"Uncle, is this really the Manchester United contract?" A drowsy Claire dangled a red-bordered letter in his hand, looking at his uncle, Denis Irwin, with disbelief.
But Denis, who had just sent off the courier at the door, wasn't pleased with his nephew's indifferent expression. He promptly kicked Claire in the backside. "This is Sir Alex Ferguson's reward for my 13 years of dedication to United!"
Seeing his uncle winding up for another kick, Claire quickly put on a pitiful face and flattered, "Of course! You and Sir Alex were legendary together. Without you, there'd be no Man United dynasty in the '90s!"
Denis Irwin absolutely loved hearing that. A smug grin spread across his face.
Just as Claire settled on the couch to catch his breath, his uncle suddenly frowned and asked, "Hey, Claire… ever since that thief cracked your head open, you've been acting different."
Claire's muscles tensed instantly. The hairs on his back stood straight up, as if with an audible whoosh.
"You've gotten slick with your words! But that's not a bad thing—at least you won't get pushed around by those arrogant young lads at United." Denis chuckled, happily flipping through Claire's three-game contract. "By the way, what were you doing just standing there after the match today? That tune you were humming was pretty catchy!"
When his uncle didn't press further, Claire exhaled heavily and muttered under his breath, "Speak of the devil…"
Maybe it was because he was back in his own home, but Claire slept like a log. He didn't wake up until the next day, not even stirring when his uncle cleaned up the apartment.
After seeing Denis off, Claire stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth. When he noticed the Disney kids' pajamas his uncle had changed him into, his face flushed red. He grumbled something unintelligible.
Finally, he had time to properly look around the apartment his uncle had bought for him. Though he had some vague memories of this place, he'd never actually seen it before.
Humming a new English song the system had just taught him, Claire meandered toward the fridge, hoping to scrounge up some food.
But as soon as he reached it, his eyes landed on the countless Megan Fox posters plastered all over the fridge door. Claire sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Man, you really were obsessed with her, huh?"
"She left when you were thirteen and never reached out. Not a single letter. And yet you still pined for her?"
"If I remember right, she just finished filming Transformers. You know once that hits next year, she'll be Hollywood's darling—the 'It Girl' everyone loves!"
"And what are you? A nobody. Just a backup defensive midfielder with a three-game trial at United!"
The moment those words left his mouth, Claire's heart clenched violently, as if squeezed by an invisible hand. A sharp, twisting pain shot through his chest, quickly spreading through his entire body.
"Ah—!"
"Ghh—!"
Claire dropped to one knee, one hand bracing against the floor, the other gripping the fridge. Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead, and tears spilled uncontrollably, plinking onto the tiles.
He pressed his forehead against the cold fridge, gritting his teeth. "Damn it… is this the side effect of reincarnation? Is this what 'bond' feels like?"
"F**k! This awful feeling… You're already dead, yet you're still haunting me like some nagging ghost!"
The pain came and went quickly, but Claire refused to cry out. Gasping for breath, he lay limp on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought.
The wall clock in the living room ticked away. Claire had no idea how long he'd been lying there, but by the time he finally pulled himself up, night had fallen outside.
Without a word, he glanced at the Shannen & Holly poster of Megan Fox on the fridge, then grabbed a jar of fruit jam and a sushi cake before bolting out of the kitchen.
But when he reached his bedroom, he froze. The walls were covered in Megan Fox photos and movie stills. On the desk sat a childhood picture of Claire and Megan together.
Claire let out a bitter laugh and picked up the photo. "Tch. So what, if I don't listen to you, I'll just suffer to death, huh?"
"Fine. You win. You're the boss."
"But listen—romance is a skill. We gotta take it slow."
"Don't forget, I've got a system now. If I score just one more goal in an official United match, I'll get another song. With that, we can become a singer, a star!"
"Yeah, Lincoln Park's got that Transformers song now, but mark my words—by the time the sequel rolls around, our song will blow up first, then the movie!"
"And hey, body, work with me here. No more of this 'instinctive bond' crap making me suffer."
"We did great in that friendly against Brighton, didn't we? I could feel your love for football that day."
After rambling to himself for a while, Claire set the jam and cake on the desk. He didn't know if talking helped, but at least his body hadn't acted up again since the fridge incident.