My Ultimate Gacha System-Chapter 317 - 304: After Rome I

Wednesday, May 14, 2023 Stadio Olimpico, Rome Home Dressing Room 11:09 PM

The door closes behind the last official and the noise level climbs immediately while the trophy sits on a massage table at the center of the room, and Tolói reaches it first and lifts it with both hands before passing it to Koopmeiners who raises it once and passes it along, and the movement of the trophy around the room starts the celebration properly while music comes from somewhere near the back and champagne bottles arrive through the door carried by kit men.

Foam sprays across shirts and shoulders and boots while voices overlap each other in Italian and Dutch and English and none of it is intelligible because the noise is too thick, and De Roon gets his hands on the trophy and parades it through the tight space between the benches while players jump around him and grab at it and shout things that disappear into the general chaos.

Demien sits on the bench in front of his locker and unclips his medal to look at it while the room moves around him, and the weight of it in his palm is specific and real while the gold catches the light from the strip above and the engraving reads COPPA ITALIA in clean text across the face.

He clips it back on.

Phones come out across the room while players check messages and record short videos and hold the trophy up toward cameras, and the kit men and physios who have been in the stadium all night come into the room now because the official protocols are over and the space belongs to everyone who worked for it.

The music gets louder when someone connects a speaker to the room’s audio output, and the volume climbs until conversation requires effort, and Lookman is dancing near the shower entrance while Scalvini stands on a bench clapping above his head with both arms raised.

Gasperini appears in the doorway.

The music doesn’t stop immediately but voices do, and the drop in noise spreads outward from the players nearest the door until the room is quiet enough that the speaker is clearly audible before someone reaches over and turns it down, and faces turn toward the manager while the celebration pauses.

He steps through the door and stands at the center of the room with his arms folded across his chest, and his expression carries something between a smile and neutrality that takes effort to produce, and he lets the quiet hold for a moment before speaking.

"Sixty years," he says, and his voice stays level while his eyes move across the room. "You ended that tonight. Second half, you showed what this team is." He pauses. "Enjoy this. You’ve earned it." His eyes move once more. "But Champions League qualification isn’t done. Remember that."

He unfolds his arms.

Someone near the back calls out "Mister!" and the room erupts again before he’s finished turning toward the door, and he shakes his head once while he walks out and the door closes behind him and the music comes back up and the celebration resumes where it left off.

Demien locks his phone without opening it because the notifications on the screen are too many to process in this room with this noise, and he reaches down to unlace his right boot while the room fills with movement around him.

A staff member appears near his shoulder. "Demien. Your family is waiting outside."

He stands immediately and grabs a jacket from the hook above his locker before walking toward the corridor door, and the noise from the room fades as the door closes behind him while fluorescent lights take over from the warm strip lighting of the dressing room.

Stadio Olimpico Family Area — Corridor 11:17 PM

The corridor is concrete and quiet after the dressing room, and his boots echo against the floor while he pushes through the door at the end and the family waiting area opens up on the other side.

Isabella is standing near the far wall and she sees him before he reaches her, and her hands come up to cover her mouth while her eyes are already wet, and he walks straight to her and puts his arms around her and she holds on with both hands gripping the back of his jacket.

Neither of them says anything for a moment while the embrace holds and his chin rests above her head and she breathes in the specific unsteady way that comes after crying rather than before it.

"I’m so proud of you," she says finally, and her voice shakes slightly as the words come out. "So proud."

He holds on a moment longer before stepping back, and his hands stay on her shoulders briefly while she reaches up to wipe her face with the back of her wrist.

Marco steps forward from where he’s been standing a few feet away and claps Demien once on the shoulder while his expression is composed but his eyes carry the warmth of someone who has watched the whole journey from the beginning.

"You made history tonight," Marco says.

"Thank you for coming," Demien replies.

"I wouldn’t miss it." Marco’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he glances at it briefly before looking back up. "Every journalist in Italy wants five minutes. Some from England too."

"Not tonight," Demien says.

"That’s what I’ll tell them." Marco looks at Isabella once. "Press conference first. Then we’ll get out of your way."

Isabella pulls him into another hug that is shorter than the first, and her hands press flat against his back before she steps away. "Come see me when you can. No rush."

"I will," he says.

They move toward the family exit and he watches until they’re through the door, then turns back toward the tunnel while the corridor carries the distant sound of the celebration still running in the dressing room above.

Stadio Olimpico Press Conference Room 11:34 PM

The room is packed when they enter and the backdrop shows the Coppa Italia logo above the table where two chairs and four microphones wait, and camera flashes start the moment they sit down while journalists along the front rows begin raising hands before the press officer has finished introducing the session.

Gasperini sits to Demien’s left with his hands flat on the table and his face showing nothing particular while the room settles.

The first question comes from a reporter in the third row. "Demien — the first hat-trick in Coppa Italia final history. How do you process what happened tonight?"

Demien leans toward the microphone. "I can’t fully process it yet. We were three-nil down and I just wanted to help the team. The fact that it’s a record — I’ll understand that later. Right now it just feels like we won."

A second journalist. "You’re nineteen. Do you understand what tonight means for your career?"

"I think it takes time to understand things like this," Demien says. "Tonight I’m focused on the fact that Atalanta won."

A journalist from the back raises his hand and the press officer points toward him. "There are confirmed reports of scouts from Liverpool, Arsenal and Newcastle in the stadium tonight. Does that attention affect how you see your future?"

Demien glances once at Gasperini whose expression doesn’t move, then looks back at the journalist. "My focus is on Atalanta. We still have two league matches. Champions League qualification isn’t confirmed. That’s what I’m thinking about."

The answer is clean and he doesn’t add to it, and the journalist writes something down while the next question comes from the other side of the room, and the session continues with Gasperini taking the tactical questions and Demien handling the personal ones until the press officer signals time and both stand and exit through the side door.

Stadio Olimpico Home Dressing Room 11:58 PM

The celebration has shifted to a lower register by the time Demien returns, and most players are showered or changing while phones are out and conversations happen in smaller groups, and the trophy still sits on the massage table though it’s facing a different direction than before.

He walks toward it and stands in front of it while his fingers trace the engraving along the base, and the silver is slightly warm now from being handled by a full squad rather than cold the way it was during the presentation.

De Roon appears beside him. "Take it home tonight. Your turn."

Demien looks up. "Seriously?"

"Hat-trick in the final." De Roon shrugs once. "You go first."

Demien nods slowly and steps back toward his locker to finish changing, and he wraps the trophy carefully in his training top before placing it in his bag because there’s nothing else in the bag that needs protecting and the training top is the only padding available.