Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 107: A Ghost?!

Chapter 107: A Ghost?!

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting soft rays across the small apartment room.

Outside, the city of Alkmaar was alive with morning activities, but inside, all was still. Benjamin lay sprawled on his bed, the blanket tangled around his legs. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, his face peaceful.

For the second time since signing his professional contract, there were no alarms, no pressure to wake early for training or tactics. Today was an off day, and his body embraced the rare gift of rest.

It wasn’t until the clock on his nightstand flickered past ten that he began to stir. A faint groan escaped his lips as he shifted, rolling onto his back.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the warm light in the room. He stretched lazily, his arms extending over his head, his toes curling under the blanket.

A series of faint cracks echoed through his shoulders and back, and he sighed, sinking back into the mattress with a contented smile.

Finally, he pushed himself up, resting his back against the wooden headboard. His messy dark-brown hair stuck out at odd angles, and his face bore faint creases from the pillow.

But none of that mattered. He sat there for a moment, letting the quietness of the room settle around him.

"Hehehe..."

A soft chuckle bubbled up from his chest as his thoughts drifted.

’Last night...what a night.’ He thought as the images replayed in his mind—Eto’o’s goal, Elm’s half-volley, Zhirkov’s stunning freekick, the roar of the crowd, and then his own audacious strike from 75 yards out...

It was all so vivid, so raw, like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

But then his eyes shifted to the small shelf across the room. On it, three sleek, silver statuettes gleamed in the sunlight. His accumulated Man of the Match awards... for now, at least.

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he stared at them. No, this wasn’t a dream... This was real.

His hand brushed through his hair as he leaned back again, the grin still lingering. A part of him wanted to pinch himself, to confirm it all over again.

"Hehehe..."

He let out another chuckle, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. From a small-town kid in Haarlem to this.

The faint hum of life outside his window reminded him he wasn’t alone in the world, but for now, in this quiet room, everything felt just right.

The accolades, the moments on the pitch, the belief he was building in himself—it was all part of his reality now.

And what a reality it was...

Benjamin glanced at the clock on his nightstand again, realizing just how late it had gotten.

The idea of stepping out for a morning jog crossed his mind, but he dismissed it with a small shrug.

The sun was already high, and the streets would be bustling with activities. Instead, he swung his legs off the bed, planting his bare feet on the cool floor.

A few deep breaths steadied him before he started his impromptu routine. He bent forward, his fingers brushing the floor as he held the stretch.

The familiar pull in his hamstrings made him grimace slightly, but it was a good kind of pain, the kind that loosened him up.

Moving seamlessly into a downward dog, he pushed his heels toward the ground and let his back lengthen.

The stiffness from last night’s game gradually melted away as he transitioned through a series of simple yoga stretches. He reached for the ceiling in a final stretch, his spine crackling faintly.

Benjamin shook out his arms as he straightened from his final stretch, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up further.

The slight soreness from last night lingered in his muscles, but it was manageable—just another reminder of the game’s intensity.

Dropping to the floor, he positioned himself for press-ups. His palms pressed firmly against the cool surface, fingers spread for balance.

With a steady inhale, he lowered himself, his chest hovering just above the ground, before pushing back up with controlled strength.

"One," he counted under his breath, setting a quiet rhythm.

By the tenth press-up, his muscles warmed up, the motion becoming smoother. His breathing remained steady, as he powered through each repetition.

At twenty, his arms began to burn slightly, but he didn’t stop.

"Thirty..." he murmured, his voice tight with effort as sweat beaded on his forehead.

The final ten were a test of endurance with his pace slowing slightly, but his form stayed intact.

When he reached fifty, he exhaled deeply, resting for a moment in a kneeling position, letting his arms hang loose at his sides.

After catching his breath, he shifted onto his back for sit-ups. His fingers lightly interlocked behind his head as he planted his feet firmly on the ground.

With a small grunt, he pulled himself up, elbows brushing his knees, then lowered himself back down.

The motion was smooth at first, each upward pull feeling like a reminder of his core strength.

By the fifteenth, his abs started to tighten, but he pushed through, exhaling sharply with every rise.

At twenty, he let out a satisfied sigh, lying back on the floor for a brief moment, arms stretched out at his sides. His chest rose and fell steadily as he stared at the ceiling, letting the effort sink in.

"Still got it," he muttered with a small smirk, rolling over to stand. His body felt more awake now, the light ache in his muscles a welcome companion.

"Much better," He stretched his arms overhead once more before heading toward the bathroom to clean up, ready to take on the rest of the day.

The sound of running water filled the small space as he brushed his teeth, his reflection in the mirror looking a little more awake with each passing second.

After rinsing off, he stepped into the shower, the cold water hitting his skin like a shockwave. He inhaled sharply but didn’t shy away.

The icy sting was refreshing, washing away the remnants of sleep and last night’s adrenaline.

By the time he stepped out, his mind felt clearer, his body lighter. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he returned to his room and pulled open the wardrobe.

Today called for something casual—a simple black T-shirt and grey joggers. He slid into them quickly, running his fingers through his still-damp hair.

The apartment was quiet as he made his way to the small kitchen.

The faint hum of the fridge and the soft creak of the floorboards under his feet were the only sounds. He reached for a glass and a fresh lemon from the bowl on the counter.

With practiced ease, he sliced the lemon in half, squeezing its juice into the glass. He filled it with water, the bright yellow liquid swirling as he gave it a quick stir.

Taking a sip, he leaned against the counter, savoring the tangy freshness.

His eyes drifted to the window, where the city buzzed with life. He had a whole day ahead, and for once, no schedules to follow.

"Good morning~"

The sudden feminine voice jolted Benjamin from his leaning posture and he turned sharply to the source.