The tunnel smelled of wet turf and rubber, the air still humming with leftover rain.
Only one local reporter waited there — microphone in hand, camera crew behind her, lenses fogged from the storm.
It wasn't a national broadcast, not yet.
This was Regionalliga Nord — the kind of league where victories vanished by morning headlines.
But tonight felt different.
And Julian had a feeling why.
This had Sabrina Weiss written all over it.
The reporter stepped forward — tall, sharp posture beneath a red scarf, her smile professional but edged with curiosity.
"Julian Ashford," she began, voice smooth through the mic. "Two goals, one assist — a remarkable performance. Can you describe what went through your mind in those last minutes?"
Julian stopped, the faint echo of boots on concrete filling the pause.
He searched for the right word. Not a soundbite — a truth.
"Silence," he said finally.
The reporter blinked, taken aback. "Silence?"
