Arthur's eyes lit up like someone had just dangled a golden key in front of him. The deal with Adriano might not only have solved one problem but could also trigger a chain reaction—another chance to profit. He leaned back in his chair, tapping the edge of the scout report with his fingers as his brain ticked away at the possibilities.
But then he thought of Mancini, Balotelli's supposed mentor and biggest defender, and his excitement cooled. His brow furrowed. "Alright, Ron," Arthur said at last, his tone measured. "Let's say we make a move. Do you honestly think Mancini will let him go?"
Ron pursed his lips, clearly weighing his words carefully. "If Allen goes through the normal channels and puts in a straightforward offer, I think it'll be very tough. Mancini rates Balotelli too highly. But…" He paused for a beat, then added, "if you can get Moratti to lean on Mancini, to put some pressure on him, then there's still a chance."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. Moratti pressuring Mancini? That sounded like Ron was asking him to juggle knives while blindfolded. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor as his mind spun. He'd gotten to know Moratti pretty well over the past year. The man was a billionaire oil tycoon, yes, but not some reckless dictator who ran Inter Milan like his personal toy.
On the contrary, Moratti actually respected his staff. That was part of the reason why Adriano, despite his troubles, had always spoken warmly of the man. Moratti treated people with dignity, even when they were out of form or out of favour. He let his managers build squads their way, interfering only when absolutely necessary.
Arthur knew this because he'd benefitted from it himself. When he'd called about Adriano months earlier, Moratti had asked Mancini's opinion first. And because Mancini had already given up on Adriano, the deal had gone through smoothly.
But Balotelli? That was a completely different animal.
Adriano was seen as a fading star, a busted flush, a striker whose career had slipped away in a haze of lost potential. Mancini had no reason to fight to keep him. But Balotelli—Balotelli was a rising name, a rough diamond with stardust in his boots and madness in his brain. In Mancini's eyes, he was the future.
Arthur could picture it clearly: if Moratti were to call Mancini now and ask about selling Balotelli, Mancini would shut it down instantly. No hesitation, no compromise.
Which meant Ron's suggestion, while technically possible, was far from ideal.
The office sank into a heavy silence. Arthur sat forward, his hands clasped together, frowning hard as his thoughts churned. Simeone, Rivaldo, and Ron all kept their eyes on him, waiting for their boss to conjure up some masterstroke. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared to break the tension.
Arthur hated moments like this. Since coming back to the Premier League, he'd gotten used to things running smoothly when it came to snapping up young talents. Most of the time, all it took was Allen firing off an offer and Leeds United would get their man. Even big names like Torres, already carving out reputations in Spain, had been prised away with the right amount of money and persuasion.
But this wasn't some second-tier youth signing. This was Inter Milan. This was Balotelli, who Mancini valued. And Inter weren't short of cash these days either. No amount of throwing money at the problem was going to make them blink.
Arthur rubbed his temples, muttering under his breath. To see Balotelli sitting there in the scout report—his marketable face, his outrageous skill set, his maddening unpredictability—it was torture. The kid was practically screaming "future profit" from the page. And yet Arthur couldn't reach out and grab him. Not yet. Not unless he found a way around Mancini's wall.
It made him feel worse than being shot at close range.
Because here was the kicker: Arthur already knew the future. Manchester City's future. Within a year, the oil-rich financiers from the Middle East would swoop in and buy the club. And when they did, one of their first big moves would be to poach Mancini from Inter.
Arthur could see the puzzle pieces sliding into place. If Mancini landed in Manchester with Balotelli already in tow—if Arthur could engineer that transfer now—then the payday would be immense. City wouldn't blink at the price tag. They'd pay whatever Arthur wanted, simply because Mancini loved Mario too much to say no.
It was almost too perfect. Buy cheap now, sell high later. Like flipping a property just before the housing market exploded. Only in this case, the property was a hot-headed Italian forward who might accidentally set his kitchen on fire with fireworks.
Arthur leaned back again, running both hands through his hair. "Bloody hell," he muttered, half to himself. "This is either genius or suicide."
Simeone, who'd been unusually quiet until now, tilted his head. "That's football, boss," he said with a shrug. "Sometimes the genius and the suicide look the same."
Rivaldo chuckled softly. "Especially when Balotelli's involved."
The room broke into a low ripple of laughter, easing the tension for a moment. But when the laughter died down, all eyes turned back to Arthur. The decision hung heavy in the air.
He could already feel the itch in his gut—the itch that came whenever there was a gamble too good to resist. He knew Ron was right. Timing was everything. Opportunities like this didn't sit around waiting forever.
And the thought of Manchester City paying him obscene money down the line for a player he'd picked up on the cheap now? It was almost irresistible.
Arthur exhaled slowly, steeling himself. "Alright," he said at last, his tone sharp with resolve. "Let's not rush, but let's not waste time either. If we're going to pry Mario away, we'll have to be clever. Very clever."
The others nodded, the weight of the task settling in.
The room was silent again, but this time it wasn't hopeless silence. It was the kind of silence that came before a storm, before a plan took shape, before Arthur and his staff went hunting for their next big prize.
*****
Wait! Mancini was going to be poached by Manchester City!
The thought slammed into Arthur's head like a sudden thunderclap. His eyes lit up instantly, the earlier frustration swept away, and he leaned forward in his chair as if he'd just discovered buried treasure.
"Ron!" Arthur blurted out so abruptly that everyone in the room jumped. "When does Mancini's contract with Inter expire!?"
"Eh?" Ron blinked at him, completely lost. "Boss, how would I know? I scout players, not managers!"
Arthur's sudden outburst hadn't just stunned Ron. Simeone and Rivaldo, sitting nearby, exchanged baffled looks. Both tilted their heads at Arthur as if wondering whether their boss had finally gone mad from all the transfer wheeling and dealing.
But before Arthur could explain himself, Simeone's eyes narrowed with mock suspicion. Then, like a fox sniffing an opportunity, a mischievous grin spread across his face. He leaned back lazily and said with theatrical seriousness, "Boss, Ferreira and I are right here. If you're tired of managing, why not just pick one of us to take over? Why go chasing after Mancini?"
Arthur nearly exploded on the spot. He slammed a palm down on the table. "Get out! Who the hell said I don't want to manage anymore?!" He jabbed a finger at Simeone. "Don't tell me you've been plotting to usurp my throne all along?"
Simeone, unbothered, raised his hands innocently. "I'm just saying! You bring up Mancini's contract out of nowhere… sounded like succession planning to me."
Arthur rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might stick. "Succession planning, my ass! If I ever hand over the reins, it sure as hell won't be to you, Simeone. You'd have half the squad running around like street brawlers within a week."
"Ah, so you do still want to manage," Simeone muttered with a smirk. "Funny, then, that you don't even know when Mancini's contract ends…"
Arthur decided the best way to deal with Simeone's nonsense was to pretend he didn't exist. He turned deliberately away, fixing his gaze on Ron, who was still scratching his head.
"Ron, listen carefully," Arthur said, voice clipped but sharp. "I want you to check two things for me. First, when exactly Mancini's contract with Inter expires. And while you're at it, see if there's been any friction lately between him and Moratti. Get Alan involved if you have to—he's got the connections."
Ron nodded quickly, finally finding solid ground. He fished out his phone, thumbs flying across the keypad as he began jotting everything down.
Arthur watched him for a moment, then pressed on. "Second—this one's just as important—I want you to ask Alan to dig into the situation at Manchester City. Specifically, find out what's going on with their current owner."
Ron froze mid-typing, blinking up at him. "Uh… boss, the current owner? You mean Thaksin?"
"Yes, him."
Ron hesitated, lowering his phone slightly. "Boss… you do realize he's not just a football club owner, right? He's a politician. Like… big-time politician. Us poking around his affairs might not be the wisest idea."
Arthur paused, realizing the implication. Right. Thaksin wasn't just some random rich guy—he had strings in politics, business, and more shadows than Arthur wanted to deal with. The last thing Arthur needed was to get tangled in some international mess because he got too nosy.
"Fair point," Arthur admitted with a frown. He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the armrest, thinking fast. "Alright, forget the direct digging. Just tell Alan to keep an ear to the ground. Have him summarize any reliable news reports about Thaksin and send me updates regularly. That way we stay informed without sticking our noses where they don't belong."
Ron exhaled in relief and quickly typed the adjusted order into his phone.
Arthur sat back and let out a long breath. His mind was racing, stitching the pieces together. According to what he remembered, Inter would part ways with Mancini after winning the Serie A title next year. Then Manchester City would change hands, and Mancini would eventually end up there in 2009.
If history held steady, there was a golden window coming up. By the time Inter terminated Mancini's contract, Balotelli might be unsettled—or at the very least, Arthur could swoop in with an offer. Mancini's impending exit would weaken his grip on player decisions, and Inter might just cash in if the timing was right.
And then the real jackpot: once Mancini inevitably landed at Manchester City, he'd be desperate to reunite with Balotelli. City's new Middle Eastern owners would throw money around like confetti at a wedding. Arthur could buy Mario on the cheap now, then flip him later at an obscene profit when Mancini came knocking.
The plan was elegant. Beautiful, even.
But as Arthur sat there, a nagging doubt gnawed at him.
What if things don't play out exactly the same way?
Ever since he had inserted himself into the football world, history had shifted here and there. Transfers happened earlier, some careers took different turns. True, Thaksin's political downfall was unrelated to football, and that part probably wouldn't change. But what if the timing shifted? What if Mancini didn't go to City on schedule? Or worse, what if Balotelli's trajectory veered off entirely?
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn it… I hate uncertainty."
Still, one thing was clear: if Balotelli was within reach, Arthur wasn't going to let him slip away. Even with the risks, the potential payoff was too good to ignore.
Simeone, noticing Arthur's brooding silence, decided to stir the pot again. "Boss, you're really scheming hard over this Balotelli kid, huh? You look like a man trying to crack the Da Vinci Code."
Arthur glared at him. "Shut up, Simeone. You wouldn't recognize a good investment if it slapped you in the face."
Simeone chuckled. "Maybe not, but I'd still make sure that investment trained harder than anyone else on the pitch."
Arthur waved him off, turning his focus back to Ron. "Just get me the answers I asked for. Once I know exactly what Mancini's situation is, we'll move on Balotelli. Timing is everything here."
Ron gave a brisk nod. "Understood, boss. I'll report back as soon as I know anything."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. His frown lingered, but behind it, there was a glint of anticipation in his eyes.
If history stayed true, this could be one of the smartest moves of his career. If not… well, he'd just have to be smarter than history.
Either way, Balotelli was now firmly in his sights.