were a force to be reckoned with.

As the players walked off the pitch, the away fans began chanting once again, this time with even more vigor. Their chant, now a familiar and beloved sound in the stadium, rang out across the Madejski:

"His name is Rafael Moretti,

The handsome bloke from Chelsea,

Oh, we're in love already,

Rafael Moretti!"

The players clapped along with the fans, and Rafael, standing on the touchline, felt the weight of the moment. The stadium had erupted in joy, but it wasn't just the result—it was the sense of hope and belief that now coursed through the club. Rafael had turned things around, and with 28 points from 22 matches, Reading had climbed to 20th in the table. They were now just one point above the relegation zone, but more importantly, they were showing they had the quality to stay there.

Rafael looked up at one of the private stands, where the owner sat, his gaze fixed firmly on the field. As their eyes met, the owner gave him a subtle nod of approval. Rafael nodded back, the brief but meaningful exchange filling him with renewed confidence.

This was more than just a game. It was another step toward proving his vision—and his methods—were working. He had already earned the trust of the chairman, David Holloway, and now, with the owner watching, he was determined to keep the momentum going.

…

Adam Wharton sat on his couch, a cold beer in his hand, as he watched the match unfold on the TV. Reading were dominating Swansea, and it wasn't just the scoreline—there was a newfound swagger in their play. "Fucking hell, when did these lot get so good?" he muttered to himself. The fluidity, the confidence, the pace—it all seemed a world away from his current reality.

But as the camera panned to Casadei, a younger player who was starting over him, jealousy stung. Wharton clenched his jaw, watching the Italian midfielder glide across the pitch with composure and precision. "How the hell is he getting all this game time?" he thought bitterly.

Wharton had been at Blackburn for too long, stuck in the shadows, playing no more than 20 minutes a month. Every time he sat on that bench, it felt like another piece of his career was slipping away. He'd been working hard, training with everything he had, but it seemed to make no difference. His potential wasn't being realized, and the frustration was beginning to weigh on him.

With a long sigh, he leaned back into the couch, running a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the match play out in the background, when his phone suddenly rang.

It was his agent.

"You watching the match?" his agent asked, a hint of something knowing in his voice.

"The Reading one? Yeah," Wharton replied, still focused on the game but curious.

"Well, I've got something interesting for you," the agent said, voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "A little birdie told me they might be interested in you."

Wharton's heart skipped a beat, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Oh really?" His tone had shifted—curiosity and excitement replacing the frustration from earlier.

"Yeah, looks like Moretti might want you to join the project at Reading. You could get regular minutes, a real chance to prove yourself."

Wharton sat up straighter now, the possibilities racing through his mind. A chance to move, to start fresh, to be part of something that was clearly on the rise.

"Well, if that's true," Wharton said, his voice steady now with a new sense of anticipation, "tell them I'm listening."

…

The coach was cruising down the highway, the hum of the tires on the tarmac blending with the chatter of the players, who were still buzzing from their dominant 3-0 win over Swansea. Rafael sat near the front, deep in thought, eyes scanning through some notes on his tablet when Dempsey, still on his phone, interrupted the calm atmosphere.

"Bad news, Moretti," Dempsey said, his voice cutting through the din of the bus.

Rafael looked up, frowning. "What's up?" he asked, already bracing himself for something he wasn't going to like.

Dempsey turned his screen toward Rafael. The subject line of the email was enough to send a shiver down his spine:

Newcastle United – Hendrick Loan Recall Request.

Rafael let out a long, exasperated sigh, running a hand over his face. "Ah, fuck," he muttered under his breath. It was as if everything had been going too smoothly. The players were finally gelling, the tactics were clicking, and now this. The last thing he wanted was to lose one of his key players in the middle of the season.

"What are we gonna do?" Dempsey asked, the frustration clear in his voice.

Rafael leaned back in his seat, staring out the window for a moment, trying to process. Losing Hendrick would be a blow to their midfield stability, no doubt. But they had to figure something out. "Go shopping, I guess," he replied with a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

Dempsey snorted at the response, but it was clear they both knew the situation wasn't going to fix itself with a simple joke. As the coach continued its journey back to the training ground, Rafael's mind began working overtime, figuring out how they could replace Hendrick and keep the momentum rolling. One thing was for certain: they'd need to act quickly.