Chapter 3:Scouted Secrets: A Seven-Minute Chance

"…Is that child really the same one from back then?"

The people seated in the VIP box could not hide their shock.

The most surprised was Park Woo-geun.

"Yes. Ji-Woo Yoo, 16 years old, from Haeun Middle School. That child is the one."

"You're saying that performance comes from a player who's been out for a year?"

"I see no signs of a gap. Did he perhaps secretly play some matches during that time?"

For children, a year was akin to gold. Therefore, a one-year absence generally meant that even the most talented players lost their rhythm and no longer demonstrated their former abilities.

But this wasn't the case.

Their performance hadn't dropped at all—in fact, it had improved. They were bewildered.

'What happened during that year? What could possibly explain this?'

Park Woo-geun stared at Ji-Woo Yoo with a shocked expression, while the Chungbuk Football Club bench erupted with joy as they celebrated their comeback.

For these children, this match felt like a World Cup final, regardless of how insignificant the competition might have seemed.

Smiling quietly, Coach Lee Chae-Woon watched Ji-Woo Yoo buried among his teammates.

'You worked so hard over the past year.'

Because of disciplinary action, Ji-Woo Yoo had only been allowed to play in practice matches and had missed official games. Most of the time had been filled with tears rather than smiles.

Hope had been scarce.

Every day, Ji-Woo Yoo endured grueling training—three times more than others, and sometimes even five times.

Without a single complaint, he had trained himself to soar once again.

'You've earned this happiness.'

Beep—Beep—Beep—

And so, Chungbuk Football Club secured the victory, and Ji-Woo Yoo spread his wings once again, stronger and more radiant than before.

Haeun Middle School, Gongju, Chungcheongnam-do

A year ago, the school had become infamous because of the Coach Assault incident.

Beep—Beep—Beep—

After class, Ji-Woo Yoo sat on one side of the playground in his school uniform, watching the football team practice from a distance.

"…."

Originally, he had been a part of that team.

But after the incident, the coach had been reassigned, and Ji-Woo Yoo was expelled from the team and forced to return to life as an ordinary student.

"Hey! Ji-Woo!"

A voice called from behind.

Turning, Ji-Woo Yoo saw it was Oh Ui-Sik, a third-year member of the Haeun Middle School football team.

"What?"

"A foreign man came here looking for you earlier."

"A foreign man?"

"Yes. He's standing at the school gate. Go see him."

"Got it."

"Oh, and by the way, your disciplinary action is over now. You can rejoin the football team if you want."

At this, Ji-Woo Yoo shook his head.

"Do you think I want to go back with that guy there?"

Ji-Woo Yoo gestured toward a certain player, and Oh Ui-Sik nodded.

"Yeah, you must have been holding back for a long time."

"Yeah. I want to punch him right now, but I'm holding back."

The person Ji-Woo Yoo referred to was Go Min-Jun, another third-year student.

They had started playing football together back in elementary school, but after the incident, Go Min-Jun had betrayed him by lying and pushing Ji-Woo Yoo out of his life.

"Don't worry about me. Go back to training. The coach has been watching here for some time."

"Oh, alright. Be careful on your way back. See you later!"

With that, Oh Ui-Sik went back to the practice field, and Ji-Woo Yoo stood up.

'There's no place for me there anymore.'

Before he could turn away, their eyes met.

It was Go Min-Jun.

Once a friend and teammate, now a traitor.

He looked away.

A moment longer, and his fist might have flown.

At the school gate stood Rodrigo, arms crossed, scanning the area. When he saw Ji-Woo Yoo approaching, his face broke into a wide smile as he stepped toward him.

He grabbed Ji-Woo Yoo's shoulders with a firm grip.

"Hey, kid! Want to come to Argentina with me?"

His voice was filled with excitement.

But Ji-Woo Yoo didn't understand a word he said.

'What is he saying?'

Seeing Ji-Woo Yoo's confusion, Yoon Mu-Tae stepped in to help.

"Rodrigo! You can't just approach him with that intense face. He doesn't understand Spanish, so you're scaring him."

"Hahaha! I'm too excited! Please translate for me."

Yoon Mu-Tae turned to Ji-Woo Yoo and translated.

"He's asking if you want to go to Argentina with him."

The suddenness of the question left Ji-Woo Yoo stunned.

"Argentina?"

"This man is Rodrigo, the Asia scout director for Boca Juniors in Argentina. You know Boca Juniors, right?"

Hearing the name Boca Juniors caused Ji-Woo Yoo to gasp in surprise.

"Yeah, I know. But why me?"

Ji-Woo Yoo wasn't playing in official matches for the past year, and his data was nonexistent.

Why would such a sudden invitation come his way?

After everything he had endured over the past year, his cautious nature prevented him from seeing this as anything other than suspicious.

"You impressed me during the Future Cup final," Rodrigo said, smiling.

"But… I only played for 7 minutes. Are you a fraud?"

The Future Cup was an obscure tournament that few scouts even watched.

Yet, here was an international scout approaching him. His suspicions deepened.

"I saw your value in those 7 minutes."

"…"

"And now, isn't this an opportunity you can't refuse?"

The weight of those words lingered.

Ji-Woo Yoo didn't know whether this was a golden opportunity or just a trap.

"Isn't this an offer you can't refuse right now?"

Yun Mu-tae's words, spoken with a smile, caused Yoo Ji-woo's expression to harden.

It was true.

In South Korea, having assaulted a coach connected to the Football Association made the path to becoming a professional player far more difficult compared to other athletes.

However.

Doubt lingered.

A year ago, the adults who had promised to support him all turned their backs on him during tough times. Yoo Ji-woo couldn't shake the feeling that this was another situation designed to test him.

"Are you struggling with indecision?"

"It's difficult to trust easily. After all, how can you trust someone who suddenly appears claiming to be a foreign club scout? Especially when all they have is a seven-minute performance?"

After the incident a year ago, the scouts who had contacted him wanted nothing more than to exploit his dreams for their own gain. They would demand financial compensation or other rewards in return for promises.

'What do they want from me?'

His suspicions remained strong as Yun Mu-tae glanced at Rodrigo beside him.

"Well, I can see your point. This guy is notoriously reckless."

Rodrigo continued speaking in Spanish, and Yun Mu-tae looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"Rodrigo, this kid isn't in a situation where he can trust anyone easily. Didn't I tell you that yesterday?"

"So what? Just because of one tiny flaw?"

"It's that very flaw that has led to many injuries and betrayals for this child."

"So what should I do to make him trust?"

"Persuade him."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"I've never begged anyone for anything. You're saying I have to do that now?"

Rodrigo hesitated. He had never bowed to any player, no matter how impressive.

"If you really want to take this kid to Argentina, then you'll have to."

At Yun Mu-tae's insistence, Rodrigo hesitated further. Meanwhile, Yoo Ji-woo, tired of waiting, spoke up.

"Could I have a business card? I'd like to discuss this with my family and give you my answer tomorrow."

Yun Mu-tae translated Yoo Ji-woo's words into Spanish for Rodrigo, who nodded.

"Of course."

"Thank you."

"Here's my business card. Contact me if you make a decision."

"Okay."

Yun Mu-tae handed over his business card. As Yoo Ji-woo walked away, Rodrigo immediately made a phone call.

– "What's going on? At this hour?"

"Sergio! Go meet the director immediately and show him the video I sent!"

– "Wait… what's this about?"

"Hurry! I sent you something monumental by email. Check it immediately!"

"What did he send?"

In Buenos Aires, Argentina, Boca Juniors' operations manager Sergio Darin received Rodrigo's phone call and checked his email.

"This video from Rodrigo?"

Daniel, a fellow operations team member, approached him.

"Wait, Rodrigo sent a player video after an entire year?"

"Yeah. Strange, huh? Considering how picky the director is about scouting, I wonder if it's worth it."

"You mean we should examine this first before showing it to the director?"

Daniel hesitated, gulping nervously.

"Last time, a scout from Germany sent a video without review. The director saw it first, and we took all the heat for it. We should check this one first."

The two began watching the video.

"Seven minutes?"

Typically, videos sent by international scouts would span at least an hour, even for a single player. It was standard for scouts to analyze a player over ten matches and summarize their strengths, weaknesses, and potential growth. However, this seven-minute clip wasn't edited and only showed limited footage.

"Seven minutes? Rodrigo's that invested in this?"

The operations team members began doubting its value until the video continued.

Suspicion turned into curiosity, and eventually into certainty.

The two exchanged a quick glance as the video ended.

"...Manager."

"Yeah?"

Without another word, Sergio grabbed the USB with the video and sprinted toward the director's office.

"Where are you going?"

"To show this to the director immediately."

The director's office was lavishly decorated, with gold-trimmed chairs and fine furnishings. Seated on a plush couch was a distinguished, white-haired man watching the monitor. Enrique Boto, the director of Boca Juniors and known as one of the most brilliant—and greedy—minds in football, was there.

"You came this far in a rush. This must be good."

"Take a look at this."

"Where's this from?"

"South Korea."

"South Korea? Rodrigo?"

"Yeah."

Rodrigo was known for being a notoriously meticulous scout, so if he sent a video, it meant the player might be valuable. The director gestured toward the large television on the wall.

"Play it."

Sergio connected the USB and began the video.

The moment the number 20 appeared on the screen, showcasing a dazzling display of skill, Enrique Boto's expression shifted repeatedly.

"What other footage is there?"

"This is it. Only these seven minutes."

Enrique Boto's mind raced. If there had been more footage from multiple games, it would have been easier to decide. But with only this short, unedited clip, the decision was harder.

However, in business terms, the potential was undeniable.

"Call Rodrigo. Tell him to bring this Asian kid to us immediately."

Sergio's face broke into a smile.

"Understood!"

As Sergio departed, Enrique Boto sat alone, lighting a cigarette and replaying the video.

"This is enough. We'll use this to attract Asian fans."