A Starry Night (2)
Beneath the vast night sky, a small lamp sitting on the table cast a warm glow across her face.
"You're not used to parties, are you?"
"...Maybe a little."
"I figured as much."
A beer can rested lightly in Miss Adelia's hand. Seeing the empty cans and the unopened bottles arranged on the table, it seemed she had brought them up herself.
"Come, sit down. It isn't as though there's anywhere else to sit in this rooftop garden anyway."
Drawn by her words, I stepped toward her almost in a daze and took a seat on the rattan chair opposite hers. A pleasantly cool breeze slipped through the woven wicker.
"...First of all, congratulations on promotion, Mr. Lee Han."
"I should be saying that to you. You're the one who truly deserves the congratulations, Miss Adelia."
Considering the circumstances under which she had taken charge of Luton Town in the first place, it was nothing less than the truth. She had come here not out of fandom, but to hone her executive capabilities. Yet she had guided such a club straight into the Premier League; even if she had fabricated an impossible objective out of thin air and then lauded herself for surpassing it, no amount of praise would be excessive. The financial windfall of promotion alone had repaid every penny spent during the winter transfer window many times over.
"I wonder about that. I haven't really done all that much. In the end, it's the players who run out on the pitch."
"You're the one who gave us the peace of mind to run our hearts out, Miss Myers. You have every right to stand tall and say it—that you worked yourself to the bone."
"Did I really?"
She chuckled softly and slid a glass of beer across to me. As the wind stirred, a faint scent of alcohol drifted from her direction. I had wondered why she seemed so delightfully relaxed compared to her usual poised demeanor; she was already half-tipsy.
"I really poured everything into these past three years... no, nearly four. Bringing in Manager Gordon, overhauling the wage structure, renovating the stadium..."
As if releasing a dam of pent-up emotion, she took sips of her drink and began recounting everything she had weathered up to this point. I had intended to steer the conversation elsewhere if she touched upon private matters, but every single story revolved around our Luton Town.
It was a window into how she had spent her recent years. With virtually no personal life, merely shuttling endlessly between the office and home, and devoting her rare leisure hours to further business studies, she had looked busier than an active footballer in the thick of the season.
"...So... it was truly exhausting."
How much time had passed? With a soft clack, she set the empty beer can onto the small table, bringing her gentle lament to a close.
"Which is why today feels so immensely rewarding. Because all that toil was finally repaid."
As the acting owner steering the ship, and as an ardent supporter of Luton Town, knowing she held a decisive share in delivering the fruit of promotion was a joy beyond measure.
Her words trailed off, and she gazed blankly down at Kenilworth Road, which remained brightly illuminated in the distance.
"It leaves you feeling a bit restless, doesn't it?"
"It really does. Right after the match ended, I was simply ecstatic, but now it feels even less real than it did back then."
"I felt the exact same way just a moment ago, so it's completely normal."
Indeed, until just moments before, I too had been drowning in sentimentality. Only hours ago, I was basking in the deafening roars of the supporters, yet here I was now. It was a hazy, dreamlike sensation that made me wonder if everything I had achieved had truly happened.
Of course, that was merely how it felt emotionally. Rationally, I was acutely aware of our promotion, and I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that we would be competing in the Premier League next season. That was an immutable truth. Even so, there was a clear reason why this subtle, hollow sentiment lingered between us.
"I gave that feeling some thought earlier, and I think it's because there's nothing tangible to hold yet."
"...Pardon?"
"They don't hand you a championship trophy just for securing promotion, do they?"
In the Championship, first and second place earned direct promotion, while the final ticket was contested through the grueling play-offs. The league champions received the Championship trophy, and the play-off winners were awarded the play-off cup. Second place received a small cup as well, but it held little real significance. The champions were immortalized in league history, and the play-off winners retained the glory of a tournament triumph, whereas a runner-up cup was merely a quiet consolation prize devoid of any lasting prestige.
"So I feel like this restless fog won't truly clear until the final match is over, when we grip the championship trophy with both hands and hoist it high into the air."
"That's an interesting perspective. In terms of club operations, promotion to the Premier League is everything—but for a player, I suppose it isn't quite enough."
"Nor is it for the fans."
"...You're right."
At my quiet addition, she nodded as if finally understanding the knot nestled inside her own chest. Even so, she did not forget to pop open a fresh bottle of beer.
"Then... do you think we can win the league title?"
Taking a sip, she handed me another bottle from the table, looking at me with a meaningful smile.
"A two-point gap... and if both we and Middlesbrough win our next fixtures, the final match of the season will essentially be a grand final, won't it?"
She possessed a crystal-clear grasp of our current circumstances. Considering Middlesbrough had splurged during the winter transfer window to sweep up fringe starters from the Premier League, a winner-take-all clash was impossible to predict. Even with home advantage on our side, neither team held an absolute edge in sheer quality or pedigree.
"Which is why we have to win, no matter what."
"Do you have any particular basis for that confidence?"
"...Because I promised you that we would."
"Haha. You still remember that?"
The words I had spoken that day over tea in her office remained strangely indelible in my memory. I couldn't tell if it was simply because I had made that vow to the acting owner of the club, but perhaps that unfulfilled promise was the very reason this bittersweet feeling shadowed our promotion.
"Even if we fall short, I have no intention of blaming anyone. That would be shameful, both as the acting owner and as a supporter."
"I heard you told Manager Gordon that we absolutely had to win it, though."
"...Well, maybe just a little."
Alcohol truly did make people candid.
"A-anyway! No one, not even the pundits, ever imagined our Luton Town would come this far."
She was entirely right. Even I had thought before the season kicked off that scraping into the play-off spots would be a miraculous blessing.
If Yeon and I hadn't inexplicably learned to swap control of our body during matches, if Dominic's injury had dragged on any longer, if Kayden hadn't found his footing, or if complications had arisen during the winter window... Had even a single gear slipped out of place, disaster could have struck. Yet through stroke after stroke of incredible fortune, we had arrived here without a single fatal stumble. If even an ounce of ill luck had intervened, those grim premonitions from the start of the season would have easily materialized. Looking back, it had been a campaign blessed by sheer miracles in every conceivable way.
"So this is already more than enough for me. It isn't that I don't desire more, but I believe this has already been a magnificent season."
"Rather than stopping here, since we're dreaming big anyway... why don't we scrape together whatever luck we have left and fill Luton Town's trophy cabinet?"
"...The cabinet is rather barren, admittedly."
Though Luton Town boasted over a century of history, gathering every single piece of silverware the club had ever won would still fail to reach double digits.
"Placing the FA Cup and the EFL Championship trophy side by side would give it some proper dignity, don't you think?"
"Just imagining that sounds wonderful."
Certainly, our Luton Town could never be compared to the storied giants of Europe's top four leagues. The gulf was staggering in every metric, from sheer silverware to the scale of the institution. But precisely because of that, we had the privilege of writing our own firsts. Every single season we spent in the Premier League would become living history for everyone belonging to Luton Town.
From the squad, myself included, to Manager Gordon, the backroom staff, groundskeeper Bob, and all the way to Miss Adelia sitting before me, brushing a strand of flowing blonde hair behind her ear.
Without another word, we sank into our quiet reverie and watched the lights across Kenilworth Road extinguish one by one in the late hour.
One. Two. Three.
Four. Five.
Six.
Seven.
Kenilworth Road, which had felt as though it would shine forever, steadily surrendered its brilliance and cloaked itself in the darkness below. Yet the surrounding city nightscape refused to dim even after the stadium lights went black, and the night sky draped over us as faithfully as ever.
Our gazes gently crossed.
"Miss Myers..."
"You can call me Adelia."
"......"
I wasn't foolish enough not to understand the meaning behind her words.
"Adelia."
We were already gathered closely at the modest table, but the space between us narrowed even further.
"I don't know how our season will ultimately conclude."
"I know."
"But I swear to you: when every match is done, I will place a trophy in each of your hands."
I reached out and gently covered her hand resting on the table.
She seemed slightly startled, yet she made no move to pull away. Instead, she brought her other hand over to wrap around mine. Though she had been sitting out in the chill long before I arrived, the hand in my grasp was tender and remarkably warm.
"This is already enough."
A radiant smile blossomed across her face.
"So, just like this, for a little while..."
At that exact instant.
"Hey! Alan brought up a massive bottle of champagne!"
A booming shout echoed all the way from the distant staircase, reverberating through the entire rooftop garden.
Of all the moments for that bastard to ruin...!
Deep inside me, a familiar voice—one that wasn't entirely my own thought—surged straight up to my throat.
'Wait, that's not the priority right now.'
If we lingered here any longer, the odds of Dominic barging straight into the garden were near certain. It was time to get up.
Reading the shift in my posture, she let out a gentle sigh.
"Go on, Han. I'll head down slowly."
"Make sure you come down before they take the group photo."
"I will. Don't worry."
Only then did I release her hand and hurried over toward Dominic, who was still hollering at the top of his lungs.
"Ow! Ow! Why are you hitting me all of a sudden?! Are you drunk?!"
"Yeah, I am drunk!"
A truly heartwarming scene of corporal punishment.
Hit him harder! More!
The little rascal inside my soul—Yeon—was practically cheering for Dominic to get thrashed even harder.
Would it really hurt our chances of winning if he sat out just one match?
Once the chaotic commotion settled down, everyone gathered closely before a modest, makeshift platform.
"Where did you wander off to?"
"Just stepped outside for some fresh air. Felt a little lightheaded."
Captain Teddy glanced around at my response, seemed to come to his own silent conclusion, and patted my shoulder warmly.
"Understandable."
"What is?"
"Don't worry about it. I'll smack Dominic one more time for you later."
Truly our captain. He was on an entirely different level.
As I handled the half-drunken squad members, Alan stepped forward from an icebox in the corner, carrying a colossal bottle that looked three or four times larger than ordinary champagne.
"I brought the champagne!"
"Wait, didn't we already spray it all over the locker room?!"
"That was then, this is now!"
"Scatter!"
Since everyone had freshly showered and dressed up in proper suits for the banquet, the players scrambled in sheer panic. By the time that massive bottle was nearly drained, every last one of us was soaked to the skin, yet not a single soul complained to Alan. We simply grinned like idiots, clambering onto the platform to line up for the commemorative photo.
"Good thing I took my time coming down."
Before I knew it, Adelia was standing discreetly right in front of me.
"Adel... I mean, Miss Myers."
Calling her too casually here would have guaranteed an absolute catastrophe. Understanding that completely, she merely cast a brief, playful pout over her shoulder, not pressing me to use her first name like before. Even standing directly in front of me, she made sure not to turn her head to meet my eyes, speaking in a murmur that was barely audible over the din.
"All right, all right! Everyone squeeze into the center! Players and staff on the wings, tuck in toward the middle!"
The photographer, who had been waiting with an enormous camera lens, called out repeatedly as he checked everyone's position.
"That's it! I'm taking the shot now, so it's a happy day—everyone smile!"
I reached down and gently caught the hand she had subtly slipped behind her back.
With bright spotlights blazing directly into our faces and the players pressed tightly together facing the lens, no one could possibly see what was happening below our waists. Neither she nor I could see each other's faces right now. Yet the warmth passing between our clasped fingers was undeniably real, and both of us were certain that the other was smiling radiantly, just as the photographer had asked.
The shutter clicked.
In this fleeting moment, we became the history of Luton Town.