That night, the wind in the city of Porto felt colder than usual.
Arghana had just stepped out of the hotel, intending to enjoy the lively atmosphere of the night, with the city lights glowing along the cobbled streets typical of Portugal.
However, his steps halted when two men approached him.
His heart beat a little faster. This was a foreign country, he thought.
A sense of caution immediately arose, and his instincts told him to be ready if anything happened.
The two men seemed ordinary, dressed neatly but with a hint of mystery.
One of them gave a faint smile, as if reading Arghana's thoughts.
"Easy, kid," the man said in English with a strong accent. "We just want to give you this."
Arghana stared at the document being handed to him.
His eyes quickly caught the words on the front page: "Benfica Trial Invitation."
Arghana's eyes widened slightly. Benfica? Did scouts from this giant Portuguese club notice him?
"We are representatives from Benfica's scouting team," the man continued.
"If you're interested, and haven't given up after the failure at Porto, come to Benfica.
We have a trial session, the final selection match will be held in three days."
Arghana remained silent, his mind racing.
After what happened at Porto, this opportunity felt like a miracle.
"You can come tomorrow to adjust," the man added. "The decision is in your hands."
With that, the two men smiled briefly and walked away, leaving Arghana still frozen in front of the hotel.
He stared at the invitation again.
His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but because of the overwhelming emotions stirring inside him.
The failure at Porto was still fresh in his mind, but now a second chance was in front of him.
Without further thought, Arghana crumpled the invitation in his hand—not to throw it away, but to feel the reality that this was not a dream.
With renewed determination, he turned and entered the hotel. He decided against having dinner outside.
Instead, he ordered room service, then turned on his laptop and began researching deeply about Benfica.
The club's history, playing style, philosophy, the young players developing there—Arghana read it all carefully.
This was no ordinary club.
It was one of the best academies in the world, the place where many great stars were born.
"I haven't given up," he murmured quietly, his eyes fixed on the screen with full determination.
This second chance could not be wasted.
===
In a corner of Porto, the two men who had just handed Arghana the document were casually walking away from the hotel where the boy was staying.
One of them, a tall man with slightly graying hair, initiated the conversation.
One of them asked with a doubtful tone, "Is the kid really talented?
Why didn't Porto want him?"
The other man simply shrugged. "I don't know. Jorge tipped him off."
The gray-haired man furrowed his brow. "Who's Jorge?"
"Mendes," the man replied casually.
The older man seemed surprised. "Is he one of Mendes' players?"
"Oh, of course not. I don't know how he got the info, but Mendes knows about the kid's trial at Porto.
Mendes said he's a hard worker—like a young Cristiano."
He ended his sentence with a small smirk before continuing to walk away, leaving the shadow of the hotel where Arghana was staying.
The older man let out a soft sigh, his eyes drifting for a moment. "Like young Cris?" he murmured.
They both continued walking, leaving the hotel behind.
There was nothing more to discuss.
They had done their job—delivering the message.
The rest was up to the kid.
Meanwhile, in his hotel room, Arghana was busy opening his laptop, searching for information about Benfica.