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... ey again—dull and flat, like wet paper. A heavy fog clung to the training ground, and every footstep landed with a dull thud on the soaked grass. Players' breaths steamed in the cold morning air.

Simons stood with the ball under his foot, giving sharp, quiet instructions like a coach in disguise. Luka jogged around the cones with his head down. Joel and Dev passed the ball back and forth by the sideline—every touch precise.

No shouting. No music. Just the quiet, steady rhythm of ...

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