Burns personally escorted him out of the bar, then grabbed him and said, "Tony. I think, if you don't know how to train the team for now, or how to direct them in matches... you can leave all that to your assistant. At least until you feel a bit better."

Dunn looked up at him. "Thank you, Kenny."

Burns smiled. "You're welcome. Also, Michael and the others aren't bad people. They're the most loyal Forest fans. It's just that the team's performance has been so terrible these past years, and it pains them deeply. I hope you don't take it to heart. At the match the day after tomorrow, you'll see their lovely side."

Dunn nodded, saying nothing.

"Do your best. Happy New Year, Tony."

"You too, Happy New Year, Kenny..." Dunn waved to Burns, then turned and staggered around the corner.

Burns watched his back, shook his head gently, and turned to walk back into the bar.

"I really don't get it, Kenny, why are you so nice to that idiot..." The fat guy who had mocked Dunn for drinking milk last night saw Burns come back and couldn't help but complain.

Burns thought of the look on Dunn's face when he slumped over the table and said he hated losing. That was truly heartfelt, with not a trace of disguise—pure "hatred." He turned to the fat man and said, "John, if you keep running your mouth, I won't let you drink here anymore."

"Whoa, I won't dare again!"

The bar instantly filled with the laughter of men.

※※※

Even separated by a wall, Dunn could still hear the laughter coming from inside the bar. At this moment, he was no longer staggering as he walked; his back was straight, and he didn't look drunk at all.

He stood by the roadside, waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green, while recalling Burns's advice to him just now.

"Let the assistant coach handle it? That's actually a pretty good idea."

Chapter Four: Training Session

On winter mornings in Nottingham, the sun rises late, but the streets are already crowded. Everyone is busy heading to work, and those studying abroad have to go to school. This is a city both ancient and young, full of vitality everywhere, unlike the old industrial cities of Manchester and Liverpool, which feel stagnant and lifeless.

Dunn yawned as he walked along the sidewalk. Groups of young people ran past him, forming a sharp contrast to his own listlessness.

Watching those energetic, youthful figures, Dunn could only complain in his heart about the terrible inertia left by his body's previous owner. It was as if, following that rigid schedule, he woke up at exactly 6:30 this morning and couldn't fall back asleep. He knew that was Tony's morning run time, but he just didn't want to go running so early. He hadn't done that since passing his physical fitness test for the college entrance exam.

He stared at the ceiling in bed until seven, then got up and made something to eat, dawdled until 7:40, and finally couldn't sit still anymore, deciding to "go to work."

The direct result of insufficient sleep was that he kept yawning, and with the drizzling rain and low temperatures of a winter morning, he was wrapped up in a black coat, hunching his neck like an addict.

After a twenty-minute walk, Dunn was a bit surprised when he stood at the entrance of the training ground. He checked his watch to confirm it was three minutes past eight. "Why is it so quiet? Is the New Year holiday not over yet?" Dunn was puzzled. The entrance to the training ground was so deserted it was almost "empty as a ghost town." When he arrived, he saw a few sparrows perched in front of the gate, which only flew away at the sound of his footsteps.

Even more surprised than him was the gatekeeper, Ian McDonald. "Tony, it's not time for training to start yet."

"Ah... oh. What time does training start?" Dunn realized he was ignorant again. Now he could only blame everything on the accident that landed him on the back of his head.

"Nine in the morning." McDonald looked at Dunn with great sympathy, and he certainly had every reason to.

But Dunn didn't like being treated like a mental patient. He glared at the other man. "Fine, so there's nothing wrong with me coming to the training ground early, right?"

"Uh, of course..." McDonald opened the gate.

Dunn strolled in. This was his first time at a professional team's training ground, and he was a bit excited. But a voice behind him spoiled his mood: "Tony, your office is ahead, turn left, the third white bungalow, the one with the huge floor-to-ceiling window..."

Dunn turned and, not too kindly, thanked the enthusiastic old gatekeeper. "Thanks, Ian, but I know the way."

That's right, he did know. Tony Dunn's memories still lingered in his mind. He was so familiar with this place, it didn't feel strange at all.

※※※

He entered his office and turned on the fluorescent light. The dim room was instantly filled with bright light, and the sudden change from darkness to brightness made Dunn squint his eyes.