Marco walked and stopped by the door, "Let me know if you need anything."

"Sure thing. Just go, I will. Carla please take him away,"

The duo waved to Lukas before closing the door.

"Oh finally... What's the time? 7:11, I can get an hour sleep before I have to prepare," Lukas said as he set an alarm for an hour's time on his phone, plopped down on his couch, and fell back asleep.

* * *

Lukas's phone buzzed violently on the table beside the couch. At first, it blended into his dream — a faraway vibration that sounded like an engine idling. Then the ringtone cut sharply through the quiet. He jolted awake, heart skipping. The light streaming through the curtains was brighter than it should have been.

He reached for his phone and squinted at the screen.

"Rob Calling…"

"Oh, crap." He sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes before answering.

"Rob?"

"Morning, your Highness" Koch's voice came through, half-amused. "You alive in there? I've been outside for five minutes."

Lukas glanced at the time and his stomach dropped. 9:15 a.m.

"No way— I swear I set an alarm!"

"Well, it probably gave up on you," Koch replied, laughing. "Get moving, we're gonna be late."

"I'm sorry, man! Two minutes!" Lukas ended the call and bolted upright. He dashed into the bathroom, splashing water on his face before running back to the living room. His hair was a mess, but there was no time to fix that. He threw open the suitcase Marco and Carla had brought earlier that morning and scanned through the outfits.

He paused at one that immediately caught his eye — the one Carla had said was inspired by Wisdom Kaye.

A cream wool turtleneck tucked neatly into tailored black trousers, held with a thin brown belt that matched the polished Chelsea boots sitting beside it. Over it went a long, dark camel overcoat, the fabric smooth and clean. The outfit was simple, timeless — exactly the kind of elegance that turned heads quietly rather than demanded attention.

He looked at himself in the mirror and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yeah… definitely looks like a fashion show," he muttered, brushing down the coat.

His phone buzzed again — a text from Koch: 'Bro??'

"Coming!" Lukas grabbed his duffel bag, tossed in some essentials, and sprinted for the door. He barely managed to lock it before dashing down the hallway.

When he opened the passenger door of Koch's car, the defender just shook his head.

"Nice of you to join us, model boy," Koch teased, smirking.

"Hey, at least I look awake," Lukas shot back, grinning as he buckled up.

The drive through Frankfurt was short — the morning sun cutting clean shadows through the streets as the car hummed along. They barely spoke; the silence was comfortable, each of them mentally switching from club mode to national duty.

Soon, the sleek white car turned into the DFB Campus driveway. The massive glass building reflected the morning light, the German flag fluttering gently at the entrance.

Koch parked and turned to Lukas with a grin.

"Welcome to camp, superstar."

Lukas stepped out, adjusting his coat as the cool autumn air brushed against his face. A few other players were already arriving, exchanging laughs and handshakes by the entrance. He took a deep breath and smiled to himself.

Lukas stepped out the car and slung his little backpack over his shoulder. Koch followed suit and the duo walked to the entrance.

"Robbo!" A voice called out to Koch from behind.

Lukas and Koch both turned around to see who it was.

It was Nico Schlotterbeck walking with Adeyemi.

The four players exchanged greetings with daps and side hugs for a brief moment.

"The man of the moment," Schlotterbeck said as he shook Lukas's hand.

"I try... I try," Lukas responded with a smile as he took his hand firmly. No signs of nerves.

"Yo, Nico, don't injure our star man. Toppmöller will skin me alive if I bring him back with even a hair on his head missing," Koch said jokingly. "I still remember your tackle from that game," he added.

"Come on. That was such a long time ago. I already sent my apologies. We cool right?" Schlotterbeck asked Lukas.

"What tackle? I don't remember any of that. So of course we're cool," Lukas responded, feigning ignorance.

"Hmm... Maybe I'll have to jog your memory when we get on the training ground."

"I'll expect nothing less from you."

"Alright enough, let's go in. We might be late already," Adeyemi said, urging the boys in.

As the four of them walked into the sleek glass doors of the DFB Campus, they were greeted by the calm buzz of staff and players checking in. The building smelled faintly of coffee and new fabric — that crisp, clean scent that always came with national duty.

"Welcome, gentlemen," a woman in a DFB tracksuit said from behind the reception desk. She handed each of them a key card. "Your rooms are ready. Koch, Schlotterbeck, and Adeyemi — you're all in Block B, second floor. Brandt…" she paused to double-check her list, "…you're in Block C, Room 112."

"Separate from us?" Koch asked, glancing at Lukas.

The receptionist smiled. "He's been grouped with someone else — Musiala requested to room with him."

Lukas blinked. "Musiala?"

"Yeah," she replied, handing him the card with a polite nod. "He's already up there."

The others gave him a few playful smirks.

"Well, looks like you're already moving up in the world," Adeyemi teased.

"Relax," Lukas said, rolling his eyes with a grin. "See you guys in a bit."

He walked down the hallways, his shoes clicking lightly against the polished floor. The walls were decorated with framed photos — moments of Germany's footballing history, from World Cup glory to Nations League nights. It felt surreal to be part of that lineage now.

He finally reached Room 112 and knocked lightly before swiping his key card.

"Come in!" came a familiar voice.

Lukas stepped inside and saw Jamal Musiala sitting on the edge of his bed, tying his sneakers. The room was spacious — two single beds, each side neatly arranged. Musiala's kit had already been laid out on his bed, along with his training gear and national team jacket. On Lukas's side, his kit was also ready, the No. 21 on the shirt catching his eye.

"Hey, man," Musiala said, standing up and smiling. "Welcome to the National team. Congrats on being the youngest call-up ever. Crazy stuff for real."

"Yeah it's unreal even when I think about it," Lukas replied, shaking his hand. "Thanks, Jamal. Guess I made enough noise to end up here."

Musiala chuckled. "Definitely did. They gave you 21, huh? Nice number. Means they already rate you."

Lukas dropped his bag by the bed and looked around. "This is insane, man. I still can't believe I'm here."

Musiala walked over to the wardrobe and opened one of the doors. "Your training kit's in here — they've got everything sorted. Breakfast's probably still on if you're hungry."

"Nah, I'm good," Lukas said, glancing at the wall clock. "Don't wanna be that guy who eats right before training."

"Smart," Musiala said with a grin. "We've got a meeting soon anyway. Probably introductions and stuff."

Right on cue, a knock came on the door, followed by a staff member saying, "Meeting room in five minutes, gentlemen."

The two exchanged looks and headed down together.

The meeting room was bright and modern, with rows of chairs set up facing a projector screen that displayed the DFB logo. Most of the squad was already there, chatting quietly until the room fell silent as Julian Nagelsmann entered. He stood at the front, wearing a fitted black tracksuit with the German badge on the chest.

"Morning, everyone," he began, his tone firm but welcoming. "It's good to see familiar faces — and a couple of new ones." His eyes briefly landed on Lukas and Yann Bisseck, who sat two rows apart. "We've had a busy weekend of league football, so I appreciate you all being here sharp and ready."

He paused for a moment, looking around the room.

"This week will be tight. It's Monday, and we're flying to Italy on Wednesday evening. We'll train today, twice tomorrow, and have our tactical session Wednesday morning before the flight. We play Thursday night, and as always, we go there to win — not to experiment."

A few players nodded. The tone was serious but motivational.

"Before we move on," Nagelsmann continued, "let's welcome our two new additions."

He turned slightly and gestured toward Bisseck.

"Why don't you start us off?"

Bisseck stood. "Yann Bisseck, Inter Milan. Defender. Nice to meet you all."

A few players smiled or clapped softly — respectful, encouraging.

Then Lukas stood up, keeping his composure despite the dozen pairs of eyes fixed on him.

"Uh, hey everyone. I'm Lukas Brandt — Eintracht Frankfurt. 16 years old. It's an honor to be here, and I'll do my best to make sure this isn't my last time in this room."

The room went pin-drop silent instantly.

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