The stadium lights flickered above as Pedro stood on the edge of the penalty area, motionless, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"He's not flashy," murmured the keeper to his coach on the sidelines. "But he only needs one chance."

In training, while others raced to impress with trickery, Pedro focused on timing—one step, two steps, peel off the defender, finish. Always calm. Always calculating.

After yet another scrimmage goal, Gabigol clapped him on the back. “Man, how do you do it? You’re quiet for thirty minutes and then—bam—you score.”

Pedro smirked, eyes fixed on the goal. “Strikers don’t talk. The net does that for us.”

In a country bursting with flair and chaos, Pedro played like a whisper—quiet, sharp, and impossible to ignore.