Charles de Gaulle International Terminal was still quiet that morning, yet the air around the departure gate felt heavy—not because of a packed flight schedule, but because of two families standing silently near the check-in area, holding back emotions they didn’t know how to express.

  Duvant stood in a bck hoodie, his backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. His face hadn't changed much—still that of a boy who never seemed to care too much. But his eyes, even though they only occasionally gnced at his parents, said otherwise.

  His mother hugged him tightly."Don’t forget to message us… Even if you’re zy, just let us know you’re okay, Duvant."

  "Yeah, yeah… rex," Duvant mumbled. But this time, his voice was quiet. His eyes weren’t looking around—just fixed on the floor.

  His father patted his shoulder—firm, but warm."Don’t get into trouble. But if you do… take responsibility."

  Duvant only nodded, then without saying anything else, pulled his backpack up and stood beside Reinhart.

  Lucien stood a few steps away from them. His posture was upright, but his eyes carried hesitation. His mother, a petite woman of Japanese descent, gently straightened the colr of his jacket. She said nothing. She just looked at Lucien deeply, as if trying to memorize his face for a long, long time.

  His father slipped a small notebook into Lucien’s hand."Write down everything you see. Sometimes the world won’t understand what you think. But that doesn’t mean you have to stop thinking it."

  Lucien gave his parents a quick hug—almost like he was trying to escape the sadness. Then he walked toward Reinhart, standing on the opposite side of Duvant.

  Reinhart looked at his watch."It’s time."

  They walked toward the immigration gate, carrying small suitcases—and one big question:What kind of life was waiting for them in Engnd?

  Behind them, Lorient stood among the parents, watching as Reinhart led the two boys toward the pne. He stood tall, hands in his coat pockets, the long coat swaying in the air from the airport’s air conditioning.

  When their figures finally disappeared behind the boarding gate, Lorient let out a deep sigh.

  "What a shame… that crazy genius Reinhart is leaving."

  The sentence lingered like an echo in the terminal hallway, along with the announcement of the flight to London—and the beginning of a journey for two young men who just might change the fate of a dying club. No—not just a club. The world.