Become A Football Legend-Chapter 241: Stay In

Later that Tuesday evening.

The cabin hummed with that steady, muted roar that only airplanes had, the kind that settled into the background after a while and made time feel suspended.

Lukas sat by the window, Frankfurt tracksuit zipped halfway up, legs stretched as far as economy seating allowed. His iPad rested on the fold-out table, headphones on, as he watched Alfie Potts Harmer make another Freddy Adu joke at the intro of the video on the 7 worst stadiums to ever be built.

Behind him, Ekitike had already surrendered to the flight. A sleep mask covered his eyes, head tilted slightly to one side, breathing slow and even. In front, Koch scrolled endlessly on his phone, thumb flicking up every few seconds, occasionally shaking his head at whatever he was reading.

The video was winding down when the phone on the mini table in front of Lukas vibrated, the screen lighting up softly in the dim cabin. He paused the video and picked it up.

Marco: "I’ve had a conversation with the CEO. Let’s talk during the weekend."

Lukas read it twice, exhaled, then typed a short reply before setting the phone back down. He barely had time to refocus on the frozen YouTube frame before the phone lit up again, this time ringing.

He glanced at the screen and smiled as he accepted the call.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Have you landed already?" Joanna asked.

"No," Lukas replied, leaning his head back against the seat. "Still about thirty minutes. Maybe a bit more."

She laughed softly. "I figured. I just wanted to hear your voice."

He smiled wider at that. "You’re already in Manchester in your head, aren’t you?"

"Completely," she admitted. "We’re coming Thursday morning. João, your dad, all of us. I’m excited... and a bit nervous."

"I’m looking forward to seeing you," Lukas said. "More than the match, honestly."

There was a brief pause, then her voice softened. "I’ve seen the comments, you know. United fans, City fans... everyone talking. The interview, the transfer stuff. I just wanted to check if you’re okay."

"I’m fine," he said, without hesitation. "Really. Let them talk. Thursday will do the answering."

She hummed quietly, unconvinced but reassured enough. "Just remember, whatever happens, I’m proud of you."

Lukas glanced out the window at the dark sky beyond the wing. "That means more than you think."

They talked a little longer, about small things, about the flight, about how cold Manchester would probably be, about nothing important at all. Eventually, reluctantly, they said their goodbyes.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he whispered back to her.

The call ended. Lukas set the phone down, looked around to make sure non of his teammates were eavesdropping on his conversation with his girlfriend, put his headphones back on, and unpaused the video, Alfie’s voice filling his ears again as the plane continued its steady descent toward Manchester.

* * *

The plane touched down just after dusk, the sky over Manchester washed in that deep blue that came right before full night. It was around seven when the Frankfurt squad moved through the airport, ushered quickly through a secure lounge, heads down, hoods up. There were no crowds waiting, no cameras flashing. If anything, it felt almost too quiet. Word would spread later that most fans had expected them the following day, not this early. For now, they slipped through unnoticed.

The team bus waited just outside, engines humming softly. Bags were loaded with practiced efficiency and within minutes they were rolling through the city, streetlights streaking past the windows. Lukas sat back, watching Manchester reveal itself in fragments, bridges and glass buildings, old brick giving way to steel and neon. It felt unfamiliar, heavy with history, and yet strangely calm at this hour.

They arrived at The Lowry Hotel through the underground entrance, shielded again from any outside attention. An entire floor had been reserved for the team. Keycards were handed out, instructions repeated, schedules confirmed. Dinner followed soon after in a private dining area. Nothing extravagant, just carefully portioned plates, protein-heavy, carbs measured, hydration emphasized. The mood was relaxed but contained. Jokes were quieter. Laughter never quite lingered.

Toppmöller stood up once the plates were cleared, resting his palms lightly on the table as the room quieted on instinct.

"Alright," he said, eyes moving slowly across the room. "Tomorrow is not a sightseeing trip. We go to Old Trafford, we train, we get a feel for the pitch, and we come back here. Light session. Sharp minds. That’s it."

A few players nodded. Someone hummed in agreement. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"You sleep early tonight," he continued. "I want legs fresh and heads clear. No excuses. We’ve done the hard work already, now we protect it."

Then his gaze stopped.

Uzun.

He held it there for a second too long.

Uzun noticed and broke into a grin. "Why are you looking at me like that, coach?"

A few chuckles rippled through the room.

Toppmöller didn’t smile. "Because," he said calmly, "no one leaves this hotel tonight."

The laughter grew louder.

Uzun lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Coach, I was just going to get some air."

"Air is available in your room," Toppmöller replied dryly. That finally earned him a smile from a few players.

He straightened up. "Seriously. Stay in. Rest. We need every bit of focus we have."

With that, he gave a short nod and turned toward the exit. One by one, the coaches followed him out, the door closing softly behind them and leaving the players alone again.

That was when Uzun started looking at Lukas.

Not subtly either. Just a long, knowing stare from across the table, eyebrows raised, mouth twitching like he was holding back a grin. Lukas noticed immediately and rolled his eyes.

"No," Lukas said flatly.

Uzun leaned back in his chair, unbothered. "I didn’t say anything."

"You didn’t have to," Lukas replied.

Knauff joined in from Lukas’s left, lowering his voice. "Come on. We’re in Manchester. One night. We won’t even be late."

Larsson nodded along, pretending to stretch but clearly listening. "You’ve got a whole career of being responsible ahead of you. This is character building."

Lukas laughed under his breath. "That’s the worst argument I’ve ever heard."

They kept at it anyway, layering joke on joke, promise on promise. No clubs. No stupid stuff. Just a bit of the city. In and out. Lukas held firm for a while, but eventually sighed and leaned back.

"How would you even do this without getting caught?"

Uzun’s smile widened. "Already handled. Spoke to one of the hotel guys when they were showing us around. Underground entrance. Twenty minutes."

Lukas stared at him. "You’re unbelievable."

"Twenty minutes," Uzun repeated. "Or we leave without you."

They disappeared soon after, leaving Lukas alone in his room. He stood there for a moment, weighing it. Then he opened his wardrobe.

Twenty minutes later, Larsson was already shifting his weight near the underground exit, glancing at his watch for the third time.

"He’s bailing," Larsson muttered.

Knauff shrugged. "I give it another thirty seconds."

Footsteps echoed down the corridor.

They all turned.

A/N: Korybiant with the Luxury Car! Thank you so much for the gift man. I really appreciate!!