Dawn in Luton
Dawn in Luton is quiet.
Reaching anything resembling a bustling town center requires a car, and the areas surrounding the training ground and Kenilworth Road are entirely residential, leaving only a sparse scattering of lonely streetlamps standing watch until daybreak cracks the horizon.
"Phew..."
Though I could now spend a full day in this body, my old habits still hadn't gone anywhere. Unless it was the morning immediately following a match, I had to wake before sunrise and stroll through the neighborhood to feel properly refreshed for the day ahead.
From home to the training ground, and from the training ground to the stadium.
Once I reached Kenilworth Road, I would loop once around the quiet perimeter of the empty stadium before heading back. Along the way, I enjoyed watching the local storefronts stir to life in the morning hustle, eventually stopping by Uncle Dylan's greengrocer near the stadium to pick up an apple and munch on it as I jogged.
That apple served as my breakfast. A traditional English fry-up never sat well in my stomach, and whipping up a proper Korean breakfast was far too much hassle. Hiring a private Korean chef to come all the way out to the London suburbs just for breakfast didn't make financial sense back then, especially since neither I nor Lee Han suffered from homesickness.
Of course, given our current weekly wages and elevated standing as footballers, we could easily afford one now. But by this point, the morning routine had become second nature, and I felt no urge to change it.
Regardless, once I passed the generous old man's greengrocer and maintained a steady jog, I would eventually loop back to the training ground I had passed earlier. I'd be the first to hit the showers, wash off the sweat, and prepare for morning drills.
That was my daily life, my routine.
Or rather, that was how it had gone until yesterday.
...Why isn't it open yet?
The greengrocer's lights were switched on, yet the front entrance remained firmly shut. Even back before Lee Han and I cleanly split our time in this body—when our wanderings were completely irregular—this shop had always been the very first in the neighborhood to open. Today was different.
A disruption in my routine brought my feet to a halt.
I caught my breath, letting the sweat from my morning jog cool down. It was an autumn dawn, and while the air carried a sharp chill, running continuously made even that cool breeze feel tepid. Slipping into the jacket loosely tied around my waist to preserve my body heat, I peered inside through the illuminated window. The frosted pane obscured the details, but I could clearly make out silhouettes moving about.
Pressing my ear against the glass, I caught two or three voices accompanied by the dull thud of crates being set down. It seemed they weren't taking the day off after all.
Just as I pressed closer to listen in—
Tap, tap.
A sudden knock from inside made me pull back.
Someone was standing right behind the glass door. Moments later, with a metallic clatter, the lock slid open, and someone came hurrying out.
"You're Lee Han, right? Dad was telling the truth!"
A young woman with striking green eyes—someone I had definitely seen before—beamed and waved me inside.
"Dad! Han is here!"
At her shout, Mr. Dylan, who had been shifting crates in the back of the shop, set down a box of fruit and came out to greet me. While he wasn't technically the owner, he was a familiar face ever since learning I passed by every morning. His knack for picking out the sweetest fruit was an added bonus.
"Look at my head. I should've unlocked the door for you, at least."
"It's fine, Mr. Dylan. I've got plenty of time to spare."
It wasn't an empty courtesy. Even if I lingered here for an hour, I'd still arrive at the training ground at the exact same time as Captain Teddy, who was always the second to punch in. We didn't have a match today, and I wasn't obsessively chained to my routine. In fact, an unexpected twist on an autumn dawn was quite refreshing.
"My little brother technically owns the place, but since I'm here helping out today, he won't mind me taking a little liberty. Here, take this first."
Uncle Dylan deftly broke open a crate beside him, inspected an apple from every angle, and handed it over.
"Thank you. I'll enjoy it."
"Let me know if it's not sweet enough. I'll swap it right out."
The apple was delightfully crisp and sweet. No matter how busy he was, the man's eye for quality produce never faltered.
"Do you need a hand with anything?" I asked, feeling awkward just standing there watching him lug heavy boxes.
"No, no, absolutely not! If you pull a muscle or get hurt, my kids will have my head. And my mates will finish the job. We're almost done anyway, so I appreciate the thought. I might be hauling boxes for the first time in a while, but I don't need a youngster's help just yet."
Uncle Dylan chuckled heartily, waving off my offer as he kept carrying crates.
His boast was far from empty. In less than ten minutes, that mountain of crates was neatly stacked inside the storage room. He might have aged, but his muscle memory was undeniable—his unloading pace at the finish was astonishingly brisk, even with loaded crates in his arms.
As I watched in quiet admiration, Dylan turned back to me.
"...Hmm? Haven't left yet, son?"
"I figured I'd take my time today."
My body had cooled down anyway. Rather than forcing myself to warm up all over again on the road, taking a short breather here made much more sense. Having known me since my days in League One, Uncle Dylan told me to make myself at home and slipped into the small kitchenette in the back, likely fetching the fresh apple juice he occasionally treated me to.
...Huh?
Looking around the shop in the meantime, I spotted something beside the framed, signed orange Luton Town kit from several seasons back: two jerseys from the current season hung side by side. I had intended to give him one during preseason but completely forgot amidst the Olympic schedule, so he hadn't yet gotten my signature on these.
Just as I leaned in to take a closer look—
"Um, thank you for last time."
The young woman who had opened the door placed three mugs onto the table.
I accepted the cup, wracking my brain. As the sweet aroma of apple juice wafted up, the name finally clicked.
"...Thank you, Miss Sienna."
Sienna Evans.
The older sister of Joel, the little lad who had taken a photo holding my hat-trick match ball during the Crystal Palace away match. That was definitely her name.
"You remember my name?"
"You came with Joel to the away match, got your shirts signed, and took photos, didn't you?"
Now that I studied her features, Joel bore quite a resemblance to both her and Uncle Dylan.
"Where's Joel today?"
"Probably dead to the world in bed. I was the only one dragged out to help Dad."
"That boy's going to kick himself for sleeping in today," Uncle Dylan chimed in with a chuckle. "I told him to get up and come along, but no..."
He turned to his daughter with a smug grin. "See, Sienna? What did I tell you?"
"...You were right, Dad. I was just impatient. I should have waited here instead of hanging around the stadium."
To be fair, since Lee Han and I alternated our lives, there was a fair chance I wouldn't have passed by even if she had waited a morning or two. That was especially true during our first two seasons at Luton Town, when neither of us could maintain a predictable schedule.
"If I'd known, I would've brought more kits from home," she sighed with a laugh, her smile remarkably bright.
Seeing her like that, Dylan seemed thoroughly pleased with himself.
"My kids never believe a word I say, so it feels grand to be proven right for once."
"You could've just told me, Mr. Dylan..."
If he had asked, I would have signed half a dozen kits for Sienna and Joel long ago.
"Nonsense! An autograph has to be received from the player in person. That's how a real bond is formed, and that's how you fall head over heels for the club and the player."
Having supported Luton Town for twice as long as I had been alive, his words carried the weight of seasoned wisdom. I couldn't argue with that. In fact, he was probably right.
"Anyway, I should get moving to check on the other branches. Take your time and finish your drinks before you head out."
"...Other branches?"
"Ah, did I never mention it? This is a franchise. This is the flagship store, but we've got several locations across London, Merseyside, and Manchester."
No wonder I saw someone else at the counter more often than Dylan in the afternoons. It wasn't a humble partnership between brothers; his brother ran this shop while Dylan supported operations and managed the broader business. The man I usually saw must have been Dylan's younger brother.
I should've figured it out the moment I saw his face and name plastered on the shop sign.
Then again, we had rarely talked this long. It was natural I hadn't known. Besides, whenever I craved fruit on off days, I usually sent Wooseung rather than coming in person, so there had never been time for small talk.
"If you ever fancy some fruit during an away trip, just give me a ring."
"...Ah... sure thing."
"Sienna, I'll pay your daily wage in full, so mind the shop properly! I packed a crate of fruit in the back for the squad, so make sure Han takes it with him when he leaves!"
Uncle Dylan shouted his final instructions as he climbed into a sports car parked beside the delivery truck. Driving a machine like that meant he was rolling in money, yet watching him hustle on the ground to inspect his branches in person was quite impressive.
"I got it, Dad! Just go already, stop worrying!"
Sienna waved him off, clearly accustomed to his nagging.
The sports car's roaring exhaust echoed down the quiet streets of Luton as Dylan sped off toward the M1 motorway.
An awkward silence settled over the greengrocer. The only sound was the occasional sip of warm apple juice.
Thankfully, Sienna's enthusiasm as a supporter soon broke the quiet.
"Um, I didn't get to say it after the Crystal Palace match, but you were truly magnificent."
She spoke animatedly of everything she had seen and heard from the stands—the cool composure in front of the keeper to score, the incisive passes carving out chances, and that spectacular half-volley that became the match's defining highlight.
"With how hard you link up play and score goals, it's incredible how you never pick up minor injuries. Normally, if players run that hard, something gives out."
The look in her eyes was uncannily similar to the gaze Mr. Anderson, Luton's head doctor, gave me—an analytical stare that made you feel like you were about to be dissected on an operating table.
"...Are you a doctor?"
She let out an embarrassed chuckle at my question.
"Just a student drowning in assignments and exams. I've still got a long way to go."
Once the ice was broken, the conversation flowed naturally.
"A Premier League team doctor, huh..."
"Just a goal. A distant, impossible one."
"I've got one of those, too."
"What is it?"
"The Ballon d'Or."
Sienna paused before speaking up again.
"If you keep up your current form, won't they just hand it to you? If you score three goals every match, you'd probably win it even without trophies."
"......"
"I'm kidding. I know how difficult it is. Still... I think you'll reach your goal long before I reach mine. Truly."
She cheered me on, insisting that by the time she was a fully qualified physician, I would have collected the Ballon d'Or more than once.
"Care for another cup?"
We kept talking until we had emptied the entire pitcher of apple juice.
Quite a few cars were already parked at the Luton Town training ground.
"What's this? What made you so late?"
"There's still more than thirty minutes before training starts."
"No, but you usually arrive ridiculously early for days after playing with your head. Captain Teddy told us."
Emir, running into me in the parking lot, looked at me with an inquisitive frown.
"Something came up."
"Well, I suppose even you have off days."
Before I knew it, Dominic slung an arm over my shoulder.
"What's that in your hands, then?"
"Fruit for you lot."
I wasn't sure if the coach would approve, but I had no choice but to bring it to the training ground. Between what Uncle Dylan had packed and the extra Sienna shoved into my hands, there was far too much for me to eat alone.
"I'm touched by your consideration, mate."
"Yeah, yeah. Just eat up and be grateful."
"...Since when do you two play tiki-taka like that?"
"We've always had great chemistry!"
"I wouldn't go that far."
I was definitely better off than Dominic.
In any case, the fruit was remarkably sweet.