The System Turned Football's Worst Prospect Into a Monster.

Chapter 85: Volume 1, Chapter 85: Teu’s Sixteen

The mix was muddy through the low mids, blunting the snare and pushing the hi-hat pattern behind everything else. Mateus "Teu" Santos had spent three hours fine-tuning it on Friday afternoon.

"Cut two decibels at four hundred hertz," Teu said, pointing his drumstick at the laptop screen resting on the wooden crate. "It sounds like it’s playing from inside a plastic bucket."

André Lobo leaned over the second-hand controller, his thumb hovering above the equaliser dial. "It’s supposed to hit hard in a small room, Teu. If you thin out the low mids, the transition loses its bounce. Nobody’s listening to hi-hats on a portable speaker."

"I’m listening to them," Teu said, stepping back to lean against his bedroom wall. "And it’s my track. If we play the rough demo tonight, the balance stays clean. Don’t boost the low end just because the room is crowded."

"It’s your sixteenth, man," André muttered, though he adjusted the frequency slider back towards neutral. "You’re acting like a sound engineer at the Coliseu instead of letting people hear the hook."

Teu adjusted his hoodie. He masked his perfectionism with humour around the rest of the group, but music was the one space where he refused to compromise. Unfinished work wasn’t meant for public playback unless the mix was honest. Playing a muddy export just to get nodding heads in a crowded living room felt cheap.

"We play the two clean instrumentals first," Teu decided, tapping the edge of the crate. "If the output stays stable and the speakers don’t clip, we test the transition after eight. Not before."

Earlier that morning, across the river at Alcochete, Rayan completed his fourth full session with the primary U17 squad.

The morning block focused on structured possession, and Rayan spent ninety minutes applying the receiving angles he had drilled earlier in the week. When passes arrived at awkward heights or forced angles, he set his feet early, absorbed the initial pressure, and directed his first touches away from incoming contact. During one wide rotation, a compact shoulder drop shifted the defender half a step and allowed Rayan to recycle inside. On the next repetition, the defender held his position and forced him backwards, but both attempts were cleaner than they had been earlier in the week. He didn’t dominate the pitch or create highlight-reel moments, but he kept his play clean, recycling possession quickly and maintaining his position in the tactical structure.

Following the session, he completed his scheduled physical-development programme with Pedro Gama, focusing on core stability and low-impact hip mobility, before taking a fifteen-minute ice bath.

As he cleared his locker in the dressing room, his vision flickered with the familiar interface.

[U17 INTEGRATION.]

[Full U17 training sessions: 4/5.]

[Body Feint: Novice — 68%.]

[First-Touch Escape: Novice — 20%.]

Marques gave the squad only the usual recovery reminder: hydrate, eat properly, sleep and report ready for Saturday’s fifth session.

By seven in the evening, Teu’s living room was filled with noise, plastic cups, and the scent of grilled meats and sweet bread.

A dozen teenagers crowded the space, talking over one another while a football game ran on mute on the television screen. Someone had already knocked over a stack of paper napkins, and André was actively guarding the sound setup to stop a couple of younger kids from messing with the gain knobs.

Rayan watched Teu move between the guests without allowing the evening to turn into a performance about him. He checked the speaker cable twice, moved a bowl away from the controller and stopped one of the younger boys from twisting the gain dial. When Joca lifted his phone to record the setup, he asked before filming.

"Just the equipment and the track," Teu said. "Don’t put everyone online."

Joca nodded and changed the angle towards André’s hands and the lights on the controller. A few minutes later, one of their friends asked when Teu planned to play his own music. Teu glanced at the laptop, then shook his head.

"Not yet."

Nobody argued for long. A muted football replay continued on the television while Idris and Inês disputed a referee decision they could not hear, and two others started another gaming round near the window. Teu laughed with them, but his eyes continued drifting towards the level meter on the laptop.

When André tried to increase the master volume, Teu caught his wrist before the dial moved.

"The room’s already full," Teu said. "Leave it."

André rolled his eyes but obeyed. The exchange ended there. Teu did not need everyone to understand why the details mattered. The gathering mattered to him, yet so did hearing the track the way he intended. Rayan understood the feeling. Teu was not waiting for permission to care seriously about something just because the room treated it as entertainment.

Rayan sat on the arm of the sofa, holding a bottle of water, entirely comfortable being part of the background rather than the centre of attention.

Bia sat nearby on a dining chair, a heavy ring-bound binder open across her knees. While others moved back and forth from the food table, she was quietly organising printed photographs and tracing paper overlays from her summer architecture portfolio.

Rayan leaned slightly closer, noticing a detailed pencil layout showing pedestrian routes around an old urban square.

"What’s the shading overlay for?" Rayan asked, pointing to the cross-hatched lines over the bus-stop layout.

"It shows where the shade reaches between three and six," Bia said, lifting the tracing paper. "If the bench has no cover, nobody will use it in July. A drawing can look good and still be useless."

"So you’re checking how people would actually use it," Rayan said.

"Exactly." Bia smiled and closed the binder as someone squeezed past towards the balcony.

Bia shifted the binder out of the way, and their attention returned to Teu’s music as André tested the next track.

At half past eight, Rayan stood up and adjusted his jacket. He had his fifth required U17 integration session scheduled for Saturday morning, and Fonseca’s recovery rule required eight full hours of sleep.

He didn’t make a formal speech or draw attention to himself. He simply walked over to the corner where Teu was adjusting a cable.

"I’m heading out, Teu," Rayan said, catching his shoulder. "Happy birthday, man."

Teu looked up, checking his watch. "Eight-thirty? Seriously, Rayan? The track hasn’t even dropped yet."

"Session five is tomorrow morning," Rayan replied with a small grin. "I need to be on the bus by seven."

Teu shook his head, sighing with dramatic disappointment. "You’re turning into an old man at fifteen. Fine. Go sleep for your coaches." He gave Rayan a quick, firm hug. "Thanks for coming over, man."

Rayan left quietly through the front door.

Inside, Teu turned back to the desk setup. He slid André out of the way, reached for the main volume dial, and opened the audio software.

He selected the third track. The one they had argued about all afternoon. He left the hi-hats sharp, kept the mid-range unboosted, and hit play.

The low, clean bass hit the room precisely as he had designed it. As his friends turned around, shouting in approval at the sudden drop, Teu leaned back against the wall with a quiet, satisfied smirk.