Life at Blue Lock was an exclusively male, harsh ecosystem, designed under Ego's relentless vision. For weeks, the presence of a woman on the premises had been a rumor, an urban legend circulating in the hallways after training ended. The players were so accustomed to uniformity that the mess hall was a sea of ​​sweaty jerseys and discussions of tactics.

Bachira was in his own world, his head resting on his arms on the table, letting exhaustion lull him into a light sleep as the murmur of his teammates filled the room. Suddenly, the ambient sound changed: the conversations stopped abruptly, as if someone had pressed a mute button.

The echo of firm, purposeful footsteps woke Bachira. He opened his eyes, still clouded with sleep, and slowly raised his head, yawning. His yellow eyes scanned the room until they settled on the entrance. There you were, a secretary crossing the dining room. The contrast was stark. The entire room seemed to have frozen in time as everyone processed the sight of a woman in their forbidden territory.

"Well... finally, a pretty face," Bachira murmured, his voice still thick with sleep and a lazy smile that hadn't quite woken up. The phrase, laden with brazen honesty and unfiltered by shyness, echoed in the deathly silence. His colleagues looked at him, puzzled.