Ferguson stood with his hands on his hips, frowning as he watched Claire receive a painkilling injection on the pitch. He remained silent.
Assistant coach Carlos Queiroz glanced at Wayne Rooney, who had jogged over to the sidelines. "How's Claire holding up?"
Rooney wiped sweat from his brow and shot a glare toward Chelsea's bench. "It's a torn muscle. The injection stopped the bleeding, but I don't know if he can finish the match."
"Boss, should we—" Queiroz began, but Ferguson cut him off as Claire, now in a fresh red No. 66 jersey, struggled back to his feet.
Before Ferguson could speak, the entire Old Trafford crowd erupted. Led by Ronaldo and Park Ji-sung, the fans rose in a standing ovation for Claire.
Claire, playing the part, bowed to all sides as if nothing had happened.
Ferguson didn't know how Claire could still smile and wave—until he noticed the subtle twitching in his jaw. If not for that, he might've forgotten Claire's "injury-prone" reputation entirely.
The notorious "Skinflint" had vanished from the stands, leaving only Claire's agent, Costa Majoor, grinning as he watched his client jog lightly across the field.
Ferguson understood Claire's choice then. He shook his head and muttered to his staff, "What an era of spectacle we live in. The power of capital is terrifying."
His assistants nodded knowingly.
Having worked at Manchester United for years, they knew today's atmosphere wasn't purely organic. The way Ronaldo and Park's every move sent the crowd into a frenzy—regardless of their usual popularity—hinted at orchestrated hype. Their agents' hands were likely all over this.
The match resumed.
Claire glanced at the [Critical Condition Alert] flashing in his vision and smirked. "Hah. What a treasure chest."
This function had appeared just in time. Not only did it suppress his injury temporarily, but it also provided a [Danger Zone Potential Timer].
The moment he was injured, his system activated [Emergency Protection Mode], stabilizing his wound within a safe timeframe—no side effects. But if he pushed past the limit? Permanent damage. And forced shutdown, like after the bank robbery.
The red countdown in the corner of his vision read: [14:59:25].
"Go! Go! Go! Crush Chelsea! Show Mourinho who's boss!" Claire panted, shouting encouragement to every teammate who passed.
His words worked like magic.
Instead of crumbling after Chelsea's counterattack, Manchester United fought harder. Rooney, in particular, echoed Claire's rallying cry with every offensive push.
Time ticked away.
The timer now showed [11:26:01], but Claire remained mostly stationary in United's half. To fans, it made sense—he was injured, just trying to endure.
But Claire was far from passive. He was waiting—for John Terry.
According to system analysis, Terry had a weakness: his left Achilles, marked in yellow. Claire didn't know the origin of the old injury, but he did know this was his chance to prove himself.
When Lampard launched Chelsea's next attack, Terry sprinted forward—glancing at Claire as if targeting him.
Chelsea's trio moved like a well-oiled machine. Seeing Rooney leading United's defense, Lampard adjusted, shifting Markelélé into the playmaker role while he marked Giggs.
Rooney, known for his aggressive style, charged straight at Markelélé—then pivoted sharply, only to find Terry waiting.
A clean slide tackle.
Chelsea fans roared as Terry stole the ball.
[Ding!]
[Option A: Terry favors left-footed dribbling. Exploit Achilles vulnerability. Intercept success rate: 100%. Aggravating injury ensures he can't pursue. Dribble success rate: 100%. Warning: Avoid physical contact due to back injury.]
Claire ignored Option B.
Terry was coming right at him.
Claire gritted his teeth and intercepted before Terry could advance. "Hey! Long time no see. Told you—you're not winning today."
Terry didn't engage. Instead, he feinted left—a signature move.
Claire anticipated it, positioning his left foot to block Terry's path. If Terry didn't swerve, it'd be a clear yellow-card foul.
Already on a booking, Terry hesitated—then instinctively shifted to his left foot.
But Claire, even injured, was fast.
Before Terry could react, Claire had the ball and was gone, sprinting toward Chelsea's half. Only Park kept up, though two defenders shadowed him. Ronaldo and Rooney flanked the wings.
Claire veered toward Chelsea's right sideline—drawing two defenders away from Park.
Park, reading the play perfectly, dashed wide, pretending to call for a pass. Claire obliged—with a fake.
Then, in a move that left Petr Čech dumbfounded, the ball curved mid-air—into the net.
"Didn't that cross go left?!" Čech stared as Old Trafford erupted.
MUTV's commentator laughed. "Our young star just fooled the veteran! What a goal!"
Claire didn't celebrate.
The timer now read: [06:59:22].
2-2 wasn't enough.
He had one more play.
Circling near Chelsea's box, Claire noticed Terry demanding the ball from Lampard—his pride wounded.
Mourinho, sensing disaster, screamed from the sidelines. Ferguson, meanwhile, sat calmly.
When Terry charged again, Claire taunted: "Hiding injuries from your coach gets you suspended, right?"
Terry flinched.
Claire struck—stealing the ball once more. Terry's face twisted in pain.
"Eat my dust!" Claire bolted forward, linking with Park and Nani in a blistering counter.
Spotting Rooney's diagonal run, Claire barked at Nani: "Pass!"
Nani, under pressure from Lampard, obliged.
One-touch.
A perfect through ball.
MUTV's host leaped from his seat. "If there's a Man of the Match today, it's Claire Lee! He's transformed United's attack!"
"Unbelievable!"
"Claire's assist—Tevez's control—Rooney's header!"
"Poetry in motion!"
"This is Premier League history!"
Old Trafford roared as the scoreboard flashed: 3-2.
Then, Claire signaled to Ferguson—substitution.
50 minutes. 2 assists. 1 goal. A flawless debut.
But as [The Nights] blared over the speakers, Claire's vision blurred.
He staggered toward the medical team—then collapsed.
Team doctor Di Salvo gasped. "I can't believe he played through this."
Ferguson, however, was already strategizing. "Mourinho's subbing Terry. They're going all-out attack. Let's counter—move Ronaldo up, bring on Hargreaves for Giggs. Let's score more."
Queiroz was relieved he hadn't argued earlier.
Owen Hargreaves, United's €26 million signing from Bayern Munich, proved his worth—assisting Ronaldo's 75th-minute strike and earning Lampard a yellow card after some theatrical contact.
Tempers flared.
Lampard, already frustrated, snapped after Hargreaves' trash talk:
"Wow, a rookie outplayed you? Embarrassing."
"4-2 now. Might as well give up."
When Hargreaves conveniently tripped over Lampard's attempted clearance, Ferdinand shoved Lampard—who shoved back.
The referee's yellow card cooled tensions, though Hargreaves smirked.
Then—Ronaldo's free kick.
A deep breath.
The stadium held theirs.
The whistle blew.
Ronaldo struck—the ball swerving unnaturally past Čech.
5-2.
Game over.