The noise reached him before the confirmation did.
Ethan noticed it in small ways first. A phone camera lifting a second longer as he walked past. A journalist asking a question twice, like the first answer hadn't satisfied him. A commentator casually dropping his name into conversations that weren't about Leyton Orient.
By Wednesday morning, it was everywhere.
"Millwall monitoring Ethan Cole situation."
He saw it on his phone while eating breakfast. No headline hype. No exaggeration. Just a sentence that made his stomach tighten.
Millwall.
Championship.
The Den.
Different level.
The system reacted instantly.
Media Exposure: Escalated
Speculation Density: High
Training that day felt sharper. Not faster — heavier. Every drill carried intent. Teammates were supportive, but distant in a way Ethan hadn't felt before.
They were preparing themselves.
So was he.
Jordan Graham didn't bring it up immediately. He waited until after recovery, when Ethan was toweling sweat off his neck.
"They've asked for a meeting," Jordan said.
Ethan froze.
"When?"
"Soon," Jordan replied. "Not a bid yet. Due diligence. They want to understand you."
Understand him.
The system pulsed.
Decision Pressure: Rising
Evaluation Phase: External
That evening, Ethan went home — not to his flat, but to the house he grew up in.
It smelled the same. Detergent and cooking oil. Familiar and grounding.
His dad sat at the kitchen table, work jacket draped over the chair, phone face down.
"So," his dad said. "Millwall."
Ethan exhaled. "Yeah."
Silence followed. Not awkward. Thoughtful.
"How long's the contract they're talking about?" his dad asked.
"Four years," Ethan replied. "Maybe five."
His dad nodded slowly. "And the money?"
Ethan hesitated. Then said it.
"About six thousand a week."
His dad stared at him.
"Six?" he repeated.
Ethan nodded.
"That's… more than I made in a year," his dad said quietly.
No jealousy. No excitement. Just disbelief.
"And if you get injured?" his dad asked.
"There's protection," Ethan said. "Insurance. Clauses."
His dad leaned back. "Good. Football's short."
The system updated softly.
Family Anchor: Confirmed
Decision Stability: Improved
His mum didn't say much. She just hugged him longer than usual before he left.
Back home, Ethan turned the TV on.
Millwall were playing at home.
The Den.
The sound came through the speakers first. Loud. Aggressive. Relentless. The kind of noise that didn't fade when the camera cut away.
He watched the midfield battle. Tight spaces. Hard tackles. Second balls fought for like they mattered.
Could his game survive there?
The system attempted analysis.
League Adaptation Simulation: Incomplete
Physical Demand Warning: Elevated
He didn't switch it off.
Friday brought confirmation that this wasn't speculation anymore.
Jordan called.
"They're talking numbers," he said. "Orient have set the bar."
"How high?" Ethan asked.
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand," Jordan replied. "They won't go lower."
£750,000.
The system recalculated.
Market Valuation Updated
Current Range: £700,000 – £900,000
"And wages?" Ethan asked.
"Six thousand base," Jordan said. "Increases with appearances. Survival bonus. Goal contributions add-ons."
Money stopped feeling theoretical.
This wasn't about dreaming anymore.
It was about leverage.
Saturday came fast again.
Another match. Another test. Another crowd singing his name like they wanted to keep him.
Ethan played well. Not spectacular. Efficient. Disciplined. He assisted once and tracked back relentlessly.
After the final whistle, he stood still for a moment, hands on hips, breathing hard.
The system spoke.
Performance Efficiency: High
Fatigue Cost: Moderate
That night, alone again, Ethan sat on the edge of his bed.
The system activated without prompting.
SYSTEM UPDATE INITIATED
Career Progression Interface: ONLINE
Data Threshold: MET
Development Analysis: Near Completion
He sat up.
Player Template Generation: Pending
Trigger Condition: Competitive Elevation
Not yet.
But close.
The system added one final line.
Multiple Trajectories Detected
Outcome Sensitivity: High
His phone buzzed.
Jordan.
"Millwall want to meet early next week," the message read.
Ethan locked the phone and stared at the wall.
This wasn't fear.
This was gravity.
Staying meant responsibility.
Leaving meant acceleration.
Both carried risk.
He lay back, hands behind his head, heart steady.
Whatever happened next wouldn't be accidental.
END OF CHAPTER 20
Author's Comment
Things are moving now.
Millwall is real.
Family is in the picture.
Money is no longer abstract.
So I'll ask you again — and this time it matters more.
If Ethan moves:
Is Millwall the right step?
Or is there a better club for his style and growth?
Drop your thoughts. I'm reading them all.