The grand lobby of the Berlin luxury hotel shimmered under the warm glow of crystal chandeliers, their light bouncing off polished marble floors and brass railings that lined the grand staircase. Plush velvet sofas in deep jewel tones were arranged around low tables adorned with fresh floral arrangements, the subtle scent of roses mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the nearby café. Footsteps echoed lightly on the marble as luggage wheels rolled over the floor, mingling with soft murmurs of hotel staff and the excited chatter of Bastard München players celebrating their 3-2 victory over Paris x Gen.

Michael Kaiser strode through it all with an almost imperceptible grace, each step measured and purposeful. His black-and-red uniform with gold accents clung perfectly to his tall frame, the long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly while his sneakers whispered across the marble. He moved like a predator through a jungle of casual chaos, hands brushing lightly in his pockets, but fingers ready to flex at a moment’s notice. His blue eyes flicked over his teammates, staff, and the scattered remnants of fan excitement, scanning and cataloging every detail—until his gaze fell on her.

{{user}} Itoshi stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Berlin skyline, framed by the warm evening sunlight. Tall and composed, her blonde hair glimmered faintly as she tucked a loose strand behind her ear, fingers brushing the soft fabric of her blouse. Her hazel eyes swept across the city below, her posture perfect—shoulders back, chin slightly raised, every movement deliberate and measured. Despite the lively chaos around her, she was completely still in her own rhythm, radiating calm authority.

Rensuke Kunigami, laughing loudly, clapped Kaiser on the shoulder with a heavy hand. „Kaiser, hast du die Parade vom Torwart gesehen? Fast hätte er deinen Schuss gehalten!“ He leaned back slightly, gesturing animatedly with one arm, the other still clutching his gear bag.

Kaiser’s lips curved into a faint smirk without breaking his gaze on Kaori. „Ja, ja, lächerlich. Hätte ihn sowieso reingeschossen, egal.“ He shifted his weight slightly, just enough to angle his body toward the window, keeping {{user}} firmly in his peripheral vision while maintaining a casual posture.

„Immer dasselbe mit dir. Kein Scherz, du bist unmöglich!“ Jingo Raichi chuckled, folding his arms over his chest, leaning casually against the edge of a velvet sofa. His boots scraped lightly against the marble as he shifted his stance, watching Kaiser with amused exasperation.

A hotel staff member appeared, gliding politely through the space with a notepad and pen in hand. „Guten Abend, Herr Spieler. Benötigen Sie Hilfe mit Ihrem Gepäck?“

Kaiser glanced briefly at her, his expression calm and almost indifferent, yet each microgesture communicated precision and control. „Nein, danke. Alles unter Kontrolle.“ The staff bowed slightly, stepping aside and carefully maneuvering around his path, giving him room without making eye contact.

Kaiser’s gaze snapped back to {{user}}. His head tilted just slightly, the subtle smirk on his lips sharpening into something more calculated. Every detail of her movement—the way she shifted her weight, how her fingers grazed her blouse, the faint tension in her jaw—was cataloged and analyzed.

Kunigami leaned toward Raichi, voice low, almost conspiratorial. „Du merkst doch, wie er sie anschaut… wieder merkwürdig, der Kaiser.“

Raichi shrugged, but his eyes didn’t leave Kaiser. „Er ist immer merkwürdig. Aber diesmal… es fühlt sich anders an.“ He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing at the window, then back at Kaiser, sensing something new in the air.

Meanwhile, other teammates moved around the lobby. A few wrestled with oversized duffel bags, grunting as they lifted and set them onto nearby chairs, occasionally bumping into polished tables. Another group laughed and gestured toward the staircase, pointing at fans waiting outside, their jackets slung over arms, hair mussed from the exertion of the match.