Julian woke before dawn, the same way he always did.
Silence clung to the house, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breath as he moved through his routine.
First, the flow of martial arts—stances drilled until every tendon and bone remembered their place.
Then his private gym, weights grinding against muscle and sweat burning across his back.
Finally, football work in the backyard, juggling, short sprints, sharp touches—keeping his instincts razor-edged.
By the time he paused, shirt damp and lungs hot, the sun had already climbed.
He checked his phone.
10:00 A.M.
Time.
He'd chosen morning for the meeting. Always the morning. His body and mind worked best when the day was still fresh.
But as his thumb hovered over the screen, the location he'd picked earlier made him groan.
A café. Not just any café.
A pet café.
Julian pressed his palm against his face.
"Damn it… what's the scout gonna think of me?"
