Des Walker announced his retirement at the end of last season. Now, at thirty-seven, he has become an assistant coach for the first team, all thanks to the promotion and support from Tony Dunn’s mentor, Paul Hart—it was Hart who suggested that after retiring, he should become an assistant coach. Walker is a very sentimental person. Now that Hart, who discovered his talent, has resigned, and Hart’s most highly regarded Dunn has become the head coach, he hopes Dunn can succeed, which would prove Hart’s judgment was right. Besides, helping Dunn is also helping himself. Having just retired, he has no reputation or experience in the coaching world, and following Dunn is a good way to gain experience. These days, it’s not easy to find a decent job after retirement.

Walker nodded. “No problem, what kind of help do you need?”

Dunn pointed to his own head. “Mine’s still a bit foggy up here, sometimes I just short-circuit. Stay by my side and remind me in time, but be a bit tactful about it.”

Walker indicated he understood, then asked, “So, today’s training plan…”

“You arrange it.”

Hearing this, Walker was a bit taken aback, but he quickly caught on. “Then let’s go with the usual plan.”

“Mm-hmm, that’s it.” Dunn chuckled. “We’ll work together seamlessly.”

Walker shrugged. “I always feel like I’m deceiving people.”

“Ah, don’t let that feeling get to you. Sometimes deception is a good thing, like when you deceive someone for a good cause. That’s not called ‘deception,’ that’s called a ‘white lie.’ During training, I’ll just watch from the sidelines. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I won’t say anything—you handle everything. Go get ready, it’s almost nine o’clock, they’ll be here soon.”

Seeing Dunn accurately state the start time of training, Walker believed he really had recovered somewhat. So he nodded and left with peace of mind.

When Walker gently closed the office door, Dunn finally let out a long sigh of relief. Deception really isn’t good, and it’s not so bad if someone else exposes you, but he worried that one day he’d get confused and confess himself—that would be embarrassing.

Everyone’s impression of Tony Dunn is that of the old, rigid, medieval man. He doesn’t want to change himself just to fit others’ expectations. He, Dunn, is just a bit hot-tempered, a bit stubborn, and a bit uncultured. He hopes that through his own efforts, he can show them that this is the real Dunn. As for the old Tony Dunn… well, let him disappear with that collision on the sidelines. I don’t have the leisure to care where he went, nor will I feel guilty about it—after all, I lost a lot too! Damn it!

He glanced outside and found that the rain had actually stopped. The training ground, which had been empty just a moment ago, now had groundskeepers checking the condition of the turf for today.

A new day of training had begun.

※※※

The players were training on the field according to the usual schedule, but their minds were all on the head coach Tony Dunn on the sidelines. There was always someone sneaking glances over during practice.

It wasn’t just the players acting strangely—even the busy coaches on and off the field couldn’t suppress their curiosity.

Their head coach Dunn’s current look would strike anyone as odd, and make them want to take a few more glances.

Dunn was wearing sunglasses, along with an all-black outfit—black shirt, black pants, black leather shoes—black from head to toe. Standing on the sidelines, his face expressionless, he looked especially grim. With the gloomy sky as a backdrop, everyone passing by him seemed to feel a chill in the air.

Even Walker hadn’t expected Dunn to show up at the training ground dressed like this. The old Dunn always wore a neat tracksuit, a whistle around his neck, running laps with the players in sneakers. Now, he looked more like the club chairman. Don’t even think about him coming down to demonstrate any moves.

In fact, this was exactly the effect Dunn wanted. What he was worried about was that someone on the coaching staff would ask him to go on the field and demonstrate something physically—he couldn’t do it at all. He’d watched football for years, but when it came to playing, he was terrible. So he simply dressed like this, making it clear to certain people with ulterior motives—there’s no way I’m going on the field today. Plus, wearing sunglasses kept others from seeing his eyes, so they couldn’t guess what he was thinking.

Walker took good care of him, raising his voice much more than usual during training, and making sure to call out the players’ names. Compared to him, the other assistant coach, Ian Bowyer (Ian Bowyer), was much less enthusiastic. He was one of those who had shown a mocking expression in Dunn’s office earlier. According to Walker, Bowyer is a club veteran, having played for the team for many years before retiring and becoming a coach. He’s very senior.

After hearing this from Walker, Dunn understood. It must be because Paul Hart was dismissed this time, and that old man Bowyer thought the club would make him head coach, but instead Paul Hart recommended his own protégé, making the old man jealous.

It’s human nature, and Dunn understood. But that didn’t mean he would back down—Dunn has never admitted defeat to anyone.

If Bowyer is unhappy, well, so am I.