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For a moment, Lance thought he could see his great-grandmother.
Even though he had never actually met her.
Who am I?
Where am I?
Why is it so loud?
The muffled sounds gradually sharpened, and by the time the world came back into focus, Lance was already flat on the ground with half his teammates piled on top of him. He caught a blur of wild, screaming faces. Someone had jumped on him from above and nearly crushed him completely.
"Oh oh oh oh!! Lance!! You are God!!"
"We love you so much!!"
"Oh my God! Oh my God!"
Kevin De Bruyne stood on the sidelines with his hands on his hips and let out a long, slow breath.
He had been substituted earlier and had watched the final minutes from the touchline, tense and silent. In the end, all he could do was watch Lance wind up for the sprint before being buried under a pile of ecstatic Atlético Madrid players.
De Bruyne turned and walked toward the locker room.
"Damn it."
"Excuse me, Lance, does winning 3-2 away against Manchester City mean Atlético Madrid have already advanced to the semi-finals?"
"You debuted just three years ago. What does it feel like to be in the Champions League semi-finals for three consecutive seasons?"
"Will Atlético Madrid continue with their defensive counter-attacking approach in the second leg? A conservative gameplan to manage the result?"
"How would you rate your three long-range goals today?"
"How do you evaluate your international teammate Kevin De Bruyne?"
What are these people even saying?
A crowd of reporters with thick Manchester accents surrounded him, and Lance found every single one of them exhausting. He answered a few questions on autopilot, then turned and walked toward the locker room.
For a hat-trick in a knockout match, Lance was named MVP and handed the official trophy. He had a cabinet full of these back home. He passed it straight to Ms. Hanna Müller without breaking stride.
"It's yours."
"Lance, hey, wait!"
She still had things to discuss, but she stopped herself when she saw how he looked from behind. The slumped shoulders. The heavy walk. Something in her chest softened.
Everyone else saw an 18-year-old in his prime, soaking up the adoration of thousands as one of the best three players in the world. Hanna saw what went into it.
Today's match had been brutal. An ordinary team would have been destroyed by Manchester City. Kompany, De Bruyne, Agüero, Silva, and Sterling, even the missed one-on-one aside, Sterling had been a constant menace throughout. Manchester City today had shown the quality of a genuine top-four European side.
And it had taken the very best version of Lance to beat them.
Hanna had never watched a player compete with that kind of desperation.
She stood there a little too long, staring after him.
"Hey, what are you looking at?"
Agent assistant Harry Kane snapped her out of it.
"Nothing. Get back to work."
The brief softness disappeared from her expression instantly. She went straight back into work mode, phone already out, fingers moving fast.
She scrolled through social media feeds at speed, scanning evaluations of Lance's performance whilst simultaneously firing off emails to coordinate with the media and the club about the upcoming press conference and interview schedule.
There was also a Coca-Cola commercial shoot request that had come in today, but given how Lance was looking right now, that was not happening. She contacted the liaison and moved it.
"Lance would be completely lost without you," Harry Kane said, watching her work.
"Less talking. Are you really that free?" Hanna shot back without looking up.
Originally all of this was Harry's job. Somehow it had all migrated onto her plate.
"I'm busy too."
Harry Kane laughed sheepishly and went off to find the team physiotherapist. Lance was going to need a proper massage and some physical therapy tonight.
Hanna kept scrolling. In the age of mobile internet, most major outlets had already published within minutes of the final whistle. The coverage of Lance was almost entirely positive.
"Three World-Class Goals Shatter Manchester City's Champions League Dream. Lance Receives Top Rating of 9.5"
"Manchester City 2-3 Atlético Madrid. Chinese Player's Hat-Trick Dominates the Field!"
"Joe Hart's Nightmare! Lance Made Him a Backdrop!"
"Second Leg With Their Backs Against the Wall. Manchester City Already on the Brink."
The fans online were no different.
"He truly is the God in my heart! Manchester City scared me half to death today, thank God Lance stepped up."
"He is the savior of competition! All three goals were divine!"
"Bayer Leverkusen fans saying it turns out it wasn't Leverkusen who kept reaching the semi-finals, it was Lance all along. The club owner is an idiot. #ManchesterCity2-3AtléticoMadrid"
"You never know what you have until it's gone. #LanceHatTrick"
The most heartbroken were, predictably, Bayer Leverkusen fans. They had been beaten 2-0 by Bayern just a day earlier and were almost certainly out of the competition. Those two consecutive semi-final runs in the previous seasons now felt like a distant dream. The dream had ended the moment Lance left.
Now it was Atlético Madrid's fans living it. Many German supporters had followed Lance to Spain and started watching La Liga. Who cared about home allegiances? Just watch Lance.
He kept winning. Why wouldn't you follow that?
Shortly after, both clubs held their press conferences. Lance and Simeone were originally scheduled to attend together, but Lance had spent absolutely everything in those final moments. The sprint and dribble in injury time had drained the last reserves he had. Simeone brought Captain Godín instead.
Godín spoke about his teammate without holding anything back.
"Today, everything came down to Lance. When Oblak took that quick goal kick, I didn't understand what was happening at first. Then I saw Lance still sprinting flat out in the final seconds of injury time, and I just knew. The goal was coming.
That is the kind of person he is. The desire to win never leaves him.
Personally, I had already accepted a 2-2 draw as a good result. Lance refused to accept it.
And as we all saw, that is exactly why players like him succeed."
From her corner of the room, Ms. Hanna Müller felt the corners of her mouth move.
That's right. You see it now, don't you?
My Lance is just that good.
Manchester City arrived shortly after, Pellegrini's face grey.
"Today, we were truly unlucky..."
Hanna had spent enough years around football to read the situation clearly. Pellegrini's eyes had completely lost their usual sharpness. He had almost certainly been taken apart by the club's ownership before walking into this room.
She had a feeling another name was about to be added to Lance's unofficial "Coach Killer" list. Not that Lance had any personal grudge against any of these coaches. They had simply made the mistake of standing in his way.
It reminded her of something from the Chinese novel "The Three-Body Problem" she had read a while back.
To destroy you, what does it have to do with you?
Hanna's thoughts drifted forward. Even with this result, Manchester City would almost certainly not be able to overturn a two-goal deficit at the Wanda Metropolitano. The semi-finals beckoned, and with them, an even more dangerous challenge: Barcelona.
And waiting beyond that, a Real Madrid side that was quietly building momentum in the other half of the draw.
Bayern Munich's form had been inconsistent, which meant Real Madrid hadn't been forced to dig too deep yet. They might arrive at the final relatively fresh.
This season, Lance had stronger teammates and a stronger coach around him than either of the previous two years. But the path to the title was arguably harder. Too much quality in too many places.
Unless Lance could find another level. Unless he could break through whatever ceiling still existed and release something more.
"Hanna, what are you thinking about?"
"Huh?"
"Why is your face so red?"
She hadn't noticed Lance arrive. He had already showered and changed into casual clothes and was leaning over her shoulder, half-listening to the press conference.
Hanna glanced at him sideways.
"I was thinking you should win the championship this season."
"Why?"
"Because I believe in you."
She said it simply, looking straight at him.
Lance grinned.
"You've got good taste."