His follower count had jumped from around 3,000 this morning to 143,247 now, and the number was still climbing in real-time—he refreshed and it jumped to 143,891, then 144,356.

His mentions were absolute chaos:

@atalantaofficial tagged you in a post @espnfc tagged you in a post

@433 tagged you in a post @brfootball tagged you in a post @goal tagged you in a post @OptaPaolo mentioned you in a post @FabrizioRomano mentioned you in a tweet

His DMs were flooded—hundreds of messages from people he'd never met congratulating him, scouts saying they'd been watching, agents asking if he had representation, fans asking for autographs, random accounts sliding in with everything from sponsorship offers to date requests.

Twitter:

His mentions were a tsunami:

@Enzyx11: "Demien Walter is HIM. That rainbow flick volley on debut is GENERATIONAL 🔥🔥🔥"

@TacticalPadawan: "2 goals, 1 assist on your debut? Welcome to Serie A young king 👑"

@CalcioZone: "That second goal holy shit 🚀 Rainbow flick into a volley before it even lands??? Atalanta found another gem"

@FootballTakes_: "Fiorentina really let this guy go 💀💀💀"

@SerieA_Analysis: "Demien Walter's Serie A debut: 2 goals (1 rainbow flick volley), 1 assist, 9.3 rating. Remember the name."

@ItalianFootball247: "Just watched an 18-year-old produce one of the goals of the season on his debut. Atalanta have done it again."

@mud104: "That celebration climbing the fence to his mother made me cry. This is what football is about 💙"

@BergamoBlues: "Walter climbed the fence TWICE. First goal = points to mom. Second goal = kisses her head through the fence while crying. I'M NOT OKAY 😭"

Highlight clips were already circulating—his assist to Lookman, his first goal, and especially that rainbow flick volley, the video looping endlessly with millions of views as people shared and reshared it across social media.

@FabrizioRomano: "Demien Walter's Serie A debut: 2 goals, 1 assist, and a Man of the Match. The 18-year-old rejected by Fiorentina has just announced himself. Remember the name. 🔵⚫️ #Atalanta"

@OptaPaolo: "2 - Demien Walter is the first player to score a brace on his Serie A debut for Atalanta since 2019. He's also the youngest player (18y 147d) to score 2+ goals on debut for the club this century. Arrival."

@DiMarzio: "Incredible debut from Demien Walter at Atalanta. That rainbow flick volley will be replayed for years. Gasperini personally requested this signing after the trial - his eye for talent continues. 👏"

@ESPN_Burnett: "Just watched Demien Walter's debut. That second goal is going straight into my 'Goals of the Season' compilation in August. Outrageous technique."

His phone buzzed with a text message, and when he opened it his heart jumped slightly.

Sophia: You absolute madman. I'm so proud of you. That celebration at the end made me cry. Call me later? ❤️

He was about to respond when de Roon's voice cut through the room.

"Oi! Walter!"

Demien looked up and the captain was standing in the middle of the dressing room in just his shorts, holding his phone up with a huge grin on his face.

"You know you're trending on Twitter, right? Number three in Italy. Behind only the match itself and Lookman."

The room erupted in cheers and teasing, several players whistling while others threw towels at him, and Højlund shouted from near the showers, "He's famous now! Can't sit with us anymore!"

"Fuck off," Demien laughed, but he was grinning.

Gasperini appeared in the doorway then, and the room quieted slightly as the manager surveyed his players.

"Good performance today," he said simply. "Enjoy it tonight, but tomorrow we start preparing for next week. This is just the beginning of a long season."

His eyes found Demien. "Walter, well done. But remember—this is one match. Don't read too much of what they write about you, good or bad. Keep your head down, keep working, and let your football speak."

"Yes, Coach," Demien replied.

Gasperini nodded once and left, and the moment the door closed the room erupted again, music turning louder as the celebration resumed.

Koopmeiners sat down beside Demien and clapped his shoulder. "Your phone is going to be insane for the next few days. My advice? Turn off notifications for a bit. Enjoy the moment, but don't let it consume you. That rainbow flick is going to follow you everywhere now."

"Thanks," Demien said sincerely.

The Dutch midfielder smiled and headed toward the showers, and Demien looked back down at his phone where the notifications were still flooding in, his Instagram now sitting at 147,892 followers and climbing by hundreds every few seconds.

He opened his messages app and typed a response to Sophia:

Demien: Thank you. That means a lot. I'll call you when I get home.

Then he sent another message to his mother:

Demien: I love you, Mom. Thank you for being there.

Her response came immediately:

Mom: I love you so much. So proud of you, my beautiful boy.

Demien stared at that message for a long moment, and something in his chest ached in that good way that meant healing rather than breaking.

De Roon's voice cut through his thoughts again. "Seriously though, Walter. I hope you're ready."

Demien looked up. "Ready for what?"

The captain gestured at his phone, at the dressing room, at everything. "For this. For what comes next. You just announced yourself to all of Italy. Every team will know your name now. The expectations will be different."

He paused, his expression serious but not unkind. "You had a perfect debut. That's incredible. But the hard part isn't having one good game—it's backing it up, match after match, season after season. Can you handle that?"

Demien thought about David Drinkwater's seventeen clubs and thirty-seven years of struggle, about Demien Walter's rejection and rock bottom, about the system and the second chance and everything that had led to this moment.

"I can handle it," he said quietly.

De Roon studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Because the pressure only gets heavier from here."

The captain stood and headed toward the showers, and Demien sat there holding his phone and his man of the match trophy, surrounded by celebrating teammates, processing everything that had just happened.

Two goals. One assist. Man of the match. Serie A debut.

This is just the beginning.

He looked at his phone one more time before putting it away, and the last notification he saw before the screen went dark was from Twitter:

Trending in Italy #Damien Walter - 847K tweets #RainbowFlickVolley - 312K tweets

#AtalantaSampdoria - 1.2M tweets

Trending in England #Damien Walter - 156K tweets

Trending in Portugal

#Damien Walter - 89K tweets

He smiled and set the phone down, then stood and grabbed his towel to head for the showers.

The water was hot and perfect, washing away the sweat and grass stains, and as he stood there with his eyes closed letting it run over his face, he thought about everything that had led to this moment—David's death at Wembley, the regression into Demien's body, the suicide note that would never be written, the trial at Atalanta, the contract, and now this.

Two goals. One assist. Man of the match. Rainbow flick volley on debut.

He turned off the water and grabbed his towel, and as he dried off he could still hear his teammates celebrating in the dressing room beyond the showers, their voices echoing off the tiles.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new expectations, new pressures.

But tonight was for celebrating.

Hotel Room - Central Milan - 11:47 PM

The man sat in the leather chair by the window, his hotel room dark except for the glow of his phone screen and the city lights filtering through the half-open curtains. He was in his mid-forties, and his face remained shadowed as he scrolled through Twitter with focused attention.

The blue light illuminated his features in fragments—sharp jawline, greying temples, eyes that missed nothing.

He'd been reading for twenty minutes now, watching the social media explosion in real-time, seeing the clips shared and reshared, the commentary from journalists and fans alike, the numbers climbing with each refresh.

His thumb paused on a particular video—the rainbow flick volley, slowed down to show every detail of the technique. The ball arcing over the defender's head, the pivot, the body shape, the connection, the finish.

He watched it three times.

Then he opened another clip—the celebration, Demien climbing the fence to reach his mother, their hands meeting through the barrier, the kiss to her head, both of them crying.

The man's expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his eyes.

He scrolled further and found the post-match interview, unmuted it, and listened to Demien's voice—mature beyond his years, articulate, humble—before that moment at the end.

"To a special girl, I hope you watched the match and this is for you."

The corner of the man's mouth twitched slightly.

He locked his phone and set it on the side table, then stood and walked to the window, looking out over Milan's skyline—the Duomo illuminated in the distance, lights stretching toward the horizon.

For a long moment he just stood there, hands in his pockets, his silhouette dark against the city glow.

Then he smiled—small but genuine—and shook his head slightly as if appreciating something he'd been waiting to see.

"My boy," he said quietly to the empty room.

The words hung in the air as the city hummed below, oblivious.

And in the darkness of that hotel room, the man's smile widened just a fraction before he turned away from the window and disappeared into the shadows.

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