Afternoon
Bastia-Poretta Airport, Corsica, had been completely transformed into a roiling blue ocean of humanity.
Through the porthole window, Julien had already glimpsed the surging crowds below, but when the cabin door finally swung open, the deafening roar of "BASTIA ARE CHAMPIONS!" still made his heart skip a beat.
He drew a deep breath and was the first to step through the doorway.
The moment Julien appeared, the explosion of sound reached a new crescendo.
The cheers crashed over him like a physical wave.
"JULIEN! JULIEN! JULIEN!"
The force of it nearly pushed him back a step. He steadied himself, then threw his arms wide as if to embrace all of Corsica itself.
The fans were delirious with joy. Everywhere Julien looked, countless blue flags and jerseys waved frantically, painting the airport tarmac and surrounding hills in the colors of celebration.
The police cordon—officers linking arms in a human chain buckled and swayed like fragile reeds against the tide of humanity.
Emotions surged through Julien's chest, threatening to overwhelm him.
He strode quickly down the aircraft stairs, his teammates were emerging behind him.
They waved to the roaring crowd.
In this moment, they were all conquering warriors returning from a glorious campaign.
A staff member rushed forward, pressing a traditional Bastia flag into Julien's hands—blue field emblazoned with the Moor's head emblem.
Julien seized it, spun to face the sea of people, and thrust the flag high above his head.
"BASTIA!" he roared, his voice was raw with emotion as the flag snapped and cracked in the wind, igniting the crowd to their absolute peak.
"ARE CHAMPIONS!" thousands of voices answered as one, the sound shaking the very sky.
"BASTIA!"
"ARE CHAMPIONS!"
In that instant, the boundary between players and fans dissolved completely. There remained only the blue ocean, and one heart beating for Bastia.
His teammates joined in, their voices adding to the thunderous chant.
In the chaos, a boy of about ten broke through the police line and rushed toward Julien, pressing a handwoven blue bracelet into his palm. A tiny football charm was dangled from it.
The boy looked up at Julien with eyes that shone like stars. "Julien, I made this for you. You're the best player in the world!"
"Thank you," Julien said, immediately dropping to one knee. He solemnly tied the bracelet around his wrist, then pulled the boy into a tight embrace. "It's beautiful."
The planned indoor welcome ceremony was completely abandoned.
The fans were simply too passionate to contain.
For the next hour, the players signed autographs and posed for countless photographs.
When they finally boarded the team bus, they thought the ordeal might ease—but the vehicle could barely move. Every inch of road leading away from the airport was submerged beneath a human flood.
Fans pounded on the bus panels, frantically passing up beer bottles, flower bouquets, even their own children for the players to hold and embrace.
Julien opened his window and continuously slapped hands with fans along the route, accepting Corsican flags thrust toward him and waving them to the crowd's delight.
When a bearded supporter handed him a bottle of red wine, Julien uncorked it with flair and sprayed it into the air, triggering an even louder eruption of cheers.
The convoy crawled toward the training facility at walking pace, drowning in songs, tears, and blue confetti that swirled through the air like snow.
A journey that should have taken twenty minutes stretched to nearly two hours.
Naturally, there would be no training today.
Everyone was deep in the throes of post-celebration withdrawal.
The medical staff bustled about the training facility as players sprawled in groups of two and three across massage tables, benches, even the floor itself like soldiers utterly spent after a great battle.
De Bruyne lay flat on his back in the center of the room, staring vacantly at a stain on the ceiling, a blue streamer still tangled in his blonde hair.
He spoke suddenly, his voice soft: "Hey, Julien, remember that pass I gave you in the semi-final against Chelsea? You were this close to being offside. Centimeters."
Julien leaned against the wall, absently spinning the new blue bracelet around his wrist with his fingertips.
He smiled faintly. "I remember. I thought I was done for. Then the linesman's flag stayed down. It was fucking exhilarating."
From a corner, Rothen carefully polished the Europa League trophy with a soft cloth, his movements were as tender as if he were caressing a lover's face.
Without looking up, he interjected: "That's nothing. Watch Italy's Inzaghi sometime—now that's cutting it close with offside."
A ripple of laughter spread through the room before fading back into silence.
Lukaku's massive body was wedged across two massage tables pushed together. He raised his phone, the screen was displaying their wild celebration photo from last night's changing room—all of them were drenched in champagne spray.
"Hey," his voice came out muffled and heavy. "What if this is the last time? The last time we celebrate winning something together like this?"
No one answered immediately.
That post-euphoria comedown, that languid atmosphere—it suddenly acquired a thin, perceptible edge of cold sobriety.
Kanté, who had been quietly stretching in the corner, stopped mid-motion. His gaze swept across each teammate's face.
Julien took a deep breath and stood up.
He walked over to Rothen, reached out to touch the cool metal of the trophy, then turned to address everyone.
"Listen," he began, his voice not loud but gained every eye in the room. "No matter where we are next season, this changing room, this trophy, and those roars we heard last night—they're nailed down here forever. Nobody can take them away."
He thumped his fist against his left chest.
After a pause, he swept his gaze across all of them and broke into a grin. "So stop lying around here getting sentimental. Get up! Tonight, I'm buying—the 'Sailor' restaurant at the old port. Everything's on me except the alcohol—that you pay for!"
A moment of stunned silence followed before an empty water bottle sailed through the air and bounced off Julien's shoulder.
"You're buying?! Did the sun rise in the west today?!" De Bruyne laughed as he sprang to his feet first.
It was true—Julien's relentless extra training sessions meant he rarely had time for team social activities. Their bonds had been forged completely on the pitch, in the training ground, in the gym.
"Let's bankrupt him!" Lukaku roared, his enormous body rolled off the tables with astonishing agility.
Instantly, the room became living. Laughter, cursing, the sounds of searching for shoes, teammates pulling each other around—the space was filled with noise and movement once more.
That brief moment of melancholy was swept away by something more powerful—the unspoken understanding between brothers-in-arms.
They knew separation might be inevitable. But precisely because of that, this time together demanded to be celebrated with everything they had.
Julien watched his teammates come back to life, a shallow, complicated smile appeared on his face.
Evening
At the old port restaurant, Julien and his teammates had carefully instructed the owner to give them a private room and keep their presence quiet.
It didn't work.
They were spotted anyway, triggering another wave of celebration.
Their table overflowed with food sent by fans—far more than they could possibly eat.
While they immersed themselves in these lingering moments of their championship triumph, across the channel in England, something seismic was about to break.
England — 7:00 PM
Sky Sports delivered a bombshell exclusive during their evening news broadcast:
"Saudi Sovereign Wealth Fund PIF Close to £700 Million Liverpool Acquisition—Record Deal Could Usher in New Era"
Sky Sports can exclusively confirm that Saudi Arabia's Public Investment Fund (PIF) has entered advanced negotiations with Fenway Sports Group (FSG), the owners of Liverpool Football Club, over an acquisition valued at approximately £700 million.
If successful, this move would mark the Saudi sovereign wealth fund's first major venture into global professional sports and would immediately place Liverpool among the world's most financially powerful football clubs.
Sources indicate PIF views this acquisition as part of its global investment portfolio diversification strategy and sees enormous growth potential in the Premier League. The partnership with FSG extends beyond mere acquisition—both parties are exploring deeper collaboration opportunities across the broader European and American sports industries.
However, the most stunning detail concerns the club's future competitive planning.
Sources have told Sky Sports that PIF's first major initiative following the takeover would be an attempt to sign Bastia's 18-year-old French striker sensation, Julien De Rocca.
This teenage prodigy, who burst onto the scene with a stunning performance in the Europa League final, has been hailed by European scouts as "the next generational phenomenon" for his explosive pace, technical ability, and clinical finishing.
PIF believes he would be the ideal flagship figure for Liverpool's new era.
To that end, a contract that would shatter the club's wage structure—an extremely lucrative top-tier deal is already being prepared.
PIF's plan is to build a team around De Rocca as the centerpiece: young, vibrant, and capable of sustained competition, with the goal of mounting a serious challenge for Premier League and Champions League honors within the next few years.
An insider stated: "This is not a short-term game. PIF's vision is intelligent, sustainable, long-term investment. Signing a talent like De Rocca symbolizes a commitment: Liverpool will once again become the most attractive destination for the world's top young talent."
This potential deal is expected to generate enormous attention throughout the football world.
Liverpool fans will be thrilled at the club's unprecedented financial backing, but will also closely monitor whether the new ownership respects the club's traditions and identity.
Sky Sports will continue to bring you updates on this blockbuster story that could rewrite English football.
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