My Ultimate Gacha System-Chapter 305 - 293: Coppa Italia Final - The Morning I
Wednesday, May 14, 2025
Team Hotel, Rome
7:42 AM
Morning light filters through the hotel curtains and falls across the bed where Demien lies on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes, and his phone vibrates against the nightstand with the insistent rhythm that means multiple messages have arrived while he slept.
He reaches for it without opening his eyes and the screen shows 7:42 AM along with four notification badges, and when he unlocks the device the brightness makes him squint before his eyes adjust to the white glow.
The first message is from Marco and the timestamp shows 7:15 AM.
Marco: Big day, Demien. Your mother and I are driving down from Bergamo. We’ll be in the stands tonight. Just play your game. Proud of you regardless. - M
Demien reads it twice before scrolling to the next message, and Sophia’s name appears with a timestamp of 7:28 AM.
Sophia: Good luck today ❤️ Wish I could be there but we have a shoot in Milan that got moved to today last minute. I’ll be watching on my phone between sets. You’ve got this x
The third message is from Luca Bianchi and the timestamp shows 6:50 AM. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢
Luca: Heard you’re starting in the final tonight! Show them what Italian midfielders are made of. Braga’s season just ended so I’m watching from Portugal. Make us proud, fratello 🔥⚽
The final message comes from a contact saved as "Adidas - Partnership" and the timestamp shows 7:30 AM.
Adidas - Partnership: Demien, your custom Predator Elites arrived at the stadium this morning. Equipment manager has them. Good luck tonight. 🏆 #ImpossibleIsNothing
He scrolls through them once more without replying because words don’t come easily this early and the weight of the final sits heavy enough without trying to express gratitude through text, and Sophia’s message about the Milan shoot carries disappointment he doesn’t dwell on because missing the match hurts but her career matters just as much as his and understanding that reality is part of what makes their relationship work.
He sets the phone face-down on the nightstand before swinging his legs off the bed.
The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning unit near the window, and outside the curtains Rome is already moving with traffic creating a distant rumble that filters through the glass.
He stands and walks to the bathroom where his toiletries are arranged on the counter beside the sink, and he opens Twitter while brushing his teeth because routine helps manage pre-match nerves and scrolling through football news grounds him in the familiar.
The timeline loads and the first post appears from SerieA_EN with a timestamp of thirty minutes ago.
@SerieA_EN: TONIGHT: Coppa Italia Final 🏆 Atalanta vs AC Milan. Kickoff 21:00 CET at Stadio Olimpico. Winner takes all. #CoppaItalia
The engagement numbers show 12.4K retweets and 48.2K likes, and he scrolls past without lingering because the information is already burned into his mind from weeks of preparation.
The next post is from Fabrizio Romano with a timestamp of one hour ago.
@FabrizioRomano: Atalanta’s Demien Walter expected to start tonight. Golden Boy 2025 candidate. Several Premier League clubs monitoring his situation but NO official approaches yet. Focus is on the final. 🔵⚫️
The numbers show 8.7K retweets and 34.1K likes, and Demien’s jaw tightens slightly while he continues brushing because transfer speculation before a cup final feels like unnecessary noise that accomplishes nothing except creating distraction.
GazzettaWorld posted two hours ago and the tweet includes a camera emoji and an England flag.
@GazzettaWorld: Liverpool, Arsenal and Newcastle scouts confirmed at Stadio Olimpico tonight for Coppa Italia final. Watching multiple players including Atalanta’s rising star Demien Walter (19). 👀🏴
The engagement shows 5.2K retweets and 19.8K likes, and he scrolls past quickly because scouts attending matches is standard practice that doesn’t require acknowledgment or reaction.
A smaller fan account called AtalantaUltra1907 appears next with a post that makes him pause briefly.
@AtalantaUltra1907: If Walter plays like he did vs Bologna, Milan are cooked. Kid is different. #AtalantaMilan
The numbers show 421 retweets and 1.8K likes, and the confidence from supporters carries weight even through a screen because their belief matters more than media speculation ever could.
The final post he sees before locking the phone comes from FootballItalia with statistics that he knows are accurate because he’s lived every match that produced them.
@FootballItalia: Demien Walter stats this season: 38 appearances, 17 goals, 13 assists. The 19-year-old has been instrumental in Atalanta’s push for Champions League football and tonight’s cup final appearance.
The engagement shows 2.1K retweets and 9.4K likes, and he locks the phone before setting it on the counter because reading more accomplishes nothing except filling his head with external voices when his own mind needs to stay clear.
He finishes brushing and spits into the sink before rinsing his mouth, and the routine grounds him in the present moment rather than projecting forward toward kickoff that sits twelve hours away.
The shower runs hot and steam fills the bathroom while water pounds against his shoulders and neck, and he stands under the stream for ten minutes without thinking about tactics or Milan’s formation or the trophy waiting at the end of ninety minutes because this moment exists outside of football and belongs only to preparation.
When he emerges the mirror is fogged completely and he wipes it clear with his palm before dressing in the team-issued tracksuit that hangs on the back of the door, and the fabric is soft and comfortable while the Atalanta crest sits over his heart where it’s been stitched carefully.
He grabs his phone and room key from the nightstand before walking toward the door, and the hallway outside is quiet except for the distant sound of an elevator chiming somewhere down the corridor.
Team Hotel
Dining Area
8:17 AM
The hotel dining area is already occupied when Demien enters and several teammates sit scattered across tables in various states of breakfast completion, and the atmosphere is quiet with conversations happening in murmurs rather than the usual morning energy that follows lighter matches.
Koopmeiners sits near the window eating oatmeal slowly while his phone rests beside his bowl and his eyes track across the screen without his expression changing, and two tables away de Roon talks quietly with Scalvini about something that doesn’t carry far enough to hear clearly.
Lookman stands at the coffee station pouring from the thermal container into a white ceramic cup, and when he turns back toward the tables his eyes meet Demien’s briefly before he nods once in acknowledgment without speaking.
Demien moves to the buffet line where serving dishes hold scrambled eggs and toast and fresh fruit arranged in sections, and he fills his plate with controlled portions because matchday nutrition follows specific protocols that don’t allow for deviation even when appetite feels absent.
He carries the plate to a table near the back corner where the morning light doesn’t reach directly and sits facing the room so he can see teammates arriving while maintaining distance from conversations that might pull focus away from internal preparation.
The eggs are warm and seasoned properly and the toast is crisp without being dry, and he eats mechanically while his mind stays quiet because dwelling on the final before it arrives accomplishes nothing except building anxiety that serves no purpose.
Ederson walks in ten minutes later and his eyes scan the room before settling on Demien’s table, and he fills a plate quickly before crossing the dining area to join him.
"You sleep?" Ederson asks while setting his plate down and pulling out the chair across from Demien.
"A bit," Demien replies, and his voice is steady without elaboration because the truth is he slept in fragments between periods of staring at the ceiling. "You?"
"Enough," Ederson says while reaching for his fork, and the answer carries the same practical honesty that defines most of their conversations because neither wastes words on topics that don’t require detailed explanation.
They eat in silence and the quiet between them is comfortable rather than awkward because months of training and matches have built understanding that doesn’t need constant verbal reinforcement, and across the dining room other tables follow similar patterns where teammates share space without filling it with unnecessary noise.
The weight of the evening hangs over every table like pressure that can’t be released through conversation, and even players who normally joke and laugh stay contained because cup finals demand different energy than league matches where another opportunity exists three days later.
Gasperini enters at 8:43 AM and his presence shifts the room’s atmosphere immediately even though he doesn’t make noise or call attention to himself, and his eyes scan the tables once while players continue eating but awareness of his arrival ripples through every conversation.
He doesn’t sit and doesn’t approach any specific table, and instead he stands near the entrance with his hands in his jacket pockets while his expression stays neutral and focused.
"Bus leaves at five for the pitch walk," he says, and his voice carries clearly without being loud because the room has gone quiet in anticipation of whatever he came to say. "Be ready."
He turns and leaves without waiting for acknowledgment because the instruction was information rather than discussion, and the door swings shut behind him while the dining room remains silent for three seconds before conversations resume at their previous volume.
Demien finishes his eggs and sets his fork down carefully on the empty plate, and Ederson is still eating while his eyes stay focused on something outside the window where Rome’s morning traffic moves steadily past the hotel.
