Winter Transfer Window
The winter transfer window.
An agent came calling.
"Hello."
An agent showing up wasn't particularly strange. Even if I'd been an agent myself, I would have gone after a striker putting up fifteen matches and seventeen goals in La Liga.
"This is who I am."
Still, this was outside my expectations. The business card the man handed me had the name Jorge Mendes printed on it.
"I would like to become your agent."
I'd known he would say something like that, of course, but I was still caught off guard. Everyone he'd signed was a heavyweight. Beyond Ronaldo and Mourinho, he'd locked down contracts with countless famous players, so my surprise was only natural. It meant I'd become a player worth a seat at that table.
"I'll discuss it with my family and get back to you."
"Ah. That was thoughtless of me. Of course. I'll take my leave for today, then."
I already knew how that future played out, but I still wanted to hear what my family thought. Listening to them first wouldn't cost me anything, so I called my father right away.
"Yeah, if you want to do it, do it. Still, take the contract to the club once and have them check it over. There might be some weird clause in there."
He gave me the green light. Checking the contract myself was something I'd planned to do anyway. Even a famous agent was hard to trust completely. Of course, if he wasn't an idiot, he wouldn't have planted anything shady in the paperwork—but verifying never hurt, so I handed Jorge Mendes's contract over to Barcelona for review.
Two days later, the club came back with word that everything checked out. The moment I saw that reply, I called Jorge Mendes.
"I'll sign."
After that, Mendes came to our house and spent about three hours talking with the family.
"You won't regret signing with me."
When the conversation was over, he stood at the door with a look full of confidence.
"Of course not."
What was there to regret? I'd just signed with the man about to become the biggest name in the business.
But that unshakable certainty must have looked odd to Mendes.
"Usually when I say that, people treat me like a con man. You're different, Junho."
"You're the one I chose. Once I decide to trust someone, I trust them all the way."
At that, Mendes's expression shifted from puzzled to serious.
"Haha. That puts a heavy load on my shoulders."
"It should. You're my agent."
He nodded.
"Fair enough."
Agreeing with a nod, Mendes glanced for a moment at a tree standing nearby and went on.
"Like the flowers on that tree, our relationship will bloom and wither from time to time—but I'd like us to keep it going."
Maybe the mood had gotten to us. The line would have made me cringe any other day, but right then it didn't sound strange at all.
"Same here."
We shook hands and parted ways.
Having an agent made itself felt immediately. Before, my father or mother had to handle ad inquiries and all sorts of other offers. Once I had an agent, I didn't need to think about any of that.
"Signing was the right call."
Apparently those changes hadn't escaped Jieun's notice either.
"Hmm.... Looks like we're going to have a lot more free time from now on."
She seemed perfectly happy about the extra free hours the agent had bought us.
"Want to go out and look around for a change?"
"Let's."
With time on our hands, I took her up on it and we headed out. Walking the streets with Jieun, all kinds of sights caught my eye—and true to a city obsessed with football, murals of Barcelona legends were painted on walls everywhere.
"Oh...."
As we wandered and took in the surroundings, I even ran into a fan of mine.
"H-hello!"
She looked about four years old—a tiny little girl.
"I'm a fan!"
Calling herself my fan, she pointed at her own T-shirt.
"Could you sign it, please?"
"Got a pen?"
"Here."
There was no reason to refuse. I took the pen from her and signed the shirt.
"Wow! Thank you!"
Embarrassed, the moment she had the autograph she thanked me and ran into the arms of a woman who looked like her mother.
"So cute....!"
Once the girl was gone, Jieun spoke up.
"Every time I see something like that, I think... I want a kid like that too."
"Yeah?"
I didn't particularly mind the idea of having a child right now. If it were some unprepared high-school parents, that would be a problem—but I was already earning serious money as a footballer. And for all that I said it casually, the truth was I wanted a child of my own too. In my past life I'd always been alone, so I knew how precious this life was. A child with Jieun, one of the people most precious to me... that would make me truly happy.
"Then let's do it."
That was why that answer came out of me, no question.
The night that little fan had set alight finally passed, and the next day I showed up at the training ground as always.
"Yaaawn......"
"Didn't sleep much?"
I asked Messi, who was mid-yawn.
"Nah. Yawns just come out naturally even when you've slept plenty, right?"
"True enough."
I was the same—no matter how much I slept, mornings always brought a yawn.
"You really do need a burger on a regular schedule."
"You had a burger yesterday?"
"Yeah. Haa... After so long without one, the patty just melted in my mouth. Best meal I've had."
"Saying it like that makes me want one too."
The moment Messi said it, it hit me—the crunch of the vegetables, the taste when you bit into them with the patty in between.
"Ah.. Messi, now I want one too."
"Want to go get one today, then?"
"Should we?"
After the brutal diet control I'd been putting myself through lately, treating myself to a burger as a reward didn't seem like a bad idea at all.
"Messi, you had a burger again?"
Jorge appeared behind us.
"Ah.. yeah."
"Then you're doing extra training with me after today."
"Go easy on me..... Jorge."
Training with Jorge was brutal, so I understood why Messi was pleading—but Jorge wasn't having it.
"Then you shouldn't have eaten the burger."
"Ah....."
Nothing to be done. Jorge had already caught him.
"Messi, I'll do it with you, so don't worry. They say sharing the pain makes it hurt less, right?"
Jorge's workouts were hard, sure, but nothing built a body quite like them.
"Who said that?"
"Huh?"
"Who said something like that?"
Well, even asked, I couldn't say. I'd heard it somewhere in my past life, but I had no idea who.
"I heard it somewhere."
"Haa.... Junho, in my opinion, whoever said that is a real piece of work."
"Why?"
"Sharing pain doesn't split it up. You just walk into the suffering together."
Messi said it with a gloomy look on his face.
"Ah, is that how it works?"
Hmm. Hearing it put that way, he might have a point.
"Well. Anyway, thanks for training with me."
He didn't really need to thank me. I was doing the work because it was good for my body too. Still, I didn't bother saying that out loud.
"We're friends."
Messi looked almost moved by that.
"Yeah. Friends.. yeah."
Right then Coach Frank walked in, and training began. When the session ended, we stayed late into the evening working out and building that bond.
"Huuuuh.... Somebody save me."
"We're nowhere near done."
That night, screams rang out across Camp Nou.
Time kept moving, and before I knew it half the 2004–2005 season was gone. And half a season gone also meant I'd turned another year older.
"Eighteen...."
It felt like only yesterday that I'd been reborn, and already I was eighteen. Complicated feelings stirred in my chest.
"Let's make this year a fun one too."
This time, though, I wasn't alone—so I shook those feelings off quickly enough.
And a new year meant the winter transfer window was open, so Barcelona saw its share of moves.
New blood came in.
And existing pieces left Barcelona behind.
Plenty happened, but the league kept rolling. Barcelona didn't lose a single match—they tore through La Liga.