Chapter 230: [230] "HOUSE 1 PART 2"

The house was a statement of wealth. Sharp angles, massive floor-to-ceiling glass panes, and dark, polished concrete walls that gave it the appearance of a high-end fortress rather than a home.

Standing on the front steps, holding a what Luc could only think was a portfolio, and wearing a tailored suit was the real estate agent.

Luc parked the Porsche and killed the engine.

"Alright," Luc said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "You check the specs, the space, and the tech if it’s completely a smart home. I’m going to look at the hidden spots. I’m looking at how easy it is for paparazzi to hop the fence, how the acoustics echo, and whether you can actually relax in a place that looks like a modern art museum."

"That’s the plan then," Hugo said, slipping his tablet into his bag and stepping out of the car.

The agent walked down the steps, his face plastered with a wide, impossibly white smile. He extended a hand toward Luc first, then Hugo.

"Gentlemen! Laurent-Pierre, at your service," the agent greeted, his voice slick and highly practiced. "An absolute honor to have the captain and the maestro of SC Valois here. I watched some of the matches. Brilliant Monsieur Blanc. Truly."

Hugo didn’t smile and shook the agent’s hand with brief, mandatory pressure. "The property was listed at a specific price point, but the tax history indicates a recent reassessment. We will need to discuss the property tax burden before we finalize any interior tours."

Laurent-Pierre blinked, his practiced smile freezing up. He clearly hadn’t expected the seventeen-year-old footballer to immediately interrogate him on municipal tax stuff. He looked at Luc for help.

Luc simply crossed his arms. "He asked you something, Laurent-Pierre."

"Yes. Of course," the agent recovered smoothly, opening his portfolio. "The reassessment was simply due to the addition of a few things. The burden is well within the market standard for this postal code. Shall we step inside gentlemen?"

Hugo nodded, walking past the agent and up the steps.

Luc followed close behind. The moment he crossed the threshold into the massive foyer, he felt the chill. It wasn’t the temperature of the air conditioning, it was the atmosphere of the house itself.

The interior was visually stunning. White marble floors stretched endlessly into an open-concept living area. The back wall of the house was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of a perfectly manicured lawn and a dense tree line.

"As you can see, the natural light is unparalleled," Laurent-Pierre announced, gesturing grandly to the living space. "The current owner completely gutted the interior to create a seamless flow between the living, dining, and entertainment spaces. It is designed for hosting."

Hugo stopped in the center of the living room. He didn’t look at the view. He was staring at the ceiling, tracking the placement of the HVAC vents.

"During the winter months, the heating requirements for this specific room will be inefficient. The acoustic bounce off the marble flooring will create a reverberation. It is too loud."

Laurent-Pierre swallowed hard. "We can certainly look into area rugs to dampen the sound, Monsieur Blanc."

Luc walked over to the massive, U-shaped sectional sofa positioned in the center of the room. He pressed his hand into the cushion. It was stiff, designed for aesthetics rather than actual comfort. He looked around the vast, echoing space.

"Hugo," Luc called out, keeping his voice low enough so that it wouldn’t be heared by the agent.

The teenager walked over.

"It’s a beautiful house," Luc said, scanning the immaculate kitchen with its brutalist concrete island. "But it’s a showroom. When you come home from a match after running yourself into the ground for ninety minutes, you want a sanctuary. You want a place where you can collapse without worrying about all these fancy stuff. This place demands you to sit up straight. I know everyone dreams of this kind of luxury, but personally this one irks me man."

Hugo analyzed the room, absorbing Luc’s perspective. "You believe the environment will cause a bit of tension."

"I think you’ll feel like you’re living in a museum," Luc confirmed. "And look at the sightlines." Luc pointed toward the massive glass wall at the back. "It looks great now because the trees are full. But when the leaves drop, anyone sitting on the hill behind that fence has a direct line of sight straight into your living room." Luc paused.

He continued. "The paparazzi will buy long lenses and set up camp. You’ll have to keep the automated blinds down all winter, which defeats the purpose of the glass."

Hugo processed what his captain said. He looked at the glass wall, then at the distant hill.

"A vulnerability in privacy," Hugo agreed, making a sharp note on his tablet. "Unacceptable."

Laurent-Pierre, sensing the momentum of the sale slipping away rapidly, stepped forward with a renewed burst of aggressive enthusiasm.

"Gentlemen, please, follow me to the lower level," the agent urged, gesturing toward a floating glass staircase. "The true masterpiece of this property is the recovery suite. It was custom-built for professional conditioning. I promise you, it will alleviate any concerns regarding the living space."

Luc and Hugo exchanged a glance before following the agent down the stairs.

The subterranean level was undeniably impressive. The air was slightly humid, carrying a faint, clean scent. The entire basement had been converted into a state-of-the-art medical and fitness facility.

There was a full-length pool, a hyperbaric oxygen chamber tucked into the corner, and a massive hydrotherapy setup featuring both hot and cold plunge pools identical to the ones at the Sporting Club Valois training complex.

Even the flooring was designed for heavy weightlifting, equipped with multiple squat racks and a turf strip for sprints.

"The current owner spared absolutely no expense," Laurent-Pierre beamed, clasping his hands behind his back as he watched the two footballers take in the room. "The hydrotherapy system is fully automated. The water temperatures are maintained continuously. You can transition from the stadium to your own private recovery center without ever having to rely on the club’s public facilities."