While Lorenzo was thousands of feet above the Atlantic, the digital landscape in Argentina had turned into a war zone.
It was late at night in Buenos Aires, but the internet was far from quiet. Videos and reports of the conflict at the Ezeiza Training Center were being dissected, shared, and debated by millions of football-mad fans. The narrative, however, had been carefully curated.
Marcos, the High-Performance Coordinator, had wasted no time. Within hours of the incident, several prominent sports outlets, reporters who relied on Marcos for "exclusive" access published a series of scathing, emotionally charged articles.
The headline on Diario Deporte led the charge: "Terror at Ezeiza: Spanish-Raised Talent Brutally Attacks National Coordinator and Teammate!"
The accompanying photo was perfectly framed for maximum outrage. It showed the tall, athletic Lorenzo standing over a bloody Facundo, his fist clenched. Another image showed him shoving Marcos, the man responsible for the country's youth development.
The reports ignored the career-ending, studs-up tackle that had started it all. Instead, they painted Lorenzo as a "European-born bully," an arrogant outsider who looked down on his father's homeland and used his La Masia pedigree to act with total lawlessness.
Under the harsh glow of computer screens, thousands of "keyboard warriors" were venting their fury.
"Who does this kid think he is? Just because he wears a Barcelona shirt in training, he thinks he can hit a national selection player?"
"He's not one of us. He grew up in Spain. He has no respect for the blue and white! This is a criminal matter!"
"I knew these 'dual-nationality' kids were trouble. They come back thinking they're saviors and then act like thugs. Ban him! He should never be allowed back on Argentinian soil!"
"To strike the High-Performance Coordinator... it's an insult to the entire Federation. Throw him in jail and strip his eligibility!"
Even in 2013, the power of viral outrage was terrifying. The AFA Youth Department issued a formal statement shortly after midnight, officially "expelling and permanently blacklisting" Lorenzo from all future national team call-ups, citing "gross unprofessionalism and violent conduct."
Barcelona, Spain. It was early evening.
After the long twelve-hour journey, the plane finally touched down at El Prat Airport. The Mediterranean air was cooler than the oppressive heat of Buenos Aires, and as Lorenzo walked through the terminal, he felt a weight lifting off his shoulders.
He hadn't notified La Masia of his early return, so there was no official car waiting. He didn't mind. He easily hailed a taxi for himself and Lucia, giving the driver an address in the Les Corts district.
Most of the nearly two hundred trainees at La Masia lived in the dormitory at the Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper. Lorenzo, however, was part of a smaller group of "day students." His father, having found immense success in the Argentinian supermarket industry, had purchased a modest but elegant three-story villa for him just a short distance from the training grounds. On weekdays, a housekeeper arranged by his family took care of his meals and recovery. Since it was the weekend, the house was empty.
"Lorenzo... look at this. They're actually doing it. They're going to this extreme!"
In the back of the taxi, Lucia was scrolling through the latest updates on her phone. Her delicate brows were knitted together in fury, and she thrust the screen toward him.
Lorenzo scanned the report from the Argentinian media. A cold, cynical smile touched his lips. It was exactly as he expected. The father-and-son duo were being portrayed as martyrs. Facundo was the "innocent victim," and Marcos was the "dedicated servant of the sport" who had been assaulted.
"The power of a bribe," Lorenzo remarked, his voice calm. "Marcos probably spent more on those reporters tonight than he did on the training equipment at Ezeiza."
"But it's not fair!" Lucia's face was flushed with anger. "They're making you out to be a monster. The Federation has already issued a lifetime ban. They're saying you're a disgrace to the shirt."
"A disgrace?" Lorenzo shrugged, leaning back against the seat. "The only disgrace was that trial. Do they really think I care about their ban? I was already done with them the second Facundo aimed for my ankle."
He looked out at the familiar streets of Barcelona. The neon signs of the shops and the distant silhouettes of the skyscrapers felt more like home than the training ground at Ezeiza ever had.
"I came here to play football, Lucia. Not to navigate the egos of middle-managers and their spoiled kids. If Argentina wants to throw away their future for the sake of Marcos's reputation, that's their loss. My career is here."
Lucia gripped his sleeve, her eyes softening but her resolve remaining firm. "But you were so excited to try out. You wanted to honor your family. To have it end like this, with them slandering you..."
"I vented my anger. I broke Facundo's lip and I shoved the man who tried to ruin my career. I'm satisfied," Lorenzo said, patting her hand. "The truth doesn't matter to the people in that comment section. They want a villain. Let them have one."
However, Lucia shook her head stubbornly. "No. I won't let them do this to you. They didn't see what I saw."
She pulled her phone back and opened her gallery. She scrolled past photos of their childhood until she reached a video file from that afternoon. She hit play.
The footage was shaky but clear. Lucia had been filming from the stands, capturing the moment Facundo lunged. It showed the clear, malicious intent, the studs aimed high, the lack of any attempt to play the ball. It also captured the moments after, where the coach and coordinator stood by and did nothing until Lorenzo retaliated.
"I have the whole thing," Lucia whispered, her eyes burning with determination. "I have friends at some of the international agencies and the bigger papers in Madrid. If the Argentinian media wants to lie, we'll just go over their heads."
Lorenzo looked at the video and then at the girl beside him. She had always been his fiercest defender, even when they were kids.
"It won't be easy," Lorenzo warned. "Marcos has deep roots."
"I don't care about his roots," Lucia replied, her voice steady. "I care about the truth. You're going to be a star, Lorenzo. I won't let them put a stain on your name before you've even started."
Lorenzo didn't stop her. While he was content to let the world think what it wanted, he knew that in the professional world, a "thug" label could affect his contract negotiations. If Lucia wanted to fight this battle, he would let her.
As the taxi pulled up to the gates of his villa, the System chimed again in his mind.
[Ding! Side Quest Triggered: The Court of Public Opinion.]
[Objective: Let the truth of the Ezeiza incident be revealed to the public.]
[Reward: Silver Treasure Chest * 1!]
Lorenzo stepped out of the car, looking up at his home. The Argentinian chapter was closed. Tomorrow morning, he would return to La Masia, not as a boy looking for his roots, but as a professional ready to claim his kingdom.
"Alright, Lucia," Lorenzo said softly. "Do what you have to do. I'll handle the rest on the pitch."