Chapter 4: The House on Oluyole Street
The walk back from the National Stadium was different this time. In his first life, Mide had walked this path with his head down, kicking a flattened plastic bottle, mourning the "average" performance that had just cost him his future.
Tonight, the dust of the Surulere evening felt like gold leaf.
[System: "Look at you, walking like you've already won the Ballon d'Or. Slow down, Oga. You have 110 SP, not 110 million Euros. Your stomach is growling so loud it's interfering with my sensors. Go and eat."]
Mide chuckled under his breath, dodging a motorbike that swerved dangerously close to the curb. "I'm savoring the moment, Baba. You don't know what it's like to have knees that don't creak."
[System: "I am a multi-dimensional tactical interface rooted in ancient wisdom. I don't have knees. I have logic. And my logic says if you don't get home soon, your mother will use her left slipper to reset your 'Pace' stat to zero."]
Mide stiffened. Mama. In his previous life, his mother, Mrs. Adeyemi, had been his biggest supporter and his fiercest critic. She had worked three jobs to keep him in football boots, only to watch him fail and sink into depression. He hadn't seen her in years by the time 2026 rolled around.
He turned the corner onto Oluyole Street. The familiar sight of the two-story "face-me-i-face-you" apartment building hit him like a physical blow. The smell of frying plantains and the distant sound of a generator—the "Nigerian national anthem"—filled the air.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor, his heart racing faster than it had during the 90th minute. He pushed open the creaky wooden door.
"Olumide? Is that you?"
A woman stepped out from the small kitchen, wiping her hands on a faded Ankara apron. She looked exactly as he remembered—strong, sharp-eyed, and beautiful in that weary way only a mother who carries the world on her shoulders can be.
"Mama," Mide whispered. He didn't wait. He stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug.
Mrs. Adeyemi froze. Her son wasn't a "hugger." Usually, he'd stomp in, complain about the heat, and ask when the jollof rice would be ready. She pushed him back, squinting at him.
"Ah-ah! Why are you holding me like I'm going to heaven? Did you fail the trial again? Is that why you are acting like a ghost?"
Mide laughed, tears pricking his eyes. He used the back of his hand to wipe them away before she could see. "No, Mama. I didn't fail. I think... I think I'm going to England."
The plastic bowl in her hand hit the floor with a dull thwack. "England? Which England? The one in London?"
"Manchester, specifically," Mide said, helping her pick up the bowl. "A scout spoke to me. He's coming to the house tomorrow to talk to you and Papa."
[System: "Alert! High Emotional Resonance detected. +5 Charisma XP. Also, your father is behind the door. He's been listening for three minutes. His blood pressure is rising. Prepare for 'The Lecture'."]
As if on cue, the bedroom door opened. Mr. Adeyemi, a retired schoolteacher with thick glasses and an even thicker scowl, stepped out. He was holding a newspaper, but he wasn't reading it.
"England," his father repeated, his voice a low rumble. "Olumide, have I not told you? Football is a game for boys who don't want to use their brains. You want to go to England to kick a ball when you should be studying for your JAMB exams? Do you know how many boys go to Europe and come back with nothing but broken legs and shame?"
Mide stood his ground. In his past life, he would have shouted back. He would have been defensive and angry. This time, he looked his father in the eye with the calm of a man who had already seen the end of the road.
"Papa, I know you're afraid for me," Mide said softly. "But this is different. I'm not just 'kicking a ball.' I have a gift. And if I stay here and ignore it, I'll be the one living with shame. I'm going to Manchester to build a life for this family. Not just for me. For you, for Mama, and for my sisters."
Mr. Adeyemi blinked. The sheer maturity in Mide's voice caught him off guard. This wasn't the stubborn teenager who spent all day at the betting shops. This felt like a man talking to a man.
[System: "Skill Check: Persuasion. Success! Your father's 'Skepticism' debuff has been reduced by 40%. He still wants you to be a doctor, but he'll let the scout in the door."]
"We will hear what this scout has to say," Mr. Adeyemi muttered, though Mide saw his grip on the newspaper loosen. "But if I smell even one lie, you are going to the tutorial center on Monday. No more football."
"Fair enough, Papa," Mide smiled.
Later That Night
Mide lay on his small mattress, staring at the ceiling. The room was hot, the fan above him spinning slowly and squeaking with every rotation. He opened his System menu, the blue light illuminating the dark room.
Baba, show me the 'Market Intuition' for my neighborhood, Mide thought.
[System: "Calculating... Searching local talent pool..."]
Suddenly, the walls of the room seemed to disappear. Mide saw his neighborhood as a map of glowing dots. Most were dim—gray or faint white. But a few streets over, there was a bright orange spark.
[System: "Interesting. You aren't the only 'Golden Seed' in Surulere. Three streets over, there is a 12-year-old boy currently playing with a rag-ball. His potential is 88. His name is Wilfred Ndidi. In your past life, he was a star. In this life... do you want to recruit him for your 'Legacy' path?"]
Mide sat up, his eyes widening. Ndidi? He's only a kid right now.
[System: "Correct. But you have 110 SP. You could buy a 'Youth Training Manual' and give it to him. Or you could save your points for yourself. What is it, Mide? Are you a King who builds a kingdom, or a selfish boy with a fancy system?"]
Mide looked at his hands in the dark. The "Slow Pace" of his new life was setting in. He wasn't just a player; he was a pioneer. If he wanted Nigeria to win the 2010 World Cup, he couldn't do it alone. He needed the 'Golden Generation' to be even better than they were in the original timeline.
"How much is the Manual?" Mide asked.
[System: "80 SP. It will guide his development for the next three years, ensuring he reaches his peak early. It's a big investment, Oga. You sure?"]
Mide thought about his upcoming trial at Manchester United. He needed his own stats to be higher. But he also knew that "Vision" wasn't just about passing the ball—it was about seeing the future.
"Not yet," Mide decided. "I need to pass the Carrington trial first. I need the SP from the Premier League. But keep a 'Mark' on that kid, Baba. We're coming back for him."
[System: "A wise choice. Self-preservation before philanthropy. Now, go to sleep. Tomorrow, the scout comes. And after that... we see if your mother's jollof rice is enough to fuel a flight to Europe."]
As Mide closed his eyes, he didn't think about the scouts or the stadium. He thought about a song he'd heard in 2024. A beat that hadn't been invented yet. He hummed a few bars of a future Afrobeats hit, the rhythm lulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
[Current Status]
Location: Surulere, Lagos.
Day: 1 of the Rebirth.
SP: 110
Family Favor: Increasing.
Next Objective: The Meeting with Mr. Bernard (The Scout).