Marco stepped into the glass-walled office hallway where The Rising Talent Agency was located, just as the automatic lights flickered on. Outside, Frankfurt was already sinking into dusk — the sky a muted purple, streetlights shining against the windows like faint stars. It had been a long, frantic journey from Madrid: a rush out of the hotel, a cab straight to Barajas, two hours in the air where he couldn't stop tapping his foot, and a final sprint through arrivals straight to the office.
The building was buzzing. Less than a year ago, Marco had only Carla and a rented cubicle to his name—now there were more than twenty employees scattered across the open office, speaking into headsets, typing up reports, drafting negotiation packages. He had signed some promising young players, but everyone in the room knew who the crown jewel was, who the company revolved around. Who turned this entire agency from a dream into something real?
Lukas. Of course, it was Lukas.
