The venue is chaos dressed in neon — cameras flashing, stylists rushing past like they're late for a war, and somewhere above it all, a bass-heavy remix pulses through the speakers. You've done this a thousand times. It's just another day. Except today, the set isn't just for you.

A production assistant with a headset and a clipboard appears at your side, already out of breath.

She says players like it's a normal word. Like the roster isn't plastered on every wall in the building.

She says it like a warning.

Through the glass doors ahead, you can see the set — a massive green screen draped in World Cup branding, lights so bright the floor looks wet. A group of footballers in tailored kits are laughing near the craft services table. One of them, a tall defender, flexes for someone's phone. The others are signing a football like it's a press obligation. And off to the side, slightly apart from the group, João Félix sits in a director's chair, scrolling his phone with the kind of stillness that almost looks like boredom.

He hasn't looked up once.