No one could have predicted South Korea would score the opening goal.
But if it were to happen, everyone agreed that the scorer would be none other than Ho-young.
And then it actually happened.
[GOOOOOOOOOAL! A stunning strike from Ho-young! South Korea takes the lead!!]
With his fifth goal of the Olympics, Ho-young caught up with Pato to share the top spot on the scoring chart.
Not only was South Korea dreaming of their first Olympic bronze medal, but the possibility of Ho-young claiming the Golden Boot also had the entire nation abuzz.
Netizens watching the live broadcast online were in a frenzy.
Comments poured in non-stop.
[Ugh, I bet on Robinho scoring first. That brat falls over every time he moves.]
[Goosebumps on my arms. Guys, is it just me?]
[Hang in there, boy wonder! One more goal and then lock it down!!]
[Wait… are we actually going to win the bronze medal?? Damn.]
[Military exemption + Golden Boot = Double the market value, right?]
[Uh? Guys, the weird Bbang-sang guy just showed up on the jumbotron.]
While the comments were being flooded with Ho-young's name, a live shot of Brazil's bench appeared on the stadium screen, and chaos erupted again.
Ronaldinho had just jumped out of his seat.
[We're screwed. The alien's up. Earth's about to end in 1 minute.]
[Ah… Ronnie, please… stay seated. You said your ankle's injured, right? Don't push yourself, yeah?]
[Hey, this is a fight among humans. No extraterrestrials allowed. Put your gums away and sit back down.]
As football fans, not being able to see Ronaldinho play was a shame. But for South Korea, it was a tremendous stroke of luck.
If he had been on the pitch, they wouldn't even have had hope of winning.
Perhaps understanding the hopes of Korean fans, Ronaldinho sat back down.
Then he turned to Ronaldo, sitting next to him.
"That's him, right? The genius you were talking about."
"Yeah. The one Zidane and I have been tutoring."
Ronaldinho remembered Ho-young's name.
There were only a handful of players in the world Ronaldo had ever acknowledged as geniuses.
But since Ho-young wasn't playing in a top-tier league, Ronaldinho hadn't paid him much attention.
Besides, he already had his own protégé, Messi.
But watching him today, Ronaldinho couldn't help but be intrigued.
His eyes sparkled with a hunger for something more.
"They told me not to play today."
"You shouldn't. You're injured."
"But at this rate, who knows. Anderson's completely lost his nerve."
"Well, can't do much about it. I'm also holding back until Dunga sends me on."
Ronaldo wasn't in top condition, but he was eager to play. This could very well be his last international tournament.
Still, it was only the 15th minute of the first half.
Manager Dunga didn't think it was the right time yet.
Sending on an injured Ronaldo too early could backfire if he got hurt again.
He was Dunga's final card.
And the manager still had confidence.
'Beginner's luck ends here.'
Even if they couldn't stop Ho-young, all they had to do was score two or three goals.
It wasn't baseless confidence.
They were Brazil, after all.
Sure enough, just a short while later, Dunga's expectations started to come true.
Brazil's attack line, made up of Robinho, Pato, and Jô, began to show its firepower and eventually carved out a decisive opportunity.
36th minute of the first half.
It started with Robinho breaking through.
[Robinho cuts in from the left flank toward the center. Ki Sung-yueng! He has to stop him!]
Tap.
"Urgh!"
But Robinho beat Ki with a fake step, then followed up with an upper-body feint that turned Kim Min-soo into a training cone.
The shot came right after that.
Thud!
[Great save by Jung Sung-ryong! The ball spills out after hitting his hand! It needs to be cleared quickly!!]
Pato, lurking on the right, reacted like lightning and went for the loose ball.
Kwon Chang-soo tried to get there, but he couldn't match Pato's explosive speed.
Rip!
It was an equalizer and Pato's sixth goal of the tournament.
"Wooooooh!"
Pato ran to the crowd, arms spread wide.
He was declaring himself the rightful Golden Boot winner with his whole body.
Robinho came over and patted Pato on the head.
"Next time, pass it to me. We can't let that kid take second place in the scoring chart."
"Of course."
Their eyes turned to the halfway line.
There was Ho-young, trudging back with a bitter expression.
"Heh. Looks like he's lost his spirit."
Robinho couldn't stop smiling.
But his joy didn't last long.
Beep!
The game resumed.
Korea calmly rotated possession and began regaining momentum.
They slowly increased their share of the ball, working through Ho-young to escape Brazil's pressing.
It was a move to turn the tide.
[Looking good. The spacing between players is excellent. If they keep playing short, crisp passes like this, they can take control of midfield.]
[Yes, Brazil's pressing is intense, but Ho-young is all over the place, protecting the ball. He's showing more flexibility and creativity than in the Argentina match.]
Growth.
Since that match, Ho-young had matured.
He held the ball centrally, keeping it away from the wings and disrupting Robinho's rhythm.
Frustrated, Robinho started to mentally blame his teammates.
'What's our attacking midfielder doing?'
Anderson.
At 20 years old, despite being a Manchester United squad player, he was completely overwhelmed by Ho-young.
Robinho had it wrong.
It wasn't Ho-young who had lost confidence. It was Anderson.
He was still too young.
He had the talent, but not yet the experience or the skill to carry a team like Ronaldinho could.
Ho-young targeted that very weakness.
And just before the end of the first half, the breakthrough came.
Ho-young received the ball near the box and went for the shot.
But then, a sudden turn of events broke the balance of the match.
Thud!
The ball struck Alex Silva's body and went out.
Ho-young immediately raised both hands with a frustrated look.
"Handball!!"
[It hit his hand! Alex Silva clearly reached out on purpose! That was deliberate! A blatant handball foul!]
Panicked, Alex Silva had basically turned into a handball player, swatting the shot away with his hand.
The referee had a clear view of it. There was no way he'd miss it.
As expected.
Beep!
The referee pulled out a yellow card.
Then, Ho-young approached and quietly said something.
"That's his second one."
Immediately, the red card came out.
"Oh my god!"
[Alex Silva! Sent off with a second yellow!]
A massive hole opened in Brazil's defense.
Korea was awarded a free kick, and Ho-young stepped up to take it himself.
No one questioned his decision.
Roughly 18 meters from goal.
While Brazil's players were still reeling, Ho-young took his steps and struck the ball with confidence.
The net rippled in the top-left corner.
Rip!
[GOOOOOOOOOAL! Ho-young! Fires in a rocket of a free kick to give South Korea the lead! That's Ho-young for you!]
And with it.
[Sharp Free Kick (A-) ↑]
"Hooah!"
After calmly scoring his second goal, Ho-young clenched both fists and celebrated.
2-1. All they had to do now was hold on.
But the game was far from over.
As the second half began, the intensity only grew.
Dunga dropped Robinho and Anderson deeper to help defend.
In turn, he ordered the full-backs to push higher and overlap.
The tactic worked.
Around the 70th minute, Marcelo managed to score off an overlap.
The match was tied again.
Even with reduced attacking power compared to the first half, Brazil remained dangerous.
The score was 2-2.
"Ooooooh!"
"This is amazing! Somebody just score one more!"
The back-and-forth drama had the fans roaring.
It was a match worth every cent of admission.
Then, in the 80th minute.
The game still had no clear direction.
The battle was so intense that it looked destined for a penalty shootout.
As the players began to run out of energy, the game lost its rhythm and devolved into a gritty fight.
A brawl.
Rough challenges were happening all over the pitch, and yellow cards kept flying.
Neither team had any room to retreat.
Korea's players, eyeing military exemption, threw themselves into every tackle.
Even with their faces covered in blood, they held their positions.
But their limits were showing.
As valiant as their efforts were, heart alone couldn't make up for the skill gap.
The wall was too high.
They lacked the quality to hold off Brazil's samba football.
Even with a numerical advantage, Korea was beginning to fall behind.
Robinho, blinded by his desire for the Golden Boot, kept squandering chances by being too selfish in front of goal.
That was the only reason the score remained tied.
In the British commentary booth, the pundits said:
[If Ho-young had been in Robinho's position, he would've scored at least one more.]
[No doubt about it.]
Finally, in the 83rd minute.
Dunga subbed off Robinho and sent in Ronaldo.
"I can still play!"
"Stop being stubborn and sit down."
"Ugh…"
And just like that, Robinho's Golden Boot dream was over.
All he could do now was pray Brazil would at least win the bronze medal.
Beep.
Right after the restart, the tide shifted again.
At the center of it was Ronaldo.
Despite being 31, he had scored 14 goals in Serie A the previous season.
With veteran poise, he tore through Korea's defense.
He was a human weapon.
Korea barely survived one goal-scoring chance thanks to a last-ditch tackle by Ki Sung-yueng, but he was sent off for the challenge.
Their numerical advantage was now gone.
[They need to stay focused! There's not much time left! Everyone needs to give a bit more!]
[That's right. Just a little more effort, and they can hang on.]
Each minute felt like an hour.
Eventually, the clock ticked into the 90th minute.
Despite their exhaustion, Korea made one last push.
It all started from Ho-young's feet.
[Final counterattack chance! Ho-young beats Lucas! Ho-young! He's bursting forward! Ho-young! Open space on the right! He's sprinting!]
Smack!
A counter to the counterattack.
Ho-young touched the ball forward and burst ahead.
With every ounce of energy he had left, he sprinted.
His solo run stretched over 40 meters.
The ball started to slow down near the 30-meter mark from goal.
But it wasn't a miscontrol. It was deliberate.
He had seen the goalkeeper off his line.
At that moment, Ho-young's eyes narrowed.
[Ho-young! Cuts inside!]
He shifted direction sharply, carving open the perfect shooting angle.
It was his favorite spot.
Ho-young bit down hard.
The perfect chance.
He exhaled once to stay calm.
Then gently nudged the ball to the right and struck hard underneath it, channeling all his strength into his ankle.
Boom!
Breno threw his body in desperation, but instead of blocking the shot, he obstructed the keeper's view.
Ho-young's shot blasted forward like a cannonball.
Its destination was the bottom left corner.
Rip!
And at that very moment.
"WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
Pandemonium.
At just 15 years and 37 days old, he had become the youngest Olympic hat-trick scorer in history.
His seventh goal of the tournament.
The game-winner.
The stadium erupted with deafening cheers, drenching Ho-young in roars.
But he couldn't hear any of it.
Only the thunderous beating of his heart echoed in his ears.
'Finally.'
[Your talent vessel is now full. Elastic Muscles of the Black Panther (10 days) is now queued. Extraordinary Ball Keeping (13 days) is now queued.]
[In 23 days, you will acquire Thunder Thighs of Cha Boom (L).]
It was over.
But now was not the time to celebrate.
Tick.
91st minute.
The clock was still ticking.
Ho-young calmed his racing heart and jogged back to the halfway line.
The stadium screen showed 92 minutes.
Time continued to pass.
And then.
Beep.
Full-time.
A radiant smile bloomed across Ho-young's face.
It was the same moment Robinho's face at the bench completely crumbled.
(To be continued.)
◇◇◇
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)