Chapter 405: DR

The Manchester City dressing room was already alive by the time Pep Guardiola reached the door.

Players were scattered everywhere, half-changed, laughing, checking their phones, replaying goals, sending messages, answering family, soaking in the aftermath in their own little corners. Cherki sat in front of his locker with one boot off and his phone in both hands, smiling at whatever clip he was watching. Doku was leaning against the wall, still talking through one of the goals with O’Reilly. Donnarumma had a towel around his neck and was laughing with Dias and Khusanov, while Foden sat with his socks rolled down, shaking his head every few seconds as though the match was still playing in front of his eyes.

Haaland, meanwhile, was standing beside Rodri with his phone held out in selfie mode.

"Come on, Ballon d’Or pose," Haaland said, throwing an arm over Rodri’s shoulder.

Rodri gave him a dry look.

"I won one tackle. Calm down."

"You won the midfield," Haaland replied. "Same thing."

Rodri eventually gave in, and Haaland took the picture with a grin just as the dressing-room door opened again.

Pep walked in first.

Lukas followed behind him.

The reaction was immediate.

The room erupted into applause.

It started with Bernardo Silva clapping from the middle of the room, then spread instantly, players rising from benches, banging lockers, whistling, shouting, laughing. Lukas stopped for half a second at the entrance, almost embarrassed by the force of it, still carrying the match ball under one arm and the player of the match award in his other hand. Then Haaland shouted his name, and the whole room got even louder.

"Speech!" Doku yelled.

"No speech," Lukas said quickly, shaking his head.

That only made them clap harder.

One by one, players came toward him. Dias patted him firmly on the back. Rodri pulled him into a brief hug. Foden rubbed both hands over his hair, laughing when Lukas tried to duck away. O’Reilly grabbed his shoulders and told him he had just ruined half of Manchester’s weekend. Even Donnarumma came over and lifted him slightly off the ground in a hug that made everyone laugh.

Bernardo waited until the first wave had passed before stepping in front of him with a wounded expression.

"If you had told me you planned on scoring a hat-trick today, I would have added you to my FPL."

Lukas looked at him without missing a beat.

"Your loss. I’m in my FPL."

The dressing room burst out laughing.

Haaland turned sharply from beside Rodri.

"Look at this cheeky boy. So you knew?"

Lukas shrugged.

"I believed in myself."

"No wonder you had a night for goals," Haaland said, pointing accusingly at him. "Did you triple captain yourself?"

"No," Lukas replied. "I captained you, actually. So I should still get a decent number of points."

Haaland blinked, then placed one hand dramatically on his chest.

"Respect."

Lukas smiled wider.

"But if I had known I would score this much, I would have triple captained myself."

Bernardo shook his head.

"Selfish. Very selfish."

"Don’t worry," Lukas said, shifting the match ball under his arm. "Next time I plan to perform like this, I’ll let you know."

Bernardo nodded solemnly.

"Good. That is all I ask."

Lukas paused.

"Actually, no. Forget that. Just make sure I’m in your team every week, because I plan to perform like this every week."

The room erupted again.

Pep, who had been watching from near the centre of the dressing room with his arms folded, laughed as he stepped forward.

"That," he said, pointing at Lukas, "is what I like to hear."

The laughter slowly settled as Pep moved into the middle of the room. He did not need to shout. The players quietened almost immediately, the celebration still buzzing around them but now folding into focus. Guardiola looked around at all of them, from the starters to the substitutes, from the senior players to the academy boys who had been part of the matchday group.

"I am happy," he said. "Very happy. Not only because of the score, not only because it is United, not only because of the goals. I am happy because of how we played. We lost two games before today, and everybody spoke. Everybody had opinions. Everybody wanted to know what was wrong with Manchester City. Today, you answered on the pitch."

He walked slowly as he spoke, his eyes moving from one player to another.

"The intensity was there. The passion was there. But also the control. That is important. We did not play like crazy people. We played with emotion, yes, but with intelligence. Rodri, Bernardo, you killed the spaces. Defenders, excellent. Khusanov, very good. Nico, very brave. Gigi, when they had the chance, you were there. And the players in attack..." Pep turned slightly toward Haaland, Foden, Doku, Cherki and Lukas. "You enjoyed the game, but you also worked. That is why we win like this."

Haaland nodded, still sitting with his elbows on his knees.

Pep’s expression sharpened slightly.

"But this is one game. A beautiful game, yes. A derby, yes. A game the fans will remember, yes. But still one game. Tomorrow, rest. Enjoy tonight, recover properly, stay smart. Tuesday we come back for open training, and we go again."

There were nods around the room.

Nobody argued.

Nobody needed reminding that the season had only just begun.

Pep then glanced toward Lukas again.

"You have not played in the Champions League yet, right?"

Lukas looked up.

"No."

Pep smiled faintly.

"Good. Then make sure you are ready. It is going to be a big occasion for you."

The room made a few approving noises, some of the older players smirking as though they knew exactly what kind of night was waiting. Champions League football had its own weight, its own music, its own electricity. Lukas had watched it his whole life, dreamed of it in both lifetimes, imagined walking out beneath those lights with the anthem echoing around a stadium.

Now it was close.

Very close.

He nodded, unable to stop himself from smiling.

"I’ll be ready."

Pep held his gaze for a moment, then gave him one final nod before clapping his hands.

"Good. Now celebrate. You earned it."

The dressing room broke open again. Music came on. Haaland grabbed the match ball from Lukas and started pretending to sign it himself until Lukas snatched it back. Bernardo shouted that he wanted FPL compensation. Foden demanded another picture. Cherki filmed the chaos from his locker, laughing as Doku tried to make everyone recreate the Poznań inside the dressing room.

Lukas sat down at last, the match ball resting on his lap, the player of the match award beside him.

Around him, Manchester City celebrated as a team.

But somewhere beneath the noise, beneath the laughter, beneath the madness of derby day, another thought settled quietly in his mind.

His first Champions League night was coming.