Joanna simply nodded. "Okay."

They stepped back.

Lukas turned again.

And walked in.

Marco and Javi followed.

The door closed behind them.

The suite was expansive.

Not just large—but layered.

A wide living space opened immediately, with floor-to-ceiling windows stretching along one side, overlooking the city. Munich’s lights spread out below, distant now, softened by height. The interior was a blend of modern design and understated luxury—neutral tones, clean lines, materials that didn’t shout their value but carried it anyway.

A long table sat to one side, set with drinks, untouched.

And near the center—

a man sat.

Composed.

Still. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Waiting.

He rose as they entered.

Measured.

Confident.

Khaldoon Al Mubarak.

He was dressed simply, but precisely—a tailored dark suit, no excess, no distraction. His posture was straight, his movements controlled, his presence immediate without being forceful. His face carried a calm authority, eyes sharp, observant, taking in everything in a single glance.

He stepped forward.

"Lukas," he said, extending his hand.

His voice was smooth, deliberate.

They shook.

He turned slightly, acknowledging Marco, then Javi with equal attention, greeting them with the same composed professionalism.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

There was a brief pause.

Then, with a faint, apologetic tilt of his head, he added,

"I must apologise for the nature of this meeting."

His gaze returned to Lukas.

"It was... impromptu."

The apology lingered for a second longer than it needed to.

Lukas gave a small nod. "It’s no problem."

Khaldoon studied him briefly, as if measuring the response, then gestured toward the seating area with a calm, open hand. "Please—have a seat."

They moved without hesitation, but not without awareness. Lukas sat first, leaning slightly forward as he settled into the couch, his elbows naturally resting on his thighs. Marco took the seat beside him, placing the file carefully on the table in front of them, while Javi remained composed as always, choosing a position that gave him a clear view of both Lukas and Khaldoon.

Khaldoon did not sit immediately.

He stood for a moment, his posture straight, his presence filling the room without force. His eyes moved across them — Lukas, then Marco, then Javi — before he finally took his seat opposite them, composed, deliberate.

"I’m sure you know why I’ve asked you here," he said.

The question wasn’t really a question.

No one answered.

Lukas didn’t move.

Marco remained still.

Javi’s expression didn’t change.

Khaldoon allowed the silence to stretch just long enough before continuing, a faint, almost approving smile touching the corner of his lips.

"We’ve received the go-ahead from your club," he said. "Eintracht Frankfurt have given us permission to approach you directly, to begin discussions regarding a possible transfer."

He leaned back slightly, his hands coming together in front of him.

"I wanted to come myself," he added. "Txiki Begiristain was prepared to handle this, as he normally would, but I felt this situation required something more direct. I wanted you to see, personally, how serious we are about you... and how important we believe you can be to what we are building."

Khaldoon continued, his tone steady but more layered now.

"This season has not gone the way we intended. That is something we accept. But at Manchester City, we do not react—we respond. We rebuild with purpose, and next season, we return to competing on every front. The Premier League, the Champions League, the FA Cup—everything."

His gaze settled fully on Lukas now.

"And for that... we want you."

There was no exaggeration in his voice.

No attempt to oversell.

Just certainty.

"Alongside Erling Haaland."

That landed differently.

Khaldoon didn’t rush past it. Instead, he let the image sit before speaking again, his voice lowering slightly, more conversational now.

"Picture it," he said. "Transition. The ball breaks. You receive it under pressure, maybe just inside your own half. You turn, and before you even look up, he’s already moving—already running into space."

He made a small motion with his hand, tracing an invisible line.

"You slip the pass through."

A pause.

"He finishes."

Another pause.

"Nine times out of ten."

Lukas didn’t speak.

But something shifted.

It wasn’t obvious.

Just a slight narrowing of his eyes.

A small, almost reluctant curve at the corner of his mouth.

Khaldoon noticed it.

Of course he did.

"You would not only be creating chances," he continued, "you would be developing in an environment where every player around you operates at the highest possible level. Every training session. Every match. Every moment."

He leaned forward again, his tone sharpening just slightly.

"And you would be doing that under Pep Guardiola."

That name didn’t need emphasis.

It carried its own.

"Beyond football," Khaldoon added, shifting slightly, "we understand your situation. Your education remains important. We will support that fully—structured scheduling, dedicated time, whatever is required to ensure that nothing is sacrificed."

Lukas exhaled slowly, his fingers interlocking loosely as he leaned back into the couch.

"That... sounds interesting," he said, almost to himself.

Marco caught it immediately.

Khaldoon did too.

Marco leaned forward slightly, his tone now more direct, more business-like.

"We’re aware Atlético Madrid is also in discussions," he said. "So where exactly are you, in terms of compensation?"

Khaldoon didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he stood again.

Walked toward the window.

For a brief moment, he looked out over the city — Munich stretched beneath him, lights flickering, distant and insignificant from this height.

Then he turned back.

"One thing we do not lack," he said calmly, "is the ability to invest in what we believe in."

He stepped closer again.

"Our current position," he continued, "is a base salary of 12.5 million pounds per year. And at least a five-year contract."

The words were delivered without drama.

That made them heavier.

"This would place you among the highest earners at the club," he added. "Once certain adjustments are made within the squad, you would be the 6th highest-paid player. And with the way you’re developing, it won’t take long for you to climb up that list."

Marco didn’t move.

Javi didn’t either.

Lukas simply looked at him.

"That’s about 240 thousand pounds per week," Khaldoon continued.

He let the silence expand around that number.

"This is before bonuses. Before performance incentives. Before any additional agreements."

Atlético’s offer lingered in the background of that moment.

Six million euros.

This—

was in another world.

"That," Khaldoon said quietly, "is our sincerity."

Lukas shifted slightly, his jaw tightening just a fraction.

"That’s a lot of money," he said.

It wasn’t excitement.

It wasn’t disbelief.

It was acknowledgment.

"And a lot of pressure."

Khaldoon nodded once, as if he had been expecting that exact response.

"Pep believes you can handle it," he said. "More than that—he believes he can shape you into a player who thrives under it."

He paused briefly.

Then added, more deliberately,

"He told me something very specific."

Lukas’ eyes lifted.

Khaldoon held his gaze.

"He sees a young Leo in you."

That changed the room.

Not loudly.

But completely.

Lukas didn’t speak.

For a second, he didn’t even move.

Marco’s posture stiffened slightly.

Javi’s eyes flicked toward Lukas, searching his reaction.

Khaldoon saw all of it.

And he didn’t push further.

Instead, he stepped back, allowing the moment to settle.

"I will give you time to think," he said. "Txiki will continue discussions with Marco."

He extended his hand again.

"I hope you choose us."

A faint pause.

"But if you do... I can assure you, you will not regret it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Writ’s Note:

Ladies and Gents!

It has come the time to decide the future of this book!

This is the book of the people so it’ll be moving forward based on the vote of the people!

Unfortunately I currently reside in a country where Discord is banned so I can’t create a discord server. I would have created a Reddit server, but I feel like moderating it would be a pain since Reddit allows whatever to be posted on there and I have a full time job and can’t actively look after it.

So I decided on the next best thing! (Not really but that’s all I could think of!)

YOUTUBE COMMUNITY!

...Yeah, I know... Not the best decision. Forgive me.

But yeah... That’s how it’ll be for now.

Go to: shorturl.at/24tMN and join the community. Remove the brackets from the link.

The poll for Lukas’s next team is already there. Atleti and City are the options for now, but if an option in a comment get enough likes, I’ll consider it.

Have fun.

-Writ.

P.S: I sure hope this works seamlessly cause WebNovel has made it almost impossible to move someone from their site/app to another platform.