Manchester City Centre — Tattu Restaurant, Private Room Upstairs
Rain slicked the stone streets. The reflection of red tail lights shimmered in puddles as a convoy of black cars pulled up outside the contemporary Chinese restaurant tucked off Deansgate.
Inside, the lighting was dim, the décor modern and moody. Red blossom trees framed the walls. In a private upstairs room, a long table awaited, half set for warriors, half for strangers.
Mason Grant had arranged it quietly — not a club event, not a media stunt. Just players. No press. No entourage. No distractions. Just faces, plates, and space to breathe.
🥢 First to Arrive: Rooney, Carrick, and Valencia
The old guard sat near the middle — deliberately so.
Wayne Rooney in a black Henley, relaxed but observant. Carrick was quieter, a quiet conductor even off the pitch. Antonio Valencia nodded to the hostess with his usual stoic calm.
"Feels strange not being surrounded by boots and sweat," Rooney muttered with a half-grin.
Carrick sipped water.
"Maybe we'll see who these new lads really are."
🇰🇷 🇧🇷 🇵🇹 🇦🇷 🇧🇪 🇪🇸
Then came the new wave.
Son Heung-min arrived with a wide grin and box of Korean snacks as gifts.
Casemiro, calm and grounded, brought his younger brother.
João Cancelo swaggered in like he owned the room, stylish as ever.
Romelu Lukaku greeted everyone with daps and shoulder slaps.
Paulo Dybala, sunglasses still on, arrived five minutes late with a quiet "Sorry."
Toni Kroos and Grimaldo were already seated at the end, soft-spoken and observant.
🥂 Breaking the Ice
Rooney stood and tapped his glass.
"Right then — we've got about eleven languages at this table and one badge on our chest. Let's enjoy the food and figure out who the hell each other really is."
Laughter followed. And slowly, so did stories.
Cancelo and Grimaldo debated who had more flair growing up in Portugal.Son taught Valencia to say "gogi" (meat) and "gongbu" (study).Casemiro and Carrick had a long chat about midfield positioning over crispy duck.
At one point, Lukaku and Dybala argued over who was better at FIFA — only for Rooney to interrupt:
"Let's settle it at Carrington. Winner picks next week's music."
🔥 Grant Arrives, Late and Quiet
He didn't sit at the head of the table. Just dropped into an empty seat near the middle and ordered jasmine tea. He listened more than he spoke.
But when Dybala raised a glass and said:
"To authorship — of our own stories,"
Grant smiled.
"And to rewriting them — together."
📷 A Single Photo
At the end of the night, someone (probably Son) asked for a group photo. Not posed, just arms around shoulders, blurry smiles, and one peace sign in the back (Grimaldo, probably).
The photo would never be released publicly.
But a printed copy would later be pinned to the inside of Mason Grant's office door.
Carrington – Manager's Office, Late Night
The office was dark, save for the desk lamp. Outside, the training pitch was ghostly under the floodlights — an empty stage waiting for stories to be written.
Mason Grant sat hunched over a scouting report. A pencil tucked behind one ear. A folder open to Nottingham Forest's midfield transitions. And then —
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number. Portuguese country code.
He stared at it a moment.
Then answered.
"Grant."
A familiar voice answered. Smooth. Precise. Touched with laughter and weight.
"You don't sleep either, I see."
Cristiano Ronaldo.
Grant leaned back slowly in his chair.
"Depends on who's calling."
"You knew it was me," Ronaldo said.
☎️ The Talk
"What's this I hear?" Ronaldo said. "United's got a time traveller managing them?"
Grant smirked.
"Just a man who doesn't believe in wasting potential."
"That sounds like Sir Alex."
"He left me a list. You were on it."
A pause.
"Still am?" Ronaldo asked.
"That depends," Grant said. "You coming home?"
Silence on the line. A long breath.
"I'm not finished in Madrid," Ronaldo said. "But I watch. I always watch."
"I know."
Grant stood, looking out the window.
"You're the ghost in the stands, even when you're not there. These lads feel you every time they pull on the 7."
Ronaldo's voice dropped, quieter now.
"It has to be right. If I ever come back."
"It will be," Grant said. "But not as a crown jewel. Not to save us. You'd be one of many. No gods. Just men who bleed for each other."
"Then I'll know when it's time."
✉️ The Goodbye
Before hanging up, Ronaldo added:
"One of your boys—Dybala. He's different. Reminds me of the early days. Let him fly."
Grant smiled.
"He's not trying to be you."
"Good," Ronaldo said. "That's how he'll survive."
The line went dead.
📝 Final Note
Grant returned to his desk. He wrote only three words on a yellow post-it and stuck it inside a drawer:
He watches. Waits. Home?
He shut the drawer, turned out the light, and left Carrington to the night.