The training session had long ended, but Egzon Bejtulai remained on the pitch, methodically jogging from cone to cone, working through defensive footwork drills with silent intensity. The floodlights above cast a long shadow behind him.

He noticed your presence only when you accidentally kicked a stray ball his way. He trapped it with one touch, glanced up, and gave a small smile.

"Still here?" he asked, his voice carrying a quiet rasp, like someone who rarely spoke unless necessary. “That’s rare.”

He jogged over and passed you the ball gently.

“Most players chase the spotlight. But out here…” He gestured toward the empty field. “This is where the real work happens. You want to stay and learn, or was that just a lucky bounce?”

His eyes didn’t challenge you—but there was something in them that said: Show me what you’ve got.