Transfermarkt Value Released!

On September 23, the elegant medal display stand Maël had ordered on eBay arrived.

It was a three-meter-long, two-meter-tall display stand, handmade and exquisite from every angle.

The only flaw was its price. Because of the materials and other factors, the stand cost as much as £900.

"This thing was nearly 1k?"

Gilbert helped Maël assemble it, grumbling the whole time. "Maël, you've changed. You're not that kid from the youth team anymore. You've got money now, and you've started throwing it around."

"A place to display honors should naturally be a little nicer."

Maël was still fairly particular about some things. He had his own views. "This place is rented, so I'll buy one to use for now. When I have my own house in the future and settle down somewhere, I'll buy the best one."

After they finished assembling it, he placed the two Best Player commemorative trophies he owned so far on it, then stood to the side and admired them.

What would this place look like in half a year? In a year? In three years? He was very much looking forward to that day.

"What are you thinking about?" Gilbert looked at him in surprise and asked sourly.

He didn't quite understand, and he was also a little envious and jealous.

Thinking about what it'll look like when all of this is filled with trophies. Maël thought it, but he did not say it aloud. "I just think it looks nice. You should work harder too. When you win one someday, you can put it here too."

"No."

Gilbert shook his head firmly. "I'm afraid you'll nick it from me."

"You think it's a lighter or something? Like you can just nick it whenever."

Maël complained instinctively, though Gilbert clearly did not get it.

The two watched TV for a while, then suddenly heard a knock at the door. Gilbert walked over, glanced through the peephole, and opened the door.

Mr. Joelson stood outside, holding two large boxes in his arms, as if he had something to give them.

"Long time no see."

Gilbert greeted him stiffly. In fact, they had only just seen each other at training, but they had seen less of each other in private.

"Joelson is competing for the First Assistant Coach position. Why would he still care about the two kids he left behind from his scouting days?"

Seeing him, Maël smiled and teased him, wanting to bully this old friend from after they arrived at Sheffield United. "We're already practically strangers to him."

Joelson waved helplessly and placed the two boxes on the living room table. "Transfermarkt Value has been updated. Do you know?"

"Not yet."

Maël guessed what the boxes were for and replied, "Actually, I only remembered because you mentioned it."

"What's wrapped inside here is a Value Plaque I went into the city this morning to have a craftsman make."

Joelson gestured with his hands as he introduced them. "I made a commemorative plaque with some information from after your first value increase, as a gift for you."

He had long since noticed the display stand Maël had placed in the living room, and pointed at it. "It'd fit nicely over there."

"Let me see!"

Gilbert could not hold back his curiosity and immediately went to open one. "Which one's mine?"

"This one." Joelson picked up a box and handed it to him.

Maël leaned over. He was still very curious about what Gilbert's value could be right now.

As Gilbert slowly peeled away the wrapping on the box, a poster-like plaque with a yellow background and his match photo appeared.

It looked a bit like the stat panels FIFA games later sent to major clubs. As a keepsake, it really was pretty nice.

It clearly recorded the date, birthday, value increase, club, and all the other player information. Of course, it also included the value.

"3.5 million euros?"

When Gilbert saw the price, his eyes instantly lit up. To him, this was definitely a huge number. "I'm actually worth 3.5 million euros?"

Joelson smiled as he looked at him, but there was a trace of indescribable sympathy in that smile. He kept glancing toward Maël.

When Maël saw that Gilbert was worth 3.5 million euros, he had already grown curious and started opening his own Value Plaque, sighing as he did. "This is a great gift, Mr. Joelson. Thank you very much. I'll keep it forever."

This was his first time, and no matter what, it had commemorative significance.

He slowly took out his own Value Plaque. The first thing he saw was the match photo: the picture of him sliding on his knees in domineering fashion after scoring his first goal.

Mm. In any case, he himself felt it was extremely domineering.

As he slowly turned it to his value, Maël's heart instantly leaped into his throat. He was not nervous, only excited. "8 million euros?"

"Hahaha."

Gilbert burst out laughing, leaning back and pointing at Maël. "Your level of joking still isn't very—"

His voice came to an abrupt halt. The last two syllables were practically muttered to himself. "—good."

Gilbert saw it too: the bright red words, 8 million euros.

He thought of Maël's stats, then thought of their ages. His eyes widened, his brows furrowed, and his face instantly turned green. "No way. It's real?"

Maël stood up with a smile, took the Value Plaque over to his display stand and placed it there, then looked back at him. "Want to put yours up too?"

Gilbert looked at the 350 on his own tag, then at the 800 on Maël's. When he realized he was not even worth half of Maël, he subconsciously wanted to crush the tag in his hand.

He carried the tag into the room in low spirits, leaving behind a forlorn silhouette.

"Huh?"

Maël looked completely baffled and spread his hands. "I really wasn't going to steal that tag from you."

That night, Lisbon, Portugal.

Mendes Agency, chairman's office.

Someone walked in and handed over the latest updated market values for players across every level of the United Kingdom's leagues that day, then turned and left without a word.

Jorge Mendes placed it on the desk, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the music in his headphones. This super-agent, who had essentially taken control of the European football transfer market back in 2004, was now in the prime of his confidence.

After Ronaldo won his first Ballon d'Or in 2008 and transferred to Real Madrid in 2009, Mendes's name had already resounded across Europe and Asia.

Not long ago this year, Mourinho, a coach under his banner, had led Inter Milan to the Treble, then taken charge at the Bernabéu with the lingering aura of having conquered all before him.

When it came to commercial football, there was no avoiding this successful football businessman.

"May as well take a look."

After a long while, Mendes took off his headphones and picked up the market-value list. He did not look at the column for the highest values, because he knew all of those players well.

What he focused on was the fourth page, the one showing the biggest rises in value.

This was the most important part, and also the section where newly emerging wonderkids would appear.

His agency had many people dedicated to watching matches in different countries, but manpower was limited after all. Transfermarkt was an important reference site for him.

He could find players there, then send dedicated staff to keep an eye on them.

"Maël?"

The age of seventeen was always especially eye-catching. It was linked with potential, and if it appeared here, that basically meant the player was destined to be a young star. "Feels like I've heard that name before."

Mendes remembered that someone had mentioned the name to him two weeks ago. He had also had people keep an eye on him. He seemed to be an Arsenal player.

He picked up his phone and searched through messages he had not yet read, soon finding a video report about "Championship Sheffield United's Maël."

He spent more than ten minutes carefully watching the report, then picked up his phone and sent a voice message. "Send someone suitable to make contact with the player. Keep watching him, and tell me immediately if anything comes up."

Seventeen years old, four goals and four assists in the Championship. Mendes put down his phone and smiled. This year truly was a year of gathering storms in European football.