The Allianz Arena looked different at night.
Not just full—alive.
Lights wrapped around the stadium in shifting colors, the glow visible from far outside Munich, pulling people in like gravity. By the time Lukas and the others made their way into the VIP section, the atmosphere had already built into something electric. Every seat filled, every level buzzing, the sound rising and falling in waves as both sets of fans made themselves heard.
From the glass-fronted VIP booth, the view was perfect.
The pitch stretched out below, flawless, bright under the floodlights, players already moving through their warm-ups. PSG in one half, Inter Milan in the other. Two teams preparing for the biggest night of their season.
Lukas stood near the glass at first, hands in his pockets, watching.
João dropped into one of the seats behind him, leaning forward slightly as he looked down at the pitch. "So," he said, "who've you got?"
Lukas didn't answer immediately.
