[Lukas's PoV]
I woke up slowly, dragged from the world of dreams by a loud banging on the door. My head throbbed lightly, and I almost let myself fall back asleep, hoping the sound was just part of a nightmare. But the pounding didn’t stop, like someone who really didn’t know mercy. Sunlight was already streaming through the worn curtains on my window, filling the room with a light that felt painful. I glanced briefly at the clock on the wall—it was only 10 in the morning. For me, that was practically midnight, especially after the long night I’d spent with a few too many bottles.
With half-open eyes, I slowly stood up, stretching my back that felt sore. The hard floor of my rented room had left a mark on my spine. “How much of a mess was I last night, sleeping here?” I muttered softly, scratching my stiff neck.
“Yeah, yeah, just a sec!” I shouted, limping over to the door. The banging was getting more intense, accompanied by the voice of a girl sounding half-annoyed, half-worried.
“Lukas! It’s me! Hurry up, open the door!”
Ah, a familiar voice. After a few seconds trying to gather the remains of my consciousness, I finally grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open. And there she stood—a petite figure who, despite her small size, filled the space in front of me with her presence. Arunika.
This time, she wasn’t in her usual sportswear but a black suit with a white shirt and a red tie that looked very formal. Like a durian wrapped in gold—still hard and full of spikes. Her signature twintail hairstyle that should’ve looked sweet instead made her seem even bolder. This girl never failed to make me feel uncomfortable.
“Morning, huh?” I tried to smile awkwardly, even though my face still felt half-numb.
“Idiot! Do you know how long I’ve been here knocking on your door, huh?” Her face was red with irritation, her lips pursed in an expression that almost made her look like a child. “Come on, get ready quickly!” she said, glancing at the sporty watch on her wrist.
I just stared at her, still confused, still trying to shake off my sleepiness. “What’s the rush so early?” I asked, my voice still heavy with drowsiness.
She sighed deeply, as if already tired of dealing with me, though the day had only begun. “We have to meet my dad. Remember the agreement we made last night, don’t you?” Her gaze was unyielding, full of determination. “Hurry up, shower, and put on something decent! Our flight leaves in an hour.”
Flight? I thought this was just a short trip, maybe to a nearby city or at most out of town. But a flight? Just how extreme was this girl’s plan?
Seeing me spacing out, Aru snapped her fingers right in front of my face. “Hey! Stop daydreaming!” Suddenly she pushed me back into the room. “Come on, move it!”
“Fine, fine! I get it!” I finally surrendered. Trying to argue with this girl’s shouting and nagging was definitely not the best way to start the day.
As I stepped inside, she stopped in the doorway, looking around my rented room with an undisguised look of shock. “Hey, do you actually have a hobby of collecting dust and trash?”
I just glanced around lazily. The room floor was littered with instant noodle wrappers, empty alcohol bottles, and a layer of dust that almost seemed like part of the décor. “It’s... organized, right?” I muttered, half-joking.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Organized? This is like a museum of chaos!”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead like someone who had already surrendered to a long battle. “We’ll discuss this later. Now hurry up and get ready.”
“Alright.” I grabbed a towel lying on the rickety chair and slowly walked towards the bathroom. But before I could take another step, Aru’s voice stopped me again.
“You still have your passport, right?” she asked as she cautiously stepped over the “landmines” of trash on the floor and then sat at the edge of the bed, which seemed reluctant to bear her weight.
“For what?” I frowned, starting to feel like something was off about this girl’s plan.
“Of course, for going abroad, you dummy,” she replied quickly. She paused for a moment, her face softening slightly, but her gaze remained resolute. “We’re going to the country where you used to play.”
Her words made me freeze. The country where my career had started—and where it had crumbled to pieces. Shadows of the past seemed to appear again, like flashbacks that left a mark in my mind.
“Yep, you heard me.” A small victorious smile appeared on her face. “We’re going to England.”
...Damn.
---
I stood in front of the small mirror in the airport bathroom, staring at my tired and slightly unfamiliar face. The reflection of a Lukas Satria I once knew seemed to have faded from this image. Taking a long breath, I put on my hat and sunglasses, at least to hide myself a bit from the crowd. As I stepped out, Arunika gave me an evaluating look, observing my choice of clothes that clearly didn’t align with her idea of “decent.” Track pants, a T-shirt, and a jacket—for me, this was more than enough. This was just a flight, not a formal event, I thought.
Without much conversation, we went straight to the waiting area. The girl really didn’t give up—like a fierce wind that wouldn’t stop blowing. Some might call her stubborn; I preferred to think of her as someone with too much energy to spare.
On the plane, I dropped into my seat, staring out the window just like that. The sky outside slowly faded, turning into an endless sea of clouds. I knew Arunika was watching me, perhaps wondering what was going through my head. But she was smart enough to let me drown in the silence.
I felt every passing second, every turn of the plane’s wheels now thousands of meters above ground. England. The country that once felt like my second home, where I’d once reached the top of the world, but also witnessed my fall. It felt like fate was toying with me. I’d spent years trying to forget everything that happened there, but now, I was flying back to that place—like being forced to face a truth I’d always avoided.
The long silence between us finally broke when I asked her about her club. Little by little, I started asking about our destination, though I tried to keep my tone as distant as possible. Maybe I was just trying to save face—to keep her from seeing me too open.
“So, what club are you managing with your dad?” I asked, though honestly, I didn’t really want to know. But something in her eyes made me curious. She was too passionate, like someone who had everything on the line.
“Nottingham Forest. You must have heard of them, right?” she replied, her voice sounding proud but with a hint of hesitation.
I looked at her for a moment, then nodded, recalling the times when I often played against that club. “Yeah, they were once giants. Snatching trophies and towering over Europe... but that was back then.” I sighed, memories of old matches briefly crossing my mind. “Now, the club is just a shadow of its past.”
Arunika’s face changed. For a moment, I could see the anger she was trying to hold back—maybe only someone who truly loved their club could show an expression like that. She held herself back from interrupting, only giving a short response, “Yeah... it’s been that way lately.”
I gave a small smile, half wanting to tease her and half trying to understand her dedication to a nearly forgotten club. But before I could ask more, she restrained her answer. “My father will explain more later,” she said, folding her arms, clearly reluctant to discuss it further.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
I just nodded, turning my gaze back out the window. Out there, the sky was no longer bright blue—more gray, almost like the land of England I’d left years ago. Somehow, that brief conversation left a feeling of discomfort. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help, but a strange feeling crept into my chest. Soccer was once my world, my life, and I didn’t know what would happen if I stepped back into it again. Perhaps the old, numbed wounds would start to ache once more.
The rest of the journey passed in silence. Arunika seemed to try closing her eyes, while I continued to stare out, searching for answers among the distant clouds.
After hours of travel, finally the European sky started to appear from above, greeted by classic buildings standing firm, wrapped in shadows of the past that seemed to hold me back from landing. London, Nottingham... names that once felt familiar now seemed strange, but at the same time filled with mixed feelings in my chest.
The plane began to descend, and the view of the city below seemed to welcome us with a small nod. A call I never wanted but couldn’t avoid. England. Welcome back, Lukas Satria.
---
[Arunika's PoV]
I stood at the door of Lukas’s rented room, knocking... or rather, banging relentlessly. The longer I knocked, the more I realized just how deeply this person could sleep. After what felt like an eternity of knocking that left my hand aching, I took a deep breath, pressing my palm against the cold wooden door. How long had I been here? Five minutes? Ten? Noon was almost upon us, and here he was, still cocooned in sleep as if the world had no business with him.
“Lukas! It’s me! Open the door already!” I called out, my voice sounding hoarse with a mixture of frustration and concern. Was he really okay?
Finally, I heard faint footsteps on the other side of the door—slow, lazy, and dragging as if someone were forced to rise from the dead. And when the door opened, there he stood—looking half-alive, or perhaps half-dead. The morning light streaming from the window behind him highlighted a face still crumpled with sleep and slightly surprised, as if he couldn’t believe reality existed outside his door. And goodness, the stale smell of alcohol and smoke clinging to the room added a layer of gloom to his figure.
“Morning, huh?” he muttered with a sheepish grin, his voice sounding like a tape playing in slow motion.
Morning? Seriously? I folded my arms, glaring at him. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been knocking on your door, huh?!” I couldn’t hold back the frustration in my voice, a mix of annoyance and a bit of concern. “Hurry up, get ready!” I added, glancing at my watch with urgency. Time was running out, and honestly, I had no intention of spending my morning waiting for this guy to gather his senses.
He just stood there, his gaze vacant as if he’d just been yanked back to Earth from a far-off planet. “What’s the rush, this early?” he asked, in a tone that made me want to facepalm.
I took a long breath, holding back from giving him a light smack on the cheek. “We have to meet my dad. You remember the agreement we made last night, don’t you?” I glared at him, hoping my gaze could shake some sense into his still-drowsy brain. “Go shower and put on something decent. Our flight leaves in an hour.”
His reaction… nothing. He just stood there with that vacant stare, as if I’d just spoken in an alien language. Watching his gaze drift around like a balloon with no direction, I finally snapped my fingers right in front of his face. “Hey! Stop spacing out! Get moving!” I gave him a gentle push, directing his limp body back into the room, making sure he wouldn’t sneak back to bed.
Once inside, I nearly gasped. I knew he wasn’t the type to care about cleanliness, but this room—oh dear, it looked more like a pigsty than a rental room. Instant noodle wrappers and empty bottles were scattered across the floor, a thick layer of dust covered the table and chairs, and a stale smell assaulted my nose. How could he live here?
“Hey,” I asked, half-joking but genuinely a bit alarmed. “Do you actually enjoy... collecting dust and trash or something?”
He looked around with an oddly proud expression. “It’s organized,” he mumbled quietly, like a kid who’d been caught doodling on the wall but insisted it was art.
I let out a long sigh, rolling my eyes. “Ugh, never mind,” I said, deciding not to get into it. “We’ll deal with this later; for now, just hurry up and get ready.”
With reluctant steps, he finally grabbed a towel from the chair. I watched him, hoping he wouldn’t step on anything that might suddenly explode. But just before he got too far, a thought crossed my mind.
“Lukas,” I called, my voice softer this time, making him stop and turn. “You still have your passport, right?”
He looked at me with raised eyebrows, his expression puzzled, as if I’d just asked him to walk on fire. “What for?” he asked bluntly.
I took a breath, holding back a smile that might seem too smug. “Of course, to go abroad, you dummy.” I paused for a moment, looking at him with a hint of hesitation. “We’re going to the country where you used to play.”
My words froze him in place. His eyes, which had looked so lazy just moments ago, now widened. His expression shifted between surprise, anxiety, and maybe even a bit of dread. The past he’d tried to leave behind seemed to fill the room, like a shadow returning to haunt him.
“Yes, you heard right.” My smile widened, a hint of satisfaction sneaking in. “We’re going to England.”
For a moment, time seemed to stop. He stood there, silent and deep in thought. I knew that for him, England wasn’t just a place—it was both a witness to his greatest achievements and his downfall. England might be the monster he wanted to avoid, but it was also the place that held answers to the questions that might still echo in his life.
---
After a small debate over the definition of “decent clothing”—Lukas insisted on wearing track pants, a t-shirt, and his worn-out jacket that was anything but formal—we finally settled into our seats on the plane. The trip to the airport, which took about 20 minutes plus the procedures and queues, felt like a long test of patience.
But as the plane took off, a sense of relief slowly settled in me. At least for the next 15-17 hours, we weren’t racing against time. Our destination was the land of Queen Elizabeth, where everything would truly begin.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to make the most of the comfort in business class for a little relaxation. Our club, though not in its prime, could still afford these seats—a small luxury I was grateful for.
Beside me, Lukas seemed lost in his own world. Since takeoff, he hadn’t said a word. His gaze was fixed outside the window, watching the sky and the slowly moving clouds. His expression was hard to read; maybe there was nostalgia, maybe regret, or maybe just exhaustion. England was clearly more than just a place for him. It held memories—the good, the bad, and the ones he might wish to forget.
I considered asking him something, but I held back. Maybe he needed space. Sometimes, silence is the most honest language that can be understood. But after what felt like forever, Lukas finally broke the silence. His voice came out with a quiet and calm tone, as if this question had been waiting to be asked for a long time.
“Hey, Aru,” he called softly.
I turned, a little surprised to hear his voice, and looked into his eyes now directed at me. There was something there—uncertainty, maybe curiosity. “Yeah?”
“Tell me about your club,” he said. The sentence was simple, but his tone felt heavy, as if there was something he needed to understand more deeply.
I paused, adjusting to the shift in mood. I hadn’t expected him to ask about it first. A small smile tugged at my lips, and I began to explain, trying to give him enough of a picture, though the details would be clearer when we met with its owner—my father.
“Well... actually, we’re the owners of Nottingham Forest,” I said, waiting for his reaction. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the club, right?”
He looked at me for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah, of course. I played against them a few times back when I was still active. Nottingham Forest... they were once kings of Europe.” Lukas looked at me with a faint smile, but there was a bitter note in his voice. “But now, they’re just a shadow of what they used to be.”
I tried to hold back the sudden surge of anger I felt hearing his comment. My hand balled into a fist without realizing it. Even though I knew our club was struggling, hearing it from someone else—especially Lukas—was still painful. “Y-Yeah... we’ve been going through a tough time these past few years,” I replied reluctantly. A wave of frustration simmered in my chest like a slow-burning fire.
Lukas nodded without much expression. He just stared straight ahead, as if contemplating something. After a while, he spoke again, this time his tone was more neutral. “So, what exactly do you want me to do there?”
I looked at him, feeling slightly annoyed at the indifference in his question, even though his role at the club was crucial. “My father will explain more when we arrive,” I replied curtly. “For now, just enjoy the trip.”
Lukas didn’t reply, only giving a small nod before sinking back into silence. Quietly, I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. That conversation left a small wound in my heart. Not entirely because of his words, but because of the undeniable fact that our club was struggling and needed help to rise again.
The rest of the journey passed mostly in silence, with only occasional small talk about trivial things. Maybe he was trying to chase away lingering shadows in his mind, or maybe just calming himself. Lukas could be annoying sometimes, but it was hard not to feel empathy.
After a long, exhausting 17-hour flight, we finally arrived in the skies over England. Both Lukas and I gazed out the window, observing the cityscape coming into view. The classic buildings, neatly arranged streets, and the calming yet daunting sights of Europe.
“Welcome back,” I murmured quietly, half to myself. For me, this was the
beginning of a new chapter. But for Lukas, it was the past rekindled—a reminder of what once was and a chance to rebuild or be destroyed.
---
Let the game begin.