Chapter 8: "The First Encounter: Asserting Dominance"

There was no direct flight to Argentina, so I transited through the U.S. before arriving at Ministro Pistarini International Airport, located south of Buenos Aires.

'So, this is Argentina.'

As I waited for my luggage, I looked around the airport. It was my first time abroad, and everything felt fascinating.

The exotic scents.

The unfamiliar faces.

The thrill of novelty wrapped around me completely.

"Your father… he's over there."

When I finally grabbed my luggage and stepped out of the gate, Cha Myung-hoon pointed in a direction, and I couldn't believe my eyes.

"…Father?"

There he was, my dad, sporting a scruffy beard and wearing an eccentric outfit as he waited for me.

"¡Hola!"

He was dressed in baggy pants, a dark brown shirt covered in strange patterns, and a fedora to top it off. To complete the scene, he held a sign written in Korean:

"Welcome, my son!"

As I approached him, he noticed me, removed his sunglasses, and waved enthusiastically.

"My boy! Was the trip scary?"

"…Dad."

"What?"

"Where did you get those clothes?"

"A friend helped me get them! Marco, the guy at the fruit store I befriended here, recommended them. What do you think? Should I buy you some?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Why not? Don't you think they look cool?"

Until now, I'd only ever seen him in his chef's attire or the clothes Mom bought for him. I had no idea his fashion sense was this terrible.

"…As long as you like them, Dad."

I swallowed my words and followed him outside, where a car awaited us.

"Mr. Cha, why don't you come along? I'll drop you off at your hotel."

"Thank you so much! And Sir, I must say, your outfit is truly stylish!"

"Right? Would you like me to gift you some clothes?"

"It would be an honor! I'll wear them for life!"

Little did I know at this moment how these two would become inseparable best friends.

---

Cha Myung-hoon had arranged to stay at a hotel for the time being to assist me until I settled into Boca Juniors.

"Then, I'll take my leave here. Thank you for everything today, Sir! Ji-woo, I'll see you tomorrow at the house. Rest well!"

"…Thank you for your help today."

"No thanks needed! It's all part of my job, so don't worry about it!"

After dropping him off at the hotel, we headed home.

The foreign scenery outside the car window captivated me, but my father soon broke the silence.

"He's a good man, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"It might take some time for you to open up, but don't think badly of him. He's a good person."

I already knew that.

Still, I found it hard to trust.

Perhaps it was because of all the betrayals I had experienced, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he might eventually leave.

'I'm just being paranoid. He hasn't done anything wrong.'

I felt a tinge of guilt. He had been nothing but warm and caring, while I hadn't even offered a kind word in return.

---

Just a ten-minute drive from the hotel, we arrived at the La Boca neighborhood.

Among the old houses stood one with a neat, modern facade. After parking in the garage, we entered through a side door into the yard.

The house had two floors, a small yard, and a modern vibe.

"I saw photos, but isn't this place expensive?"

"It's so you can focus entirely on soccer!"

"..."

"There's even a home gym here. Wanna see it?"

Following my dad further, I also noticed a small swimming pool.

"I always wanted to live in a house with a pool if I ever lived abroad!"

My dad's eyes sparkled like an excited child who'd just achieved his dream. Inside, a middle-aged couple came out to greet us.

They were impeccably dressed in black-and-white attire, exuding a warm and professional demeanor.

"Welcome back, Sir."

As they approached, my dad placed an arm around my shoulder and introduced me.

"Alicia, Marcio, this is my son, Ji-woo, the one I've been talking about!"

"Oh, so this is the son you've been praising endlessly! I'm Alicia."

"I've heard so much about you. You're even more handsome than I imagined," added Marcio.

I gave my dad a questioning look, and he quickly explained.

"They're the ones who'll help take care of things while we live here. They're married, so treat them well, alright?"

"Hello, I'm Yoo Ji-woo. Please take good care of me."

When I greeted them in fluent Spanish, they seemed genuinely surprised.

"Your Spanish is excellent!"

"I can manage basic conversations."

Although I initially struggled with broken phrases, my determination to master the language paid off. By now, I could communicate comfortably with locals.

"While you stay here, we'll ensure you have everything you need," Alicia said warmly.

"Do they live here as well?" I asked cautiously, still a bit wary of strangers.

"No, they live across the street with their family," my dad replied.

"I see."

"Now, let me show you around the house!"

After exchanging pleasantries with the couple, I followed my dad inside.

"…Wow."

The interior was even more impressive than the exterior.

Marble floors and clean, modern decor.

Every detail reflected my father's meticulous personality.

"Welcome! Let me show you to your room!"

On the second floor, my room turned out to be the largest in the house—bigger than the master bedroom downstairs.

"Dad, you should take the big room. I'm fine with a smaller one."

"No way! My son deserves the best! No compromises on that!"

Thus began my new life in Argentina, a chapter that would reshape my destiny.

---

Two days later, after some much-needed rest, I was on my way to Boca Juniors.

Seated in the car Cha Myung-hoon had rented, I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement as we drove toward the club.

"There may be players who'll try to give you a hard time. Try to avoid any conflicts."

"Yes."

"From now on, I'll drive you to all training sessions. If anything feels inconvenient, let me know right away."

"Is it okay for you to focus only on me like this?"

Most agents usually handled multiple players, so sticking to one player like glue wasn't common.

Grip.

Cha Myunghoon gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"…Some bastard stole all my clients. So there's not much left for me to do in Korea anyway."

I simply nodded in response to his words without saying much.

"I'll make sure you don't regret being here."

"Pardon?"

"…I don't repeat myself."

"Hahaha! No need to repeat yourself—I heard you the first time! Ah, I should've recorded that!"

After joking around a bit, he gave me several pieces of advice as we drove toward Boca Juniors.

---

"Welcome!"

As soon as we parked in the lot, a man approached us.

"It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Daniel Mora from the marketing team, here to guide you."

"Are we heading straight to the U-20 class?"

"Would you like to take a tour of the club first?"

"Sure, let's do that."

The interior of the Boca Juniors facility resembled that of a typical company. The only difference was the abundance of soccer-related decorations. It wasn't particularly fascinating, so after the brief tour, we headed out.

"The U-20 training grounds are about a 15-minute walk from here."

On the way, Daniel Mora shared various stories about the coaching staff and key players. After walking for 15 minutes, we arrived at the training grounds.

"This is the U-20 class where you'll be playing."

Before me stretched a vast field designated for training.

When Daniel waved, a towering figure over 190 cm with a muscular build and light brown hair stood up from the bench and approached us.

"This him?"

"Yes, the player joining your class. Rodrigo personally scouted him."

"Hm."

The man, who was introduced as the U-20 coach, Rodolfo Pintti, circled me as if appraising me.

'Is he a wrestler?'

His first impression resembled that of an intimidating wrestling coach.

"You speak our language?"

"A little."

"As long as we can communicate, that's good enough. Follow me."

"Yes, sir."

"Daniel, I'll take it from here. You can go."

"Understood. Mr. Cha, shall we talk? There are a few matters to discuss."

"Of course."

Cha Myunghoon waved briefly before leaving with Daniel. I followed the coach to the training area.

---

When we reached the bench, the coach put his hands on his hips and shouted, "Everyone, gather up!"

The murmurs grew louder as the players assembled.

Once everyone was present, the coach introduced me.

"This is a new player joining us. He's from Asia, so help him adjust and work well together."

As soon as the introduction ended, whispers erupted among the players.

"An Asian?"

"I heard Rodrigo brought him here?"

A player raised his hand.

"Yes, Nizareno?"

The source of the voice was a player who, at a glance, looked like a neighborhood thug. With dark skin and an afro hairstyle, he resembled someone from the underworld, minus a weapon.

"Does he have any skill?"

"Quiet."

"We need to know if the new teammate has what it takes."

"And?"

When the coach frowned, the player—called Nizareno—grinned while looking at me.

"I want to see his skills."

What he said wasn't wrong. Assessing a teammate's abilities was necessary for building trust.

"That's something you'll find out during practice."

At the coach's firm response, Nizareno said nothing further, but the hostility in his gaze lingered.

'Can't exactly poke his eyes out now, can I?'

Clap clap clap clap clap!

The awkward tension was broken by welcoming applause.

"Practice starts in 10 minutes. Warm up with some stretching."

The coach left to talk to the other staff while I began stretching to prepare for training.

"Hey."

I looked up to see Nizareno standing in front of me.

"What?"

"Stretching? That's how you warm up?"

"What's your point?"

"Let's go one-on-one, just to loosen up."

When I didn't respond, he smirked.

"What, scared?"

Several players snickered at his taunts.

As I remained silent, he used his towering height to look down at me with a sneer.

"You chicken?"

"Not even close."

"Cocky brat."

"Likewise."

Backing down here would mean losing everything.

When I didn't yield, Nizareno poked my shoulder and suggested, "Let's make a bet."

"A bet?"

"If you get past me, I'll crawl between your legs and lick your shoe soles."

"Ooooh!"

Cheers erupted around us.

"Going all out, huh, Nizareno?"

Buoyed by his teammates' cheers, Nizareno grinned triumphantly while glaring at me.

"…"

I said nothing, and Nizareno's smug grin grew wider, thinking I was intimidated.

"Hahaha! Look at this rookie! He's frozen in fear! Someone call a doctor!"

I nonchalantly cleaned out my ear and retorted, "What's that noise? A mosquito buzzing around?"

Crack.

"What did you say?"

Ignoring him, I turned to the coach. The coach was watching us with an amused expression.

"Coach, can I?"

With a nod of approval, I picked up the ball from the ground, flicked it up, and struck it backward.

Thwack!

The ball hit Nizareno square on the head.

Laughter erupted from everyone around us, including the coach, who threw his head back and laughed loudly.

Realizing the situation wasn't going his way, Nizareno's face turned as red as a tomato, trembling with rage.

"Hey!"

"Your head's too big."

"What?"

"I just kicked it randomly, and it hit."

I walked up to him, closing the distance despite his height advantage, and said coldly, "Crawling under my legs is boring. Too cliché."

"…"

"If I lose, I'll run around the neighborhood in just my underwear. Deal?"

As I stared him down with ice-cold eyes, the laughter around us died away, replaced by tense silence.

Nizareno faltered, unable to respond, so I took one step closer and delivered the finishing blow.

"If you're scared, just drop dead."