Larsson nodded, satisfied. "Good. Because if you left, I'd have to actually start passing the ball forward instead of to you."

They both laughed, the kind of easy laughter that came from shared goals and long training sessions. Lukas set his phone aside, watching as Larsson went back to stretching his hamstrings.

"You know," Larsson said after a moment, "Fabrizio's probably talking about something else. Maybe Frankfurt are extending your deal or something. Just don't overthink it."

"I won't," Lukas replied, leaning back against the wall. "Whatever it is, I'll find out soon enough."

The two continued their stretches in quiet rhythm. Lukas's phone buzzed again beside him — thousands more comments piling up beneath Fabrizio's post — but he ignored it this time.

Whatever the world thought it knew, Lukas was focused on recovery, on the next match, and on enjoying the present with his teammates.

As the evening stretched on, the soft murmur of conversation in the recovery room was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

Dino Toppmöller stepped in, his hands tucked behind his back, that calm yet commanding presence immediately shifting the atmosphere.

"Alright, lads," he said, his voice firm but warm, "that's enough scrolling and chatting for now. Come on, everyone together."

The players gathered around — some still stretching, others with towels draped around their shoulders. Lukas and Hugo Larsson exchanged a quick glance before standing up and joining the small circle forming near the center.

Toppmöller looked around the group, eyes landing briefly on each player.

"First of all," he began, "you all did exceptionally well last night. It wasn't just a win; it was a statement. You fought with maturity, intelligence, and unity. That's what defines us."

A few players nodded. Others smiled faintly. The fatigue from the previous night's match was still there, but so was the quiet pride.

He continued, "Now, I know recovery days can be lazy ones, but we move quickly. We've got Bochum away on Sunday. Departure's at 12:30 sharp tomorrow, so I expect everyone here by 11:00. Don't be late. We'll do light training in the morning before we head out."

A few cheers and chuckles went around. Toppmöller smiled faintly. "Yes, yes, I know. You've earned the morning off, so make sure you sleep in. Jean, no partying. Your sleeping hours are gonna be tracked, at least 8 hours or you'll be fined."

"Coach! It's Ansgar you should be worried about! He's the one who drags me there," Bahoya lamented.

"What nonsense are you spouting right now?" Knauff asked as he tried to put the Frenchman in a headlock but Bahoya escaped.

"That's enough, you all just keep your head in the game. Even if you're not getting minutes now, with the tight schedule, I'll need you all in top form to rotate the squad. And I don't have to explain how important rest is, do I?"

"No, Coach," the players responded.

"Good, now finish your sessions and get some rest. I'll see you all tomorrow."

The players began dispersing again, returning to their stretches or grabbing water bottles. As the group broke apart, Toppmöller's voice came again, this time softer.

"Lukas, a word?"

Lukas turned, a bit surprised, but nodded and followed the coach out of the room. The hallway outside was quieter, the buzz of the ProfiCamp fading behind them. They walked a short distance toward Toppmöller's office before the coach stopped and leaned lightly against the wall.

"Tell me, Lukas," he began, folding his arms, "how are you finding things here? The club, the training… the environment?"

Lukas tilted his head slightly, considering his answer. "It's been great, honestly. Everyone's been supportive. The fans are incredible. I feel at home here."

Toppmöller nodded slowly, his eyes steady. "Good to hear. And your studies? You're keeping up?"

A small smile tugged at Lukas's lips. "Yeah, I'm managing. It's a bit of a juggle sometimes, but I've got help from the tutors the club arranged."

"Excellent." The coach paused, his tone turning slightly more probing. "And your career… how do you feel about where things are heading? Are you satisfied with your progress here?"

Lukas could tell what the question really meant. Rumors, transfers, agents — it was part of the game. He met Toppmöller's gaze directly. "I am. Completely. I'm not thinking of leaving, if that's what you're asking. I want to keep growing here. With this team."

The coach studied him for a moment, then smiled. It wasn't just relief — it was pride. "That's good to hear, Lukas. Very good. You've got something special, and this club wants to help you become even better."

Lukas nodded. "Thank you, coach."

Toppmöller pushed off the wall, giving the young player a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Go on then. Finish your recovery. You've earned a bit of rest."

As Lukas turned to walk back toward the recovery room, Toppmöller watched him go, that small, contented smile still on his face.

He knew it wouldn't always be easy keeping a player like Lukas Brandt — the kind of talent that made even Europe's giants pay attention. But for now, at least, his best player was still theirs — grounded, loyal, and happy to stay.

* * *

The clock on the wall ticked softly above the hum of the heater. Lukas stood by his bed, folding a few shirts neatly into a small black duffel bag. The quiet of the night wrapped around the room — the kind of calm that came before another matchday trip. Outside, Frankfurt's skyline shimmered faintly through the rain-streaked window, the streets below almost empty.

His phone, plugged in across the living room, began vibrating faintly. Once. Then again. Then again. Within seconds, the vibrations grew relentless, followed by the faint chime of multiple message notifications piling up one after another.

He glanced at the door, frowning slightly, but ignored it. Probably the group chat again, he thought, zipping up the bag and reaching for his jacket. But then the buzzing grew louder, joined now by the sharp ring of an incoming call.

He sighed and walked into the living room. The phone screen was lit up with dozens of unread messages — his WhatsApp icon blinking with double digits, Instagram DMs flooding in, notifications from Twitter, and a missed call from Marco. And then, before he could even unlock the phone, the screen lit up again: Marco calling.

Lukas swiped immediately. "Hey, Marco, what's going on? You're blowing up my phone."

"Lukas," Marco said, his voice tight, quick, almost breathless, "have you seen what Fabrizio just posted?"

Lukas blinked. "Fabrizio? No. What'd he post now?"

"Check Instagram," Marco said. "Right now."

Curious and a little uneasy, Lukas opened the app. The first thing he saw was Fabrizio Romano's profile picture, glowing red with a new story. He tapped it.

The video began mid-sentence — Fabrizio in his usual set-up with the camera positioned like he was recording it himself, eyes bright behind his glasses, speaking fast as usual.

"Exclusive: Bayern Munich are ready to table a €115 million deal — including add-ons — to sign 16-year-old Eintracht Frankfurt sensation Lukas Brandt this summer. The German record champions view Brandt as a generational talent and long-term cornerstone of their project after Thomas Müller and Leroy Sané's expected departures.

There's also interest from Atlético Madrid, who have discussed him as a potential replacement for Griezmann , and Manchester City — with Pep Guardiola personally appreciating the youngster's profile. More to follow in the coming weeks and months."

The video ended, cutting to a still image of Lukas with his Player of the Match trophy from the night before, the caption reading simply: "Here we go soon?"

Lukas stared at the screen for a long second, the words taking a moment to settle in. "Wait— what?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Marco said quickly. "This is the first I'm hearing about any of it. Bayern never mentioned an actual bid during our meeting. Not even a hint. They talked about interest, yes — about vision and opportunity — but no numbers, no official offer."

Lukas rubbed the back of his neck, pacing slowly around the coffee table. "Do you think Frankfurt will accept something like that?"

"I don't know yet," Marco admitted. "It's a ridiculous amount of money. No club just ignores an offer like that. But I'll speak to Markus Hardung as soon as possible to make your stance clear. You're not looking to leave, right?"

"No," Lukas said without hesitation. "I'm not."

"Good," Marco replied, though his tone stayed tense. "Then I'll handle it. As for Atlético and City — this is the first I've heard of their supposed interest too. I'll dig into it tonight and get back to you once I know what's real and what's just noise."

"Alright," Lukas said quietly. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about any of this," Marco said, his voice softening. "Focus on your football. Let me deal with the chaos."

"Got it."

"Good. Now get some sleep, Lukas. It's going to be a long night — for me, at least."

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