La célébrité est arrivée discrètement au début, puis d'un coup.
Tout a commencé par un article de journal régional : « Les jeunes sensationnelles de Monaco : Mbappé et Loki, l'avenir du football français ». Le journaliste avait assisté à un tournoi des moins de 17 ans où Ethan avait marqué cinq buts en trois matchs, et l'article est devenu viral en quelques heures.
Puis ce furent les reportages sur les chaînes sportives françaises. Ensuite, les comptes sur les réseaux sociaux consacrés au suivi de leur progression. Puis, les recruteurs du FC Barcelone, du Real Madrid, de Manchester City et de la Juventus, présents aux matchs des centres de formation, carnets à la main, les yeux rivés sur les deux garçons.
À l'automne 2013, Ethan Loki et Kylian Mbappé étaient les jeunes joueurs les plus en vue en France.
Et Ethan n'avait que quatorze ans.
Cette attention a tout changé.
À l'entraînement, Ethan remarqua que les défenseurs jouaient plus agressivement contre lui ; non pas pour le blesser, mais pour le mettre à l'épreuve, cherchant à prouver qu'ils ne pouvaient pas se laisser humilier par un joueur plus jeune. Ses coéquipiers lui accordaient parfois trop d'importance, préférant la passe au tir, et attendant des miracles alors qu'un jeu simple aurait suffi.
Le pire, c'étaient les chuchotements. Toujours les chuchotements.
« Tu l'as vu s'entraîner hier ? Incroyable. »
« Mon cousin dit que Barcelone a offert trois millions d'euros à sa famille pour qu'elle s'installe à La Masia. »
«Il va être meilleur que Mbappé.»
"No way. Nobody's better than Mbappé."
"Just wait. This kid is different."
Ethan tried to ignore it, tried to focus on football, but the noise was constant, inescapable.
The pressure manifested in unexpected ways.
One evening, after a particularly intense U-17 training session where he'd played poorly by his standards—only one goal, three missed chances—Ethan sat alone on a bench overlooking the Mediterranean, still in his training kit.
"Rough day?" a voice said.
Ethan looked up to see Leonardo Jardim, the first-team manager himself, approaching. The Portuguese coach had transformed Monaco's fortunes in Ligue 1, and seeing him outside of official settings was unusual.
"I missed some chances," Ethan said quietly. "I should have scored more."
Jardim sat down beside him, following Ethan's gaze out to the darkening sea. "You scored one goal. Against players three years older than you. Most coaches would call that exceptional."
"But I saw the other chances. I knew where to put the ball. I just... didn't."
"Ah." Jardim nodded slowly. "You're discovering the gap between vision and execution. Between seeing the perfect play and actually making it happen."
Ethan looked at the coach, surprised he understood.
"Let me tell you something about pressure," Jardim continued. "When I was a young coach in Portugal, I thought I had to be perfect. Every tactic, every substitution, every decision had to be flawless. You know what happened?"
"What?"
"I made myself sick. Literally. Stress, anxiety, couldn't sleep. Because perfection is impossible, Ethan. Even for someone with your gifts." Jardim turned to face him. "You see three moves ahead. That's extraordinary. But you're also fourteen years old. Your body is still developing. Your muscles are still growing. Sometimes your mind will see plays your body can't execute yet. That's not failure. That's just being human."
"But everyone expects—"
"Everyone expects you to be a child prodigy. And you are. But they forget the 'child' part." Jardim's expression was kind but firm. "Don't let their expectations steal your joy. Football should be fun. When did you last play just for the love of it?"
Ethan thought about it. When had he last played without thinking about scouts, expectations, statistics?
"I don't remember," he admitted quietly.
"Then we need to fix that." Jardim stood up. "Tomorrow is Sunday. No training scheduled. I want you to go to a public park—not the academy, somewhere normal—and just play. Kick a ball around. Maybe join a pickup game. Remember why you fell in love with football in the first place."
"But what if someone recognizes me?"
"Then they recognize you. So what? You're still just a kid who loves football." Jardim placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "The pressure will always be there. Scouts, media, expectations—it comes with extraordinary talent. But if you lose the joy, none of it matters. Promise me you'll remember that."
"I promise," Ethan said.
Sunday morning, Ethan took Jardim's advice.
He convinced his father to take him to a public park in Beausoleil—far enough from Monaco's tourist areas that he might not be recognized. A group of kids around his age were playing on a dirt pitch, using backpacks as goals.
"Can I play?" Ethan asked, approaching them.
A tall boy sized him up. "You any good?"
"I'm okay."
"Alright. You're on my team. We're down 4-3."
For the next two hours, Ethan played football the way he used to in Bondy. No coaches watching. No scouts taking notes. No pressure to be perfect. Just kids, a ball, and pure joy.
He didn't dominate. He passed to teammates even when he could have shot. He celebrated their goals as loudly as his own. He laughed when he got nutmegged by a quick-footed twelve-year-old.
"You're pretty good," the tall boy said after they'd won 8-7. "You play for a club?"
"Yeah. Monaco's academy."
His eyes widened. "Wait. Are you that kid? The one everyone talks about? Loki?"
Ethan hesitated, then nodded.
"That's so cool! Can you teach me that spin move you did earlier?"
And just like that, the awe disappeared. He was just Ethan again, showing a new friend how to do a roulette turn, laughing when he couldn't get the footwork right at first, encouraging him when he finally nailed it.
When Moussa came to pick him up, Ethan was dirty, sweaty, and happier than he'd been in weeks.
"Good day?" his father asked.
"The best," Ethan replied.
Monday training brought a surprise.
Coach Marcelo gathered the U-17 squad before the session began. "We have a special visitor today. He'll be observing training and might participate in some drills."
Kylian Mbappé walked onto the pitch wearing a first-team training kit.
The squad erupted in applause. Mbappé had been training with the first team regularly now. He was living the dream they all chased.
"Show-off," Ethan called out, grinning.
Mbappé laughed. "Just here to keep you humble, petit."
Training was intense. With Mbappé participating, everyone elevated their game. The pace was faster, the competition fiercer, the quality higher.
During a shooting drill, Mbappé and Ethan took turns. Mbappé's shots were powerful and precise—five out of five in the top corners. Clinical.
Ethan went next. His first four shots matched Mbappé's—different corners, same precision.
For the fifth shot, instead of going for power, Ethan tried something different. A Panenka—a chipped penalty straight down the middle, audacious and risky.
The ball floated gently into the net while the goalkeeper dove to his right.
The squad exploded with reactions—half cheering, half laughing at the sheer cheekiness.
"Really?" Mbappé said, hands on hips but smiling. "A Panenka? In training?"
"You said to stay humble," Ethan replied innocently. "I thought I'd remind everyone I can do stuff differently."
Even Marcelo was smiling. "That takes confidence. And skill. Good."
After training, as they walked off the pitch, Mbappé draped an arm over Ethan's shoulders.
"You're getting scary good, you know that?"
"Learning from the best," Ethan said.
"Don't give me that modest act. You know exactly how good you are." Mbappé's tone was serious now. "But real talk—how are you handling all the attention? The pressure?"
Ethan thought about Jardim's advice. About Sunday in the park. About remembering the joy.
"Some days are harder than others. But I'm figuring it out."
"Good. Because it only gets more intense from here." Mbappé stopped walking and turned to face him. "Listen, I've been where you are. The prodigy label, the expectations, everyone watching your every move. It can crush you if you let it."
"How do you handle it?"
"I focus on what I can control. My training. My attitude. My preparation. Everything else—the media, the scouts, the opinions—that's just noise." Mbappé resumed walking. "Also, having friends helps. People who knew you before the fame. Who remind you that you're just a person who happens to be really good at kicking a ball."
"Is that what we are? Friends?"
Mbappé smiled. "We're the Princes of Monaco. We're more than friends. We're brothers on this journey."
Those words stayed with Ethan as he headed home that evening. Brothers on this journey. It felt right.
That night, Ethan added a new entry to his notebook:
Remember:- The pressure is a privilege. Not everyone is good enough to feel it.- Joy comes first. Without joy, there's no point.- I'm not alone. Kylian is on this path too.- Three moves ahead, but stay present in the moment.
He closed the notebook and looked out at the Mediterranean, the lights of Monaco twinkling in the darkness.
Fourteen years old and the weight of expectations was already heavy. But he was learning to carry it. Learning that being a prodigy meant more than just talent—it meant mental strength, resilience, perspective.
The burden was real.
But so was the dream.
And Ethan Loki wasn't going to let pressure steal his future.
Two years until he turned sixteen. Three years until professional debut at seventeen.
The Princes of Monaco were getting closer.
Fin du chapitre 10
Suite : Chapitre 11 - Appel international (14 ans, équipe de France des moins de 16 ans)