CHAPTER 167: BAYERN

Everyone chuckled lightly. The tone in the room was easy, collaborative — professionals at work, but with the air of something exciting about to unfold.

Markus turned the tablet around to Lukas. "We’ll walk you through the plan in detail, then get you to the wardrobe for fitting. You’ll meet our creative team, and we’ll have you out there in less than an hour."

Lukas nodded, eyes scanning the visuals on the screen. "Sounds great," he said simply, the same calm, polite tone he always used, but inside, he could already feel that familiar buzz of adrenaline building again.

This was a different kind of arena, not the roar of fans or the glare of stadium lights, but the world of brand image, sponsorships, and global exposure.

And even though it wasn’t a pitch, Lukas knew instinctively — it was still a stage.

* * *

"Cut! That’s it! Thanks for your effort, Lukas — perfect!"The director’s voice rang across the sound stage as the last camera light faded out. A small round of applause followed from the crew as Lukas exhaled, shoulders sagging, his hair damp with sweat from nearly three hours of filming.

He dropped into a chair beside the set, pulling off his training top and grabbing the cold bottle Javi handed him. "Danke," he muttered before taking a long sip. His face glistened under the studio lights.

"This might actually be harder than playing against Bayern Munich," he said, half-smiling, half-groaning. "At least in football, I get to run for a reason."

Marco, standing nearby with his blazer off and sleeves rolled, chuckled. "Speaking of Bayern..." he began, his tone sly.

Lukas looked up instantly. "Don’t tell me they—"

"Relax," Marco interrupted. "Just saying, we’ve got that dinner scheduled in about an hour. So, finish that water, superstar. We’ve got executives to meet."

Lukas groaned softly. "No rest for the wicked, huh?"

"Or for the famous," Javi teased, clapping his son’s shoulder.

The three of them stood, exchanging quick thanks with the production team as they packed up their equipment. David, the director, approached with Lena, both smiling.

"Lukas, you were fantastic," David said. "You’ve got real camera presence. The takes turned out beautifully — natural, confident, expressive. Exactly what we wanted."

"Thank you," Lukas replied, standing to shake his hand.

Lena added warmly, "You made our job easy today. Everyone at headquarters is already talking about how well the footage looks on playback."

Marco smiled. "Just make sure his face is centred in every frame," he joked.

After a round of laughter, they exchanged parting pleasantries. Lena handed Lukas a small Puma duffel bag — a parting gift containing a few limited-edition training kits and new prototype boots.

"Travel safe," she said. "And we’ll send you the final cut when it’s ready."

By the time they left the Puma building, the Bavarian sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting warm amber light across the glass walls of the headquarters. The air smelled faintly of pine and distant rain.

Their driver, Thomas, was already waiting out front. "Back to the hotel?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Marco replied. "We’ve got a dinner to get to."

Inside the car, Lukas leaned back and shut his eyes, utterly spent. Javi looked at him through the rear-view reflection and smiled quietly — that fatherly mix of pride and amusement.

"Who’d have thought a commercial could drain you more than ninety minutes of football?"

"Next time," Lukas mumbled, "I’m bringing my fitness coach."

Marco laughed softly from the front seat. "Next time," he said, "you’ll probably be filming in Milan or Madrid. So, enjoy this while it’s still easy."

Lukas cracked one eye open. "We’ll see," he said.

The car rolled through the Bavarian countryside, city lights beginning to blink in the distance — and somewhere between exhaustion and anticipation, Lukas found himself wondering what kind of evening awaited them at dinner.

* * *

In a softly lit private dining room overlooking the Bavarian night, two men sat cross-legged at a low Japanese table, the city lights glimmering through the vast one-way glass window. The décor was elegant and minimal — polished wood, muted lanterns, and a delicate bonsai centerpiece. Steam drifted lazily from a teapot between them, and the faint sound of a koto melody played somewhere beyond the sliding door.

Both men wore sharp black suits. One, Herr Schneider, had the stern composure of an experienced negotiator; the other, Herr Weiss, younger and more animated, scrolled occasionally through a sleek tablet displaying a dossier marked Brandt, Lukas – Profile.

Schneider lifted his cup of sake and spoke calmly. "Eberl’s message was very clear — whatever it takes to lure him. No hesitation."

Weiss nodded, lowering his voice. "He knows what kind of player we’re talking about. Once Madrid or City moves, we’ll lose our chance. Tonight needs to plant the seed."

Before Schneider could reply, a gentle knock came at the door. The wooden panel slid open, and a restaurant attendant bowed slightly. "Your guests have arrived."

Lukas entered first — dressed neatly but simply — followed by Javi and Marco. The soft lighting caught the faint weariness in Lukas’s expression from the long day, but he greeted them with calm confidence.

"Gentlemen," Schneider said, standing as they approached. "Welcome. We’ve been looking forward to this meeting."

"Likewise," Marco replied smoothly as the group exchanged handshakes before settling onto the floor cushions surrounding the low table.

The waiter reappeared almost immediately, silent and precise, setting down beautifully arranged trays: sushi, sashimi, small bowls of miso, and a bottle of Dassai sake. The dishes had already been pre-ordered — a quiet display of Bayern’s usual efficiency.

As the men poured drinks and exchanged pleasantries, the conversation soon drifted toward football — inevitably.

Schneider leaned forward slightly, his tone measured yet inviting. "Lukas, we’ve all watched your rise. From your first Bundesliga goal to the Nations League performances — extraordinary. What you’ve achieved at sixteen is... almost unheard of."

Weiss picked up seamlessly. "And we believe Munich is the next step. You already have chemistry with Musiala — the two of you together could define an era."

Lukas listened quietly, expression unreadable.

"Next season," Weiss continued, "we’re restructuring. Building something younger, faster. Imagine this — Musiala through the middle, you cutting in from the left, Olise on the right, and Kane leading the line. You’d dominate Europe for a decade."

Even Javi looked mildly intrigued at the visualization.

"The club isn’t just thinking domestically," Schneider added. "We’re thinking legacy. You have Ballon d’Or potential — but to reach it, you need a platform that puts you at the center of the world stage. Bayern can give you that."

Lukas leaned back slightly, processing the pitch. He said nothing, his gaze drifting momentarily toward the window, where the reflection of the city shimmered faintly on the glass.

Marco was the first to interject, always the professional. "Of course, all that sounds ideal. But practical questions remain. Living arrangements, education, support structure..."

Weiss nodded quickly, ready for it. "Already accounted for. The club handles everything — housing, transportation, even personal staff if needed. We have a specialized department for player welfare. Lukas can choose any style of accommodation — a penthouse in the city or a villa near the training complex."

"And his studies?" Marco pressed.

"We have long-term partnerships with Munich’s top Gymnasiums," Schneider replied. "We’ve done this for Musiala, Tel, Pavlović — and we’ll ensure Lukas gets the same treatment. He’ll have flexibility and tutors available through the club."

Still, Lukas remained quiet. Calm. Listening.

The two executives exchanged a brief glance. They could feel the balance of the meeting starting to hang on a thread — polite interest, but no commitment. Schneider decided to press further.

"Let’s talk about what matters most," he said carefully, setting his glass down. "Value."