When you walk out of Market Street, there is a bus stop not far from the intersection where you can catch a bus back to the city.
Ethan originally had another option, which was to call a taxi, but for some reason, he suddenly wanted to take the bus. Maybe it was because he had always commuted by bus before, and the habit was hard to shake.
He didn't know if it was always like this or if he was just lucky, but the bus he boarded wasn't crowded. There were several empty seats, so he chose one by the window. As the bus slowly pulled away, the breeze from the open window brushed across his face, making him feel relaxed.
The streets passing by outside gave Ethan a strange mix of familiarity and unfamiliarity, leaving him both moved and puzzled.
They felt unfamiliar because none of this was part of his past life. He had never lived in this city. Yet he also had to admit that he had, in this life, spent 23 years here. The sights in front of him were supposed to be familiar.
What puzzled him was that he had hardly seen a single tall building along the way.
The city he had worked in before was filled with skyscrapers, and its suburbs were lined with industrial zones and new developments. But here in Manchester, if not for the occasional luxury car driving past and his certainty that this really was England, Ethan might have mistaken it for a backward little town.
As the bus entered the city center, the occasional tall building appeared, but most of the architecture remained old and low-rise. Still, thanks to careful planning and layout, the city had a unique charm and left a pleasant impression.
The bus stopped at Piccadilly Gardens, its central hub. Ethan got off, but instead of going home, he caught another bus heading toward Old Trafford.
Trafford Park sat on the edge of the city, a vast commercial district said to house the largest shopping mall in Europe. At its heart was Manchester United's legendary home ground, Old Trafford.
When he got off at the Sir Matt Busby Way stop, Ethan walked toward the stadium.
Sir Matt Busby Way lay between a shopping complex and a large car park. On non-match days, it was usually quiet. From the street, you could already see the massive billboard plastered across the front of Old Trafford, featuring United's most famous stars.
Ethan stopped beneath it and glanced up at Ryan Giggs' image. A wry smile tugged at his lips.
"The two brothers really do look alike. Should I hang a giant poster of Rhodri Giggs on our ground one day? Maybe it'll attract more fans to watch us," he muttered.
Back when he was just a supporter, his biggest dream had been to visit the home stadiums of Europe's football giants, to experience their atmosphere firsthand.
Yet when he finally stood in front of Old Trafford, his mood was completely different.
Now, he was Manchester United's rival.
United might not even notice the existence of a tiny club like his, but Ethan had already sworn that he would never remain stuck in the lower leagues forever. One day, he would lead the new Manchester United all the way to the Premier League. The road would be full of hardship, but he would never give up.
In his previous life, although he had been passionate about football, he could never make a living from it. He had no talent to play, no chance to work within the game. He could only grind away at an ordinary job that left him neither rich nor completely destitute, drifting through life.
But now things were different. Since fate had given him the chance to transmigrate back to 1998, there was no way he would let himself live a mediocre life again.
"This is my life anyway. I've already profited just by coming here. I might as well give it everything I've got," Ethan whispered, clenching his fists and pumping himself up.
At that moment, a train rumbled past Old Trafford, as if carrying away all traces of his past. From here on, he would embark on a new journey.
For this new life, Ethan had set himself a goal: to surpass Manchester United.
After lingering in front of Old Trafford for a while, Ethan was about to leave when he noticed a familiar figure standing beneath the bronze statue of Sir Matt Busby. The boy's head was tilted upward, his face filled with reverence.
"Do you like Manchester United that much?" Ethan walked over and asked.
"Yeah. I came all the way from London just to see Old Trafford. Sir Matt Busby is the person I respect the most. He's a legend!" Curtis Davies said earnestly, pointing at the statue.
"If you love United so much, then why did you come to the Red Rebels' trial?" Ethan pressed.
The "Red Rebels" was already the widely used nickname of the new club. Even though the official name hadn't been decided, the fans had embraced it, and discussions had already begun in Walsh's bar about forming an official supporters' group.
"I don't know," Curtis admitted. "I love United, but I also love the Red Rebels. My dad says the Red Rebels aren't traitors. They did what they did because of how much they loved United. That's something worth respecting."
After a pause, Curtis looked downcast. "It's a pity they don't have youth or junior teams yet. I'm only 13, so I don't qualify…" His expression turned helpless.
"Then why don't you go back? Aren't you worried your parents will be anxious if you stay here?" Ethan asked, giving the boy a pat on the head.
To his surprise, Curtis was already nearly as tall as him. At just 13, with such a strong build, he would definitely grow into a tall, athletic player in a few years.
This kid's physique is incredible. A natural football talent.
When Ethan used to play Football Manager, he always looked for youngsters with strong physical attributes. Skill could be trained, but physique was priceless. Seeing Curtis in front of him gave him the same instinctive feeling.
"Stay a few more days. It's rare that I got out," Curtis said casually.
"Got out?" Ethan blinked. "Don't tell me you ran away from home?"
Curtis gave him a look like he was overreacting. "If I hadn't sneaked out, do you think my dad would've let me come alone from London to Manchester? I'm already training with the youth team of a pro club in London. If he knew I'd gone to a trial for an amateur team, he'd lose it!"
The boy's tone was firm and confident, showing just how sure he was of his own ability.
"So you're planning to go pro?" Ethan asked, finding him more interesting by the moment. Ever since the boy's trial had been rejected, Ethan had thought highly of him.
"Of course. I'm the captain of my club's U15 team. I play center back," Curtis replied proudly.
"Really? What's your name then? Let me see if I've heard of you." Ethan teased him.
How famous could a 13-year-old possibly be?
"Curtis Davies!" the boy said eagerly, clearly hoping to be recognized.
Ethan smiled and shook his head. If the boy had said Rooney, or maybe Agbonlahor or Lennon, then yes, those names he would know. But Curtis Davies didn't ring a bell at all.
"Hmph, that's only in Manchester!" Curtis muttered stubbornly.
Ethan didn't take it too seriously. He just thought the boy had a fiery temper and a stubborn streak. But in football, that kind of personality often made the difference between good players and great ones.
"I think you should head back soon, before your parents worry too much," Ethan advised.
Curtis said nothing, only stared at the bronze statue again. After a while, he murmured, "Once I go back, I may never get the chance to come here again."
"Why not?" Ethan asked.
"Luton Town are interested in me. My dad also wants me to join a more formal youth system. It's a League Two club, very strict with their youth players. Once I go there, I won't be able to sneak out like this again," Curtis said with a small pout.
Only then did Ethan realize that even though the boy was still young, he was already mature enough to understand what was best for his career. Moving to Luton was clearly a better step than staying in a small London club. Even if he didn't like the discipline, he was willing to go because of how much he loved football.
Of course, not every kid with talent and passion could make it. And to Ethan, the name Curtis Davies still meant nothing.
But then, suddenly, a memory struck him.
In 2008, when Fabio Capello announced his first England squad, Curtis Davies' name had been included. He had started at Luton Town, later moved to West Bromwich Albion in the Championship, and in the 2007 winter window had joined Premier League side Aston Villa. He had impressed in several matches, earning the nickname "Ferdinand II."
The only reason Ethan remembered it so clearly was because his favorite player, David Beckham, had been left out of that squad, causing uproar.
Could it be that this stubborn boy in front of him was really the future England international, the so-called Ferdinand II?
If it really was that Curtis Davies, then Ethan couldn't let him slip away, no matter what.
(To be continued.)