Chapter 12: "Breaking Through Limits"

"Haah…"

The moment Yoo Jiwoo entered the locker room, he rubbed his forehead, exasperated by Diego Rossi's explosive remark to the overly passionate supporters about burning down the chicken coop.

"Whistle, whistle~."

Diego, nonchalantly whistling and avoiding eye contact, made Jiwoo shake his head.

"Why did you say something like that there?"

"It's thrilling."

"One more thrill like that, and someone's going to die."

The reaction to Diego's comment about burning down the chicken coop was explosive.

It gave Jiwoo a slight taste of what it feels like to think you'll die if you lose.

"…Why are you smiling like that? It's annoying."

Diego Rossi hadn't stopped grinning ear to ear for a while.

"Jiwoo."

"What?"

"Do you realize you've been talking more than usual?"

Jiwoo flinched in surprise.

"One of my goals is complete."

"What goal?"

"To make you talk more."

"And?"

"To see you smile at least once. Didn't know, did you? It's a bet."

He'd somewhat sensed it. The club staff would glance at him daily, seemingly eager to see when he'd crack a smile.

"I'll smile when I feel like it."

"Aw, can't you smile just once?"

When he didn't respond and glanced around, he noticed his teammates staring with strange smiles on their faces.

Turning away to avoid their eyes, he locked gazes with Paulo Garcia, who had lost his spot in the starting lineup to him.

"…"

Paulo Garcia was a close friend of Nizareno, having come up through the U-15 ranks together.

"What are you looking at?"

There was no way Jiwoo would say something pleasant to those who openly displayed hostility.

Before the incident, Jiwoo had made considerable efforts to get along with players he'd just met. But after what happened, his beliefs had shifted entirely.

'If someone dislikes me, there's no need to try and befriend them.'

As such, Jiwoo had no intention of getting close to Nizareno's group.

"…What an annoying guy."

"Are you speaking on my behalf?"

"For someone taking my place because I'm not in good condition, you sure talk a lot."

"For someone stuck warming the bench after losing out to me, you've got a big mouth."

"You think you're starting because you're good? You're beneath me."

"And you're warming the bench because you're not good enough. You know that well."

Jiwoo didn't lose in a single exchange.

Paulo Garcia glared at Jiwoo harder, but Diego Rossi, tying his cleats, interjected.

"Paulo."

"What?"

"You know what kind of performances you've been putting up this year, don't you?"

"…"

"If you don't put in the effort and just want to secure your spot, you can't expect everyone else to be fools."

At Diego's words, Paulo crossed his arms and lowered his head.

"Tch."

Just then, Rodolfo Pinty entered the locker room, cutting off the conversation.

"Nervous?"

At his question, everyone responded in unison.

– "No, sir!"

"Carlos! If you're going to answer so confidently, hide those shaking legs."

"I-I'm not shaking!"

"Martin, grab his legs before he drills a hole in the ground."

Mini El Superclásico.

The weight of those words was on an entirely different level compared to other matches.

Though the players tried not to show it, their nervousness inevitably leaked through.

It was hard to hide such emotions, given their young age and lack of experience.

'Even so… I can't tell what this guy is thinking.'

Rodolfo Pinty glanced at Yoo Jiwoo.

It was his first start since coming to Argentina, and he was the most inexperienced player in the room. Yet, there wasn't a hint of nervousness about him.

'…Is he a natural?'

Occasionally, you'd come across players like that—those who feel excitement instead of nervousness before a game.

'If that's the case, I'll have to keep watching to see if he has the talent to rise to the world stage.'

Standing in the center of the locker room, Rodolfo Pinty addressed the team.

"I won't say much! I'm sick of losing! Go out there and make up for the last five years of humiliation!"

Advertisements – "Let's go!"

---

Beep!

The referee's whistle signaled the start of the Mini El Superclásico.

River Plate U-20 was a team of elites among elites.

They even poached talented players from their arch-rivals Boca Juniors Youth, offering large sums of money. This was why Boca Juniors fans despised River Plate.

"Kill those bastards!"

"Traitors! Delfín! Domingo! How's the chicken coop treating you, you money-grubbers?"

Though it was a youth match, these players would eventually rise to the first team and become the backbone of their clubs.

It was also a friendly match that gave a glimpse of which club would dominate the Argentine league in the future, so the fans' enthusiasm was through the roof.

River Plate lined up in a [4-2-3-1] formation, placing two defensive midfielders to focus on blocking Boca Juniors' attacks early.

Thud!

The player facing the most pressure from Boca Juniors was Diego Rossi, their left winger.

"Urgh!"

River Plate's players relentlessly harassed Diego before he could even receive the ball.

Whenever he managed to break free from the pressure, another player would mark him tightly, ensuring the ball couldn't reach his side.

With Diego Rossi's flank neutralized, Boca Juniors attempted to use their two attacking midfielders to build attacks. However, their reckless dribbling often resulted in losing the ball.

"Ughhh!"

"Pass it, you idiots! The kid on the right is wide open! Why can't you see him?"

"What are you, blind? How can you miss that?"

Groans erupted from the stands as River Plate launched a counterattack.

They targeted the weaker flanks instead of the central defense, where Boca's star, Nizareno, stood guard.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

As time passed, River Plate's offense grew increasingly intense.

Thwack!

Sharp crosses.

Thwack!

And persistent shots aimed at Boca Juniors' goal. However, they either hit the goalpost or missed entirely.

On the right flank, Yoo Jiwoo calmly observed the flow of the game, as the ball hadn't come his way yet.

'The fullbacks are too slow to react. There's no communication, so their passing accuracy is terrible.'

Lack of coordination and rushed ball handling.

These mistakes gave River Plate second chances, putting Boca in a precarious position.

'If the defensive midfielder leading the build-up just stands there clueless, what's the point? In situations like this, they should be shielding the back four while distributing the ball… Tch.'

---

The role of a defensive midfielder is to protect the backline while actively intercepting the ball. However, Sebastián León was failing miserably at fulfilling this role.

'Huh?'

That was when it caught Yoo Ji-woo's eye—River Plate's repetitive passing pattern.

Though their attacks branched out in various directions, one thing remained constant.

'The starting point of their passes.'

Noticing the ball consistently gravitating toward a certain player, Yoo Ji-woo moved away from his position on the wing and began advancing toward the center.

---

"Sebastián! Stop chasing the ball and look at the lanes! And Juan! Did you get holes in your legs? Why are you letting the ball through so easily? Act like a blocked ball means you're saving a goal!"

Frustrated by the team's passive and disorganized play, Rodolfo Pintí yelled at his players from the sidelines.

Even though no goals had been conceded yet, it felt like just a matter of time.

At that moment, Pintí noticed a player moving from the right flank toward the center.

"Don't pass it back!"

Likewise, Eduardo Guarín, River Plate U-20's captain, shouted urgently, but it was already too late.

Swish!

Yoo Ji-woo slid in and intercepted the pass intended for Eduardo Guarín.

—"Ooooh!"

Amid the myriad of passes, one predictable pattern had revealed itself: a fallback to Guarín whenever River Plate players were pressured.

It was a passing route difficult to identify even from the sidelines, yet Yoo Ji-woo had spotted it and seized possession of the ball.

"Everyone fall back! Prepare for the counterattack!"

River Plate's defensive focus had been almost entirely on Diego Rossi on the left.

Playing his first match and being an unknown quantity, Yoo Ji-woo had flown under their radar.

"Mark Diego!"

Diego Rossi, an Argentina youth national team regular, was a player so skilled that even the senior national team had taken interest in him. Thus, River Plate's coach had designed his defensive tactics with Rossi as the priority target.

But Yoo Ji-woo wasn't planning to take the conventional route of passing forward.

'Dribble.'

He wanted to make a statement with his most confident skill.

"You're not going anywhere!"

With a quick drag of the ball under his foot, he dodged a defender's outstretched leg.

Having beaten one player, Eduardo Guarín stepped in to block his path.

Guarín was a towering figure, but Yoo Ji-woo, still dribbling, directed his gaze elsewhere—to Diego Rossi's direction.

Whoosh.

"Di... Diego—!"

Anticipating a pass to Rossi, Guarín began issuing instructions, but in the same instant, Yoo Ji-woo exploded to the right, dribbling past him with a burst of speed.

'Eye feint.'

Using nothing but a subtle glance, he deceived Guarín—a high-level feint technique.

"Foul him!"

Having been outplayed, River Plate's coach screamed, instructing his defenders to stop Yoo Ji-woo at all costs, even through fouls.

As the defenders closed in with aggressive tackles, Yoo Ji-woo stayed calm.

Before arriving in Argentina, he had relentlessly trained his technical skills. Since coming here, he had refined and upgraded them even further.

---

The deafening roar of the crowd and the immense pressure from the game itself didn't matter to him. Right now, all he could see was the goal.

Swish!

A defender lunged in from the right, another from the left, their raised legs hinting at dirty intentions to trip him up.

What Yoo Ji-woo did next left everyone stunned.

Tap.

With a single touch, he evaded the defender on the right.

Tap.

With a second touch, he dodged the defender on the left.

Using the "La Croqueta," a move famed as the Phantom Dribble, he bypassed two defenders.

In the stands, fans began to rise to their feet.

Could it be…?

A sense of excitement started to take hold of them.

---

Following the La Croqueta, Yoo Ji-woo executed a Marseille Turn to get past the final defender, leaving only the goalkeeper to beat.

The goalkeeper, desperate, dove to intercept the ball.

Tap.

Yoo Ji-woo responded instantly with a delicate lob over the diving keeper.

The keeper's outstretched arms couldn't reach the ball. His face turned to one of disbelief.

The ball sailed gracefully, tracing a beautiful arc. Without even watching the ball hit the net, Yoo Ji-woo turned around.

Clink.

The net rippled.

For a moment, there was stunned silence.

Then—

—"WAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Like golden waves surging across a blue ocean, Boca Juniors fans erupted into deafening cheers, shaking the entire stadium.