Claire sat alone in the stands of Old Trafford's training ground late at night, watching the Manchester United A and B teams train under the watchful eye of Sir Alex Ferguson.
Though he hadn't been participating in training these past few days, he'd heard plenty from Park Ji-sung about the antics of substitute defender Gabriel Heinze.
Since successfully suppressing Claire on the pitch, Heinze had won the backing of United's higher-ups—but at the cost of becoming a tabloid target. In less than two weeks, he'd earned himself the label of "the rookie bully."
Claire knew this was his uncle's doing. While Ferguson couldn't openly take sides for the sake of team harmony, he'd made sure to pull a few strings behind the scenes to teach Heinze a lesson.
Yet, despite the backlash, Heinze had still been named captain for the upcoming away match against Newcastle and would handle post-match press duties—a decision that had long been common knowledge within the squad.
Not everyone was happy about it, though. Cristiano Ronaldo was the most vocal critic, but with United on a winning streak and his own reputation improving, he kept his complaints private—instead quietly egging Wayne Rooney on to lead the resistance.
The root of the tension? Heinze's open disdain for Claire, whom he'd labeled a "nepo baby."
If not for veteran Ryan Giggs stepping in to mediate, even tonight's training match might've fallen apart.
The memory of Heinze smugly slipping on the captain's armband made Claire's fists clench. I'd love to knock that smirk off his face.
But assistant coach Mike Phelan had privately assured him that Heinze would likely be shipped out in the winter transfer window. The thought brought Claire some comfort.
"Should I just do what Costa's asking? Ugh, this is driving me crazy."
Claire wandered aimlessly around Old Trafford, following street signs without a destination. He had no idea how long he'd been walking or where he'd ended up.
"Maybe I'll play along for now… then ditch him the second I don't need him anymore?"
He crouched by the curb, arms crossed, lost in thought.
After a while, he stood up, frowning, and patted his chest and head.
"Seriously? Now you're gonna ghost me?"
Annoyed, he marched over to what he thought was a lamppost and kicked the metal bar hard.
BANG!
Turns out, it wasn't a lamppost—it was the illuminated sign of a fast-food joint.
And unlike Claire's assumptions, the sign wasn't bolted on very securely.
With a heavy thud, the entire structure came crashing down.
Claire barely dodged in time, instinctively darting into the shadows to avoid being seen.
He peeked around cautiously.
Across the street stood the London branch of the Royal Bank of Scotland. Despite the bright lights behind it, the area was eerily quiet.
"Thank god I'm just some nobody who's played one Premier League game. If I were Ronaldo, this'd be front-page news tomorrow. Headline: 'United's New Star in Meltdown, Vandalizes Local Business.' Heh… maybe I do have a future in journalism."
Just as he finished muttering to himself, the bank's doors—which should've been closed hours ago—creaked open.
A masked figure, moving even more suspiciously than Claire, poked his head out.
"False alarm. Probably just the wind knocking something over. Get the truck ready—we're moving out."
Within minutes, a grimy garbage truck rolled into the street.
Then, like a scene from a heist movie, a stream of masked men emerged from the bank, each hauling bulky black sacks—some so heavy they required both hands.
Claire's jaw dropped.
"You've gotta be kidding me. The one time I go out, I stumble onto a bank robbery?"
His whispered disbelief went unnoticed. One robber even joked, "Should've grabbed a bigger truck. This one's packed tighter than a London subway."
Laughter followed.
Two of the men, having finished loading their share, started walking toward Claire's hiding spot.
Miraculously, they didn't spot him behind the dumpster.
Unfortunately, they also didn't consider him an audience worth avoiding.
They unbuckled their belts right in front of him.
"Y'know, that actress was fine. If we had time, I'd have loved a taste."
"Dream on. Boss would skin you alive if you left evidence for the pigs."
"Pretty sure she's the lead in that Transformers trailer. Shame."
"Wanna take her with us? You ask the boss, though. If I suggest it, he'll chew me out again."
"Fine, I'll go. Damn, how much whiskey did you drink? You're taking forever—you jerkin' off over there?"
"Piss off."
The sound of running water didn't last long.
As soon as his buddy left, the robber gave a final shake and turned to leave—
—only for Claire to seize his chance.
The moment the man's back was turned, Claire lunged.