Claire Lee left the team at four in the morning the next day.
The departure time was Claire's own choice—he wasn't fond of farewells.
Since Claire was a loaned player from Manchester United, there was no official announcement, no press coverage, and no grand send-off when he left.
His uncle, Dennis, was waiting outside the Queens Park Rangers' dormitory entrance, leaning against a black Volkswagen. The car radio was blaring advertisements for a movie Michael Bay had just finished filming, but Dennis Irwin clearly wasn't paying attention. Instead, he stood with one hand resting on the car door and the other holding a cigarette, grinning at his nephew.
Claire hadn't even bothered to change out of his Queens Park Rangers jersey. A stuffed travel backpack hung from his shoulders.
Though they'd often talked on the phone, this was the first time Claire was meeting his uncle face-to-face, and he couldn't help feeling a little nervous.
"So, kid, tell your old uncle—how are you feeling right now?"
The casual tone instantly put Claire at ease.
But instead of answering, Claire turned and took one last look at the dark, silent club gates behind him.
If he was being honest, he wasn't sure whether his feelings for the club were more about affection or reluctance. After all, he'd only been here—and in this new life—for less than a month.
The old Claire might have cried at leaving. But the new Claire? He was mostly just anxious and uncertain. He had no idea how far this system of his could take him. Sure, he had a plan, but plans were just that—plans.
If some reporter suddenly popped up and asked him whether he had any emotional attachment to Queens Park Rangers, Claire honestly wouldn't know what to say.
His mind was a mess, with the memories of his past life and his current one constantly clashing.
Rebirth wasn't exactly a smooth process—who'd believe there'd be no side effects?
Noticing his nephew's conflicted expression, Dennis pulled him into a rough hug and patted his shoulder.
"You haven't changed a bit, you little rascal!"
"But listen—life's just like this. You meet people, you say goodbye, and it keeps going until the very end."
"And in our line of work? It's even more like that. So you'd better grow up fast!"
The unexpected wisdom hit Claire harder than he'd expected. For the first time, he looked his uncle in the eye and spoke.
"Yeah… thanks, Uncle."
"Ah, save the formalities. Heard your wages got stolen? Here's a thousand quid—make it last."
Dennis tossed an envelope into the back seat. Claire's eyes reddened the moment he saw it.
This was his first real money since his rebirth.
Some people earned their first fortune through business, sales, or entrepreneurship. Claire? His came straight from his uncle's pocket.
Technically, as a loanee from Manchester United's U19 reserves, Claire's contract was still with United—Queens Park Rangers didn't pay him. If not for his uncle's connections, he wouldn't even be getting the £125 weekly stipend.
Not that Claire knew any of that.
Sitting in the back seat, he greedily inhaled the scent of money from the envelope.
Luckily, Dennis was too focused on driving to notice. If he had, he might've grown suspicious—the old Claire had been a hardworking, football-obsessed kid, not someone who'd sniff cash like it was oxygen.
Claire had no idea where Old Trafford was, but his uncle got them there in just four hours.
The stadium was buzzing even in the early morning. Reporters, scouts, and youth players swarmed the area—some snapping photos, others pacing in United jerseys, and a few rushing in from the team bus like they were late for a morning market.
But Dennis and Claire had no time to soak in the atmosphere. After driving all night, Dennis's bloodshot eyes scanned the crowd before he turned to Claire.
"Let's go. Your apartment. I'll crash there for the morning—got a Rooney interview tonight."
Claire, hugging a football and yawning, nodded sleepily.
"United gave you a week off to adjust. But honestly? Use it to get your face around the team. They just barely beat Spurs 1-0 on the 9th, and the match against Arsenal on the 17th? You might actually get playtime. Seven days 'off' just means seven days to make an impression."
Despite his exhaustion, Dennis grew more animated the more he talked about football. Claire listened the whole way, absorbing every word.
The gist of it?
"Ferguson's dead serious this year. United's got a real shot at dethroning Chelsea."
"They say that every year," Claire muttered inwardly.
"Roy Keane left mid-season. Right before your match, United signed England midfielder Michael Carrick from Spurs as his replacement."
"Rumor is it cost £18 million. Honestly? Best bit of business the club's done in a decade."
"Should be official in a day or two. Your status will be updated on the site then."
At the mention of money, Claire perked up.
"Uncle… what about my wages?"
"You? You're just a lucky kid with a three-game trial. Blow this chance, and you'll be back with your old pals in no time."
Claire scratched his nose awkwardly at the teasing.
Soon enough, they arrived at the apartment Dennis had bought for Claire using his parents' compensation money.
"Old Trafford Apartment No. 4."
The name nearly made Claire groan out loud.
At least the building looked high-end, with tight security and a polished appearance—enough to keep his complaints at bay.
The elevator to the 8th floor was fast. The moment Dennis hit the button, they were whisked up.
Exhausted, they stumbled inside, collapsed onto their respective beds, and passed out without another word.
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