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***
The transfer news was confirmed the next morning.
Leeds United fans had been hoping it was all just rumors, but when they woke up and saw the headlines, their last bit of hope was crushed flat like a pancake under a bus.
It was all true.
Bates had pulled it off. He bought Howard. He took Blackwell. And to rub salt into the wound, he held a flashy press conference the same morning to show off his new signings like they were trophies.
Bates sat there with that smug grin, looking very pleased with himself. He had Tim Howard on one side, Kevin Blackwell on the other, and the media in front of him snapping pictures like crazy. It looked more like a wedding photo than a football announcement.
Howard kept it professional. Blackwell looked mildly uncomfortable, like he didn't expect the fan reaction to be so loud. But Bates? He had the grin of a man who thought he'd just checkmated his opponent.
Leeds fans were not having it.
The moment the press conference hit the airwaves, they swarmed the Leeds United official website. The comments came in fast and furious—most of them angry, some confused, and a few just typing in all caps with no punctuation at all.
A few fans tried to be logical about it. Most just wanted to know what in the world Arthur was thinking.
Why sell Howard? Why let Blackwell go? What's the club's plan now? Is there even a plan?
Arthur, meanwhile, was nowhere near a press room.
He had just stepped out of Trafford Park's training center when he got a call from Allen.
"Arthur, it's chaos here," Allen said, his voice tight. "The website's getting slammed. The fans are freaking out. Do we release a statement or what?"
Arthur didn't sound worried at all. In fact, he chuckled.
"Tell them not to panic," he said. "In two days, I'll bring the new goalkeeper back to Leeds."
Allen paused. "That's all?"
"That's all," Arthur said, still smiling.
Arthur had already decided he would take over as the new head coach himself. He left Allen behind at the club to handle the day-to-day operations and took a few of the staff with him. They all left Leeds quietly, using different routes.
The fifteen million euros that Bates paid for Howard had already been transferred to the club account.
There was no winter break in the Championship, which meant Arthur had to move fast. The next game was on Sunday, and he needed a functioning team on the pitch. That included a new starting goalkeeper.
He had already taken care of it.
Just before leaving Trafford Park, Arthur had finalized a personal contract with an 18-year-old goalkeeper named Kasper Schmeichel.
According to the regular timeline, Schmeichel wouldn't even join Leeds United until 2010. At that time, Leeds was still stuck in the lower divisions, and Kasper only played for them for one season before moving on to Leicester City.
Eventually, he'd win the Premier League there as part of Leicester's miracle run.
But that was years down the line.
Right now, Schmeichel was still sitting on the bench at Manchester City. He hadn't made any senior appearances. He was just a backup's backup.
Arthur hadn't noticed him at first. When he went through the system's scouting reports, Schmeichel's name didn't stand out. His current overall rating was a measly D. Not much to get excited about.
Without any special goalkeeper cards or templates, his current performance level was way below what Leeds needed.
But then Arthur looked closer.
Schmeichel's potential rating was A+.
That changed everything.
At that point, Arthur had already unlocked the "Master Coach" skill through the system. One of its biggest features was being able to speed up a player's development through training. That meant he didn't need to wait ten years for Schmeichel to hit his peak. He could coach him up much faster.
With A+ potential and a current value of only 500,000 euros, Schmeichel looked like a bargain.
Arthur didn't hesitate.
He pictured his dream again—turning Leeds into a top-tier club and running it like a black shop: buy low, train fast, sell high.
It fit perfectly.
So, he sent an email to Manchester City that same day, offering 800,000 euros for Schmeichel.
Manchester City responded quickly. They didn't even blink. To them, it was a great deal. A player they weren't using sold for more than his current market value.
Arthur wrapped up the personal contract details, and it was settled—Kasper Schmeichel would arrive in Leeds the following day.
Once he got back to the city, Arthur didn't waste any time.
He immediately scheduled a press conference. The fans were still in shock from losing Howard and Blackwell, and the media had already started pushing stories about a possible crisis.
Arthur knew he had to say something.
So he faced the reporters, calm as ever.
No drama. No panic. Just business.
***
Afternoon.
Arthur sat calmly behind the press conference table at Elland Road, facing a room full of journalists. A few cameras clicked. Some reporters scribbled notes. Most just stared, eyes wide, waiting for more after the unexpected bombshell he'd just dropped.
He had barely finished the sentence when a reporter, clearly in disbelief, raised his hand and blurted out, "Mr. Arthur, did I hear that correctly? You're saying Timothy Howard transferred to West Bromwich Albion… for just 15 million euros?"
The whole room was still buzzing from Arthur's earlier announcement. When he first mentioned the number, there had been a sharp collective gasp, followed by the unmistakable sound of journalists whispering, flipping pages, and double-checking their recorders to make sure they heard right.
Arthur leaned into the mic with a sigh, like a man explaining why his dog had run away.
"Yes, that's correct," he said, his tone slightly disappointed but calm. "Actually, I rejected their first offer. As many of you know, I made it very clear—Howard was not for sale. But West Brom came back with an improved offer, and this time, they triggered his release clause. We also spoke to Timothy. He made it clear that he wanted to return to the Premier League. Given that, I had no choice. I had to respect his decision."
He paused, letting the explanation sink in. Then he continued.
"Once the funds arrived from West Brom, we acted quickly. I can confirm that all of our transfer targets have agreed to our terms, and in the next two days, they'll be joining the club. So, I believe Leeds United's strength in the second half of the season will remain just as strong—if not stronger."
That final sentence seemed to do the trick. Several of the local journalists, many of whom were also Leeds United fans, nodded slowly. The mood in the room shifted. A few scribbled down headlines. One even smiled, clearly relieved.
Turns out, Arthur wasn't a villain after all.
Most of them had assumed he sold Howard just to ease financial pressure. Now it looked more like a chess move. The money was being reinvested. The club wasn't being gutted—it was being rebuilt. Fast.
And that gave them hope.
After a few quiet moments, a reporter in a navy blue jumper stood up and asked the next logical question.
"Mr. Arthur, if I may… you mentioned the new signings, but didn't say anything about the head coach position. With the game coming up on Sunday, have you found a replacement for Kevin Blackwell?"
Arthur smiled. He reached for a glass of water, took a long, slow sip, and set it down. Then, very deliberately, he reached under the table and picked up something the reporters hadn't noticed until now—a name badge on a lanyard. With great ceremony, he placed it around his neck and adjusted it neatly.
The reporters leaned forward.
What was he doing?
Arthur stood up, turned the badge around so everyone could see it clearly, and said in a steady voice, "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I, Arthur, will be taking over as head coach of Leeds United starting from the next match."
Afternoon.
Arthur sat calmly behind the press conference table at Elland Road, facing a room full of journalists. A few cameras clicked. Some reporters scribbled notes. Most just stared, eyes wide, waiting for more after the unexpected bombshell he'd just dropped.
He had barely finished the sentence when a reporter, clearly in disbelief, raised his hand and blurted out, "Mr. Arthur, did I hear that correctly? You're saying Timothy Howard transferred to West Bromwich Albion… for just 15 million euros?"
The whole room was still buzzing from Arthur's earlier announcement. When he first mentioned the number, there had been a sharp collective gasp, followed by the unmistakable sound of journalists whispering, flipping pages, and double-checking their recorders to make sure they heard right.
Arthur leaned into the mic with a sigh, like a man explaining why his dog had run away.
"Yes, that's correct," he said, his tone slightly disappointed but calm.
"Actually, I rejected their first offer. As many of you know, I made it very clear—Howard was not for sale. But West Brom came back with an improved offer, and this time, they triggered his release clause.
We also spoke to Timothy. He made it clear that he wanted to return to the Premier League. Given that, I had no choice. I had to respect his decision."
He paused, letting the explanation sink in. Then he continued.
"Once the funds arrived from West Brom, we acted quickly. I can confirm that all of our transfer targets have agreed to our terms, and in the next two days, they'll be joining the club.
So, I believe Leeds United's strength in the second half of the season will remain just as strong—if not stronger."
That final sentence seemed to do the trick. Several of the local journalists, many of whom were also Leeds United fans, nodded slowly. The mood in the room shifted. A few scribbled down headlines. One even smiled, clearly relieved.
Turns out, Arthur wasn't a villain after all.
Most of them had assumed he sold Howard just to ease financial pressure. Now it looked more like a chess move. The money was being reinvested. The club wasn't being gutted—it was being rebuilt. Fast.
And that gave them hope.
After a few quiet moments, a reporter in a navy blue jumper stood up and asked the next logical question.
"Mr. Arthur, if I may… you mentioned the new signings, but didn't say anything about the head coach position. With the game coming up on Sunday, have you found a replacement for Kevin Blackwell?"
Arthur smiled. He reached for a glass of water, took a long, slow sip, and set it down. Then, very deliberately, he reached under the table and picked up something the reporters hadn't noticed until now—a name badge on a lanyard. With great ceremony, he placed it around his neck and adjusted it neatly.
The reporters leaned forward.
What was he doing?
Arthur stood up, turned the badge around so everyone could see it clearly, and said in a steady voice, "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I, Arthur Morgan, will be taking over as head coach of Leeds United starting from the next match."
For a moment, the room was dead silent.
Then came the chaos.
"Wait—what?"
"You're joking with us!"
"I thought you were The owner? You're the coach now?!"
"Is this a prank? Where are the cameras? Oh wait, we're holding them!"
Arthur nodded, casually sipping his water again as if this was the most normal thing in the world. "Yes," he said simply. "I've decided to manage the team myself."
The reporters exchanged confused looks. One of them laughed nervously, like he thought it might be a prank. Another blinked several times and looked like he was waiting for a punchline. It never came.
One bold reporter finally asked the question on everyone's mind: "Mr. Arthur, forgive me, but... do you have any coaching experience?"
Arthur didn't flinch. "You'll find out soon enough," he said with a smirk.
Of course, none of them knew what he knew. They didn't know he'd just unlocked the [Master Coach] skill from the system's treasure chest. They didn't know his brain had basically downloaded years of tactical knowledge, coaching routines, training methods, and match preparation strategies in a flash.
To them, he was just a chairman playing Football Manager in real life.
Arthur looked around at the stunned room and tapped the badge again. "Look, we're in a transition phase," he said, a bit more seriously now. "But I'm confident in what I bring to the table. With our new signings coming in and the team we already have, we're not planning to drop off. Not even a little. Leeds United will keep pushing forward."
Some of the reporters were still skeptical. But others looked intrigued. Maybe this was crazy. Or maybe it was genius. Either way, it was going to be entertaining.
Arthur wrapped up the press conference with a few more comments about upcoming signings and team spirit, then exited the stage, leaving the journalists buzzing.
Backstage, Allen was waiting with a pile of documents.
"You sure about this?" Allen asked, clearly still shocked. "I mean, the board's going to have a stroke."
Arthur laughed. "They'll survive. Besides, if this works, they'll look like geniuses for letting me take over."
"...And if it doesn't?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Then we spin it as a bold experiment and blame the media."
Allen sighed. "Brilliant."
Arthur gave him a clap on the back. "Relax, Allen. I've got this. Besides, if I didn't do it, who would? Bates already took Blackwell. And I don't exactly have time to fly to Portugal and beg Mourinho."
Allen gave him a tired smile. "Fair point."
Arthur walked out of the room, badge still around his neck, feeling oddly excited. In two days, Kasper Schmeichel would be here. The young goalkeeper was raw, sure—but Arthur had plans for him. Big ones. With the Master Coach skill, he could polish that rough diamond and, maybe someday, sell him for a fortune.
But for now, there were more urgent matters.
Training sessions to plan. A squad to motivate. And a game on Sunday.
Leeds United had just lost their goalkeeper and their manager. But with Arthur now wearing both hats—owner and coach—things were just getting started.
And as the sun dipped behind Elland Road, the fans outside were still chanting, still dreaming, still hoping.
Whatever happened next, they were in for a ride.