Pato was fast asleep.
In his dreams, he saw himself achieving unprecedented success at Milan — standing atop the world, draped in gold and silver, surrounded by beautiful women, becoming the most famous footballer in the world.
"Hehehe~~~"
He rolled over in bed, laughing dumbly in his sleep.
BANG BANG BANG!
A loud knock shook the door.
Pato jolted awake.
Sitting up groggily, he was still a bit dazed from the shock.
"What the hell? Who is it?!"
Grumbling, Pato got out of bed and opened the door.
"Good morning, rookie!"
To his shock, Šuker was standing outside.
Tailored dark slacks, a crisp white crew-neck shirt, and a beige trench coat fluttering in the morning breeze.
To Pato, he looked unbearably cool.
Šuker took off his sunglasses and glanced at his Rolex.
"It's 8 AM. You've got five minutes to wash up."
"But... there's no training today," Pato replied in confusion.
"Did I say anything about training?" Šuker said coldly. "Now! Move it! Five minutes — no more!"
Pato instinctively ran back into the house to get ready.
He had no idea what was going on, but if a club legend said something — he had to obey.
When Pato came back out, he looked... well, tragic.
Wrinkled cartoon-print tee, gray cargo pants, scruffy sneakers — an authentic countryside bumpkin in the big city.
At that moment, Šuker finally understood the sheer disdain in Inzaghi's eyes when he'd first looked at him years ago.
Šuker fished out a car key and tossed it to Pato.
It had a prancing horse on it.
"You got your license, right?"
Pato nodded quickly.
"Then let's go — you're driving."
Parked outside was a shiny silver Ferrari.
Pato's eyes glued to the sleek curves of the supercar. He couldn't look away.
Šuker slid into the passenger seat.
"Let's go — Milan city center."
Pato got behind the wheel, grinning ear to ear as he caressed the steering wheel like a long-lost lover.
Šuker's lips curled slightly.
VROOM!!!
The engine roared.
SCREEECH!
The tires squealed — followed by Šuker's furious roar:
"DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE?!"
"Too excited! I'm just too excited!"
Pato stammered and quickly calmed down.
Driving the luxury car through the streets of Milan drew a ton of attention — and Pato was practically floating with pride.
Wind gently blew through Šuker's hair in the passenger seat.
"Remember this," he said coolly. "Once you've made it, all of this will come easily — and much more."
They arrived at Milan city center, parking in the underground garage.
As they stepped into the bustling street, several women instantly locked eyes on them.
Pato was stunned.
SMACK!
Šuker slapped the back of his head.
"Pull yourself together. Don't act like you've never seen the world."
"But... it's my first time in downtown Milan," Pato muttered, rubbing the back of his head.
Šuker patted him on the shoulder.
"Then let me show you around — properly."
Inside one of Milan's luxury malls, they walked into a high-end fashion section.
Šuker began reconstructing Pato's image — just like Inzaghi had once done for him.
Šuker used to be a mutt.
But Pato? He was a purebred mutt, through and through.
"So expensive?! I'm not buying that!"
Store staff blinked at the outburst. Šuker gave a sheepish smile and handed over his credit card.
"Can you not embarrass me like this?"
"That's my entire monthly wage! It's too much!"
"Shut it," Šuker snapped.
Pato zipped his lips immediately.
Šuker picked out an outfit and handed it to him.
"Go change!"
Pato gleefully ran off to the fitting room.
Sure enough — clothes make the man.
Black tailored shorts, a white sleeveless inner layer under a light gray linen shirt with rolled sleeves. Just like that, Pato didn't look like a mutt anymore.
"Still missing something…"
Šuker stroked his chin.
Then casually tossed over his Rolex.
"Put this on."
"For me?!"
Pato was ecstatic.
"Borrowed. If you score five goals this half-season, I'll let you keep it. If not — you pay me back."
"I'll get you ten!" Pato shouted.
"Good. Ten it is."
"Wait…"
After buying clothes, Šuker treated Pato to an upscale French meal.
Then they went to a VIP café on the top floor, overlooking the entire city of Milan.
Pato was buzzing with excitement the whole time.
For a mutt like him, this was a whole new world.
Even more astonishing — wherever they went, people would approach Šuker, ask for his number, and some women even dropped their room numbers, inviting him over.
Pato was green with envy.
But Šuker didn't care at all. He would smile politely, never reject anyone outright — but never take things further either.
"It's all fake," Šuker said quietly. "Those women only care about my fame and exposure.They're hoping to get something out of me.One day, you'll meet someone better — more beautiful, richer, and with class. Don't let stuff like this cloud your eyes."
Pato nodded earnestly.
And coming from Šuker — whose girlfriend was Gisele Bündchen, the world's top supermodel — the words had weight.
Seeing the clarity slowly return to Pato's eyes, Šuker gave a small smile.
Everything he was doing was for Pato — and for Milan.
Because soon, he'd be leaving.
And not just by himself — he planned to take Kaká with him too.
With both stars gone, Milan would need someone to bear the pressure.
Šuker still felt deep affection for Milan. He didn't want to see the club fall apart too quickly.
So, he decided to raise Pato.
His talent was undeniable.
But his downfall came from two things:
Injuries and… Ronaldinho.
The day he met Ronaldinho at the training center was the day his future changed forever.
Pato became the first victim of Ronaldinho's decadent lifestyle.
So now, Šuker was expanding Pato's horizons, using a more luxurious lifestyle to motivate him — and at the same time, building his resistance to Ronaldinho's influence.
Šuker called this:
"The Mutt Makeover Plan!"
Sipping his coffee, Šuker added:
"There's a Milan Fashion Show tonight — I'll take you."
"Fashion show? The one with the wings?!" Pato's eyes lit up.
Šuker was speechless.
Damn it… was I really this much of a mutt once too?
They spent the whole day wandering Milan.
Helping Pato get used to the city — and trying to polish this mutt up a little.
But Šuker quickly realized…
He had vastly underestimated just how much of a mutt Pato was.
Whistling at every pretty girl, acting like some shady street thug — Šuker nearly cracked his skull open.
After the fashion show, Pato drove Šuker back to his luxury villa.
Seeing the massive estate, Pato was stunned.
"Score ten goals this season, and you can have all this too,"Šuker smiled.
Pato felt a surge of motivation.
"Do you have an agent?" Šuker asked.
"Yeah — my Brazilian one."
"You should find someone to handle your European affairs.If you trust your current agent's ability, forget I said anything.But don't spend a single cent from your first paycheck — I'll introduce you to a top nutritionist and private coach.They'll help you adapt to top-league football and unlock your full talent."
"In the next couple of months, while the schedule is light, come to me with anything — ask anything."
Pato's mind was spinning.
Even someone as dense as him knew how crucial this was.
Šuker, Milan's key player, was making time to personally help him.
Being taken under Šuker's wing — this was the start of something big.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"Pato asked, dazed.
At first, he thought Šuker was just a bully — always mocking and pranking him, never showing respect.
But now… everything had changed.
Šuker looked at him and said:
"Maybe… because we were both mutts once."
"I'm not a mutt!" Pato protested.
THWACK!
Šuker kicked him.
"Training at 6 AM every morning.If I hear you've gone clubbing again…" Šuker's voice went cold. "I'll deny you ever had potential."
Pato shivered and walked off grumbling.
Šuker watched him leave.
He didn't know what kind of player this mutt might become — or if he'd truly changed Pato's fate.
But at least…
He tried.
And now, he could leave Milan — with a clear conscience.
And take Kaká with him.