The next morning, Lukas woke slowly.
For a few seconds, he simply stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above him while his mind adjusted to where he was. Then the mories of the previous day returned all at once.
Manchester.
The contract signing.
The dia day.
The number seventeen shirt.
Manchester City.
He turned slightly toward the other side of the bed and noticed imdiately that Joanna was already gone. Lukas pushed himself upright and stretched slowly, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers while his muscles complained faintly from the previous day’s training.
The soreness was still there.
But it was different now.
Manageable.
The first days of the physicality-focused LTC sessions had nearly destroyed him. At the beginning, he had needed eight full hours of recovery lying almost motionless inside the LTC before he could move properly again afterward.
Now it had gone down to five.
Still absurd by normal standards, but it was progress.
Lukas bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, flexed his arms again, then smiled slightly to himself.
"I’m getting used to this."
He walked over toward the massive windows and pulled the curtains apart. Morning sunlight imdiately flooded into the apartnt, illuminating the entire room while Manchester stretched out beneath him.
The city was already alive.
Cars moved through the streets below, trams rolled along their tracks, and people hurried through the morning beneath the glass towers surrounding Deansgate. Frankfurt had always felt structured and composed to him.
Manchester felt louder.
Faster.
More restless.
Lukas checked the ti on his phone.
9:30 a.m.
He had completely slept in.
Not surprising after the previous day.
Eventually, he left the room and stepped into the living area, where the sll of breakfast imdiately hit him. João and Javi were already awake, sitting near the television while so morning sports show played quietly in the background.
"Morning," Lukas said as he walked in.
João looked over imdiately. "Finally. Sleeping Beauty awakens."
Javi laughed softly from beside him. "You were exhausted yesterday."
Lukas nodded slightly while glancing around the apartnt. "Where’s Jo?"
"She went out earlier," João replied. "Said she needed to buy sothing."
Lukas simply nodded. "Alright."
Then his eyes drifted toward the breakfast spread laid out neatly on the counter.
"Wait," he asked, "who made all this?"
"A waitress dropped it off earlier," Javi explained. "Apparently the club arranged als through the apartnt managent while you’re settling in."
Lukas blinked once. "Is this a hotel or an apartnt?"
Javi shrugged slightly. "Probably just temporary support until you get fully settled."
Lukas shook his head lightly while looking at the food again.
"They really think about everything."
A few minutes later he disappeared briefly to brush his teeth and freshen up before returning to eat with them. The atmosphere in the apartnt was calm now that the madness of the previous day had passed.
At least for the mont.
João leaned back into the couch and looked toward Lukas. "So what are we doing today?"
Lukas frowned imdiately. "Whose ’we’?"
João pointed at himself proudly. "We."
"Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for preseason?"
João waved the concern away imdiately. "Not yet. I still have ti."
Then he grinned.
"I’m following you to Arica. I want to watch the Club World Cup."
Lukas laughed despite himself. "You just want free travel."
"That too."
"Fine. No problem."
Right then, Lukas’ phone started vibrating violently on the table beside him. Then again. And again. And again.
He glanced at the screen.
10:00 a.m.
Imdiately, he understood.
"The announcent dropped."
João leaned over instantly while Lukas unlocked the phone.
The screen was complete chaos.
Instagram notifications, ssages, ntions, tags, reposts, reactions, edits, fan accounts, football pages, journalists, all flooding in at once faster than he could properly process them. His follower count was climbing almost in real ti, the number visibly ticking upward every few seconds.
Then the verified notifications started appearing.
Erling Haaland followed him first.
A few seconds later ca Jeremy Doku.
After that, the rest started flooding in rapidly—Foden, Savinho, Rico Lewis, O’Reilly Jas Trafford, Rayan Cherki, and several other City players following him almost one after another.
João whistled from beside him. "Okay... that’s actually crazy, are they all on their phones right now? Don’t they have things to do over there?
"For so of them it’s probably the people who run their social dia," Lukas replied quietly while following most of them back. But even while the notifications kept pouring in, his attention slowly shifted elsewhere.
To X.
He opened the app and imdiately saw the announcent pinned everywhere.
Manchester City’s official post had already exploded.
The reveal video.
The number seventeen shirt.
The signing pictures.
Everything.
And beneath it—
chaos.
Pure football discourse.
So fans were celebrating like the club had just signed the next Ballon d’Or winner.
Others were convinced the move was a disaster waiting to happen.
"£77 million for a sixteen-year-old with six months of top-flight football. Football has lost its mind."
"Pep is gonna turn another street baller into a robotic midfielder."
"He’s too young for the Premier League. They’ll kill him physically."
"Bro is going to eat bench behind Foden, Cherki, Doku, Savinho and Haaland."
"People comparing him to Yamal after one good season 😭"
"This kid is either winning the Ballon d’Or in five years or this transfer is gonna age horrifically."
"Manchester City don’t spend this kind of money unless they think he’s special."
"Bundesliga tax about to hit HARD."
"The Premier League is different. Let’s see him do it on a rainy night at Wolves."
"Pep Guardiola is finished anyway."
The transfer fee itself had beco a massive talking point too.
Nearly every major football account had posted so variation of the sa thing:
Manchester City sign Lukas Brandt from Eintracht Frankfurt for £77 million plus bonuses.
Seventy-seven million pounds.
For a sixteen-year-old.
Lukas scrolled through all of it quietly, the corners of his mouth slowly curling upward.
Because beneath all the criticism, all the doubt, all the argunts—
he could feel it.
The pressure.
The expectations.
The challenge.
And honestly?
He loved it.
* * *
The television in the Jackson apartnt was loud enough to fill the living room.
Not blaring.
Just present.
Sky Sports dominated the screen while the bright yellow BREAKING NEWS banner still stretched across the bottom.
MANCHESTER CITY COMPLETE £77M DEAL FOR LUKAS BRANDT
Jane sat on the couch with her legs folded beneath her, eyes fixed completely on the television.
On screen, the discussion panel continued.
Jamie Carragher leaned back slightly in his chair while another clip of Lukas played behind them.
"I’m telling you right now," Carragher said, pointing toward the replay monitor, "the talent is obvious. Nobody debates that. The question is whether this move is happening too early."
The screen behind them showed the Nations League semi-final against Portugal.
Lukas receiving the ball near midfield.
Turning.
Driving forward.
One Portuguese player beaten.
Then another.
Then another.
***********
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