The day after the 5-0 thrashing by Manchester United, something felt off.
Unlike the usual uproar from City fans, there were no protests, no angry parades in front of Maine Road.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
There were no supporters gathering outside like they had during the protests against the Lee Consortium—something Richard had experienced before.
The security team and staff breathed a sigh of relief. But those accustomed to handling high-level crises knew better. This silence wasn't peace—it was the sign of something deeper, something far worse brewing within Manchester City.
The usual laughter and banter in the locker room? Gone.
The confidence that had carried City through January? Shattered.
O'Neill arrived at the changing room and found his players had already finished warming up.
No one spoke much. Heads were down. Movements were mechanical. The weight of the defeat still hung heavy over them.
