The hum of the plane's engines faded into a gentle rumble as the wheels touched down on the tarmac.
Leon felt a slight jolt, then the familiar sensation of the aircraft slowing.
They were in Madrid. The capital of Spain, and home to the kings of European football.
Stepping off the plane, the air was crisp, carrying a different scent than Milan – a hint of dry heat, a touch of history. The atmosphere in the Spanish capital was already charged with anticipation.
Even on the drive from the airport, Leon saw it everywhere: the iconic white crest of Real Madrid, emblazoned on flags, billboards, and jerseys worn by excited fans.
The city breathed football, and its history felt palpable, a heavy, glorious weight that settled over everything.
Leon, however, felt a different kind of weight. The pressure was immense, far greater than anything he'd experienced before.
