Camp Nou, President's Office.
Two men in tailored suits sipped red wine.
Barcelona president Joan Laporta opened his mouth once more.
"Honestly, it's funny even to me to ask whether we can win. Let me rephrase that. Can you keep things going the way they've been lately?"
"I'm just doing what I always do."
"Well, that puts me at ease. It's been a long time since I've felt this good."
"I'm glad to hear that. I'm just grateful for your trust."
The man, dressed sharply in a crisp suit and exuding fashion sense, carried an air of dignity.
It was Pep Guardiola, Barcelona's manager, who had been on an incredible run ever since a loss and a draw at the start of the season.
"I didn't expect you to do this well, to be honest. I mean, who would have thought a new manager could produce these kinds of results?"
Laporta had made a bold decision by appointing Guardiola as the first-team manager, enduring fierce criticism from the socios early in the season.
When the team struggled, voices demanding Guardiola's sacking were deafening. But now, those criticisms had vanished as if they'd never existed.
It felt like all the built-up tension had finally been released.
Laporta had suffered greatly over the past two years, having to cede the championship to Real Madrid.
Not just in terms of results. There had been numerous small and large failures in club management.
He tried to ease the socios' discontent by attempting to sign Cristiano Ronaldo, but that transfer failed. Bojan, once seen as the final hope, failed to meet expectations and only added to the fans' disappointment.
But the biggest blow of all had been losing Ho-young to Real Madrid.
It was a transfer failure that could easily go down as the worst of the 21st century.
Yet after all the hardships came salvation in the form of Guardiola.
Employing a football philosophy different from the conventional approach, he successfully turned Barcelona into a monstrous team, earning praise from all corners.
Even so, President Laporta's thirst remained.
To become the best, they had to beat the best.
That meant defeating Real Madrid in the upcoming El Clásico next month.
They had to beat Real, who were barely clinging to the top spot.
"I hope I feel as good next week as I do now."
"I'll do my best."
"You seem confident. That puts me at ease."
"To be honest, I'm also quite concerned. As much as I hate to admit it, Madrid is a formidable team. Raúl, Zidane, Casillas, Carlos, Salgado… players who've tormented us for years are still there. And with Van Nistelrooy, Robben, Sneijder, Malouda, and Higuaín, they've got one of the strongest squads in the world."
"And of course, there's Ho-young."
Ho-young.
At that name, Guardiola frowned.
It brought back memories from when he had been manager of Barcelona B last year.
They had lost twice to Ho-young's Castilla. Just the thought made him scowl.
Eventually, after leaving the president's office, Guardiola, as always, sank into deep thought.
For 24 hours a day, except when sleeping, his mind was filled with football.
But ever since yesterday, it had only intensified.
'Ho-young.'
Despite losing to him twice last year, he felt better prepared to stop him now.
His current tactics were far more refined compared to back then.
But the same applied to Ho-young.
After watching last night's Copa del Rey match against Real Unión, he realized something.
'He's becoming more and more complete.'
But nothing in this world is truly perfect.
Everything has its gaps.
'We need a tailor-made tactic that hits their blind spot.'
El Clásico was just around the corner.
With heavy worries and pressure on his shoulders, Guardiola made his way to the training ground.
Meanwhile, in Korea, Real Madrid's Copa del Rey match had triggered a huge response.
The hottest buzz, unsurprisingly, came from Korea's "WooHooHyung" fan café and the Real Madrid community site "Real Dangsah."
[Ho-young Shining at Real Madrid. Succeeding as Zidane's heir, will his future position be attacking midfielder?]
[Ho-young, transforming Zidane's art football into his own style!]
[A stepping stone for a new leap. A match with no signs of team discord… Real was united.]
As articles like these flooded the Real Dangsah, the free discussion board, which had the fastest posting activity, was packed with football fans.
[Author: Power-type]
[Everyone, this is Real Madrid!]
└Absolutely amazing. Schuster is a true tactician. No matter how much the anti-Madrid media slanders us, results speak louder than words.
└It was moving. I honestly almost cried watching the match. Thank you, Real Madrid, for the great performance. And thank you to Ho-young, who made me a Madridista. His performance was incredible.
└Ugh… my hands and feet…
└Is this that Real Dangsah place that celebrates beating a third-division trash team?
└Let them be. It's been a while since they won, they must be happy.
└Even Messi could do that.
└He could do it with one foot.
└He could do it lying down.
└He could do it blindfolded with his feet tied.
└Here come the damn Cules again. Aren't you tired? Go back to your own site. And come on, Ho-young's still young.
└He's about to turn 17. How long are we going to keep calling him a kid? Pele played in the World Cup at 17 and scored a hat trick.
└Exactly. As a fellow Korean, I'm embarrassed. I know Ho-young's good, but stop comparing him to someone like Messi. Tell him to beat Robben first, who's in the same team.
└Have you even seen Ho-young go up against Chiellini?
└Have you seen Messi dribble past an entire team from the halfway line and score? He already has 18 goals this season.
└Talent, skill, experience—Messi is way ahead. If he wants comparisons, he should go win the Golden Boy first. Oh right, Messi's about to win the Ballon d'Or.
[Among similar types: Messi >>>>> insurmountable wall >>> Ronaldo > Torres > Robben > Ribéry > Rooney > Van Persie > Ho-young ≥ Robinho. This is the truth.]
└That's it lol
└You actually know football lol
└Getting in line here.
└Messi above Ronaldo? Come on lol. Every expert's already saying this year's Ballon d'Or is Ronaldo's.
Cules from the Barcelona fan site "Coreancule" had come flooding into Real Dangsah, lighting up the boards with spam like the above.
In response, the site administrator started banning their IPs and launched a counterattack on the Coreancule site.
In the end, both sides declared a temporary truce, saying they'd settle things in the upcoming El Clásico in December.
As December arrived, the weather turned bitterly cold.
It truly was a hellish schedule.
Matches came every 3 to 5 days without rest, some even requiring long-distance travel, adding to the fatigue.
Still, after regaining momentum with the last Copa del Rey match, Real Madrid managed to get through their next five games with 2 wins and 3 draws.
And then came December 7.
Barcelona extended their winning streak to 12 matches, pulling 3 points clear of Real Madrid.
By Round 14 of the league, the standings looked like this:
<1> Barcelona – 12 wins, 1 draw, 1 loss – 37 points – 49 goals scored, 7 conceded
<2> Real Madrid – 10 wins, 4 draws – 34 points – 31 goals scored, 16 conceded
<3> Valencia – 9 wins, 3 draws, 2 losses – 30 points – 32 goals scored, 18 conceded
Real Madrid's chance to turn things around would come in El Clásico on December 13.
As the day of the showdown drew closer, a tense atmosphere settled over Madrid.
11 a.m. that morning.
While Lucci was attending a meeting with Nike, Ho-young was on his way to the training ground in Kim Jae-kyum's car.
"This time three years ago… do you remember?"
"Of course. That was when Grandpa drove down this road and said we should bring Raúl and Zidane home."
"Haha. My grandson really kept that promise. But why haven't you brought Raúl?"
"To be honest, I'm not that close to him personally. He's a bit difficult to approach."
"Probably because he's the captain."
"That's what I think too."
"But let me ask you something. Ho-young, how are you so damn good at football? Your dad couldn't even kick a ball and only played goalkeeper during school."
"Maybe I got my DNA from you, Grandpa."
"Haha. Well, I did have a bit of a reputation back in the day."
As they enjoyed the rare time together, they soon arrived near the training ground.
Once they got onto the HM2 road, they began seeing people holding cameras and placards.
[NO5. Z I Z O U!]
[NO7. El Ángel del Madrid!]
"No matter how many times I see this, it still makes my heart race."
"Why? Haven't you ever stopped for them?"
"I have. The number of fans is growing exponentially."
Indeed, Real Madrid's supporters were as passionate as ever.
But today, one particular placard caught Ho-young's eye.
[NO10. Woo, El Salvador!]
"Oh! Can we stop for a moment?"
"Of course. If the Savior asks, the driver obeys."
"Hahaha."
El Salvador.
He couldn't just pass by after seeing the word for "savior."
He had the car pull over, rolled down the window, and was greeted by a wave of cheers.
Ho-young signed autographs and took photos with the fans.
Just as he was about to leave—
"You're handsome!"
Smile.
Responding with a grin, Ho-young returned to the car.
Praise for his looks always felt good, no matter how many times he heard it.
As Ho-young got in, Kim Jae-kyum smiled with pride.
"Heh. Must have taken after your mother. Where did that face even come from?"
Honestly, Kim Jae-kyum was more curious about that than Ho-young's football talent.
Valdebebas First Team Training Ground.
Marcelo, who had arrived earlier, greeted Ho-young.
"Yo! Young man!"
"You're early. But your hair's gotten a bit long, hasn't it? Thought you were a roasted chestnut for a second."
"...Does it look weird? I was thinking of growing it out."
"I think an afro would suit you."
"Oh? I was actually considering it. You think it's allowed? They won't start messing with our hairstyles too, will they?"
"Of course not. But doing that would be betraying the Bald Quartet."
The Bald Quartet.
A nickname for the defensive line of Carlos, Marcelo, Cannavaro, and Pepe, coined by Sergio Ramos.
"Oh look, here comes the conductor of the Bald Quintet."
Marcelo gestured toward the manager's office, where Zidane was waving at Ho-young.
"You're here, Young. Got a moment to talk?"
"Always happy to talk with my mentor."
The two moved to a separate spot to talk.
In a slightly more serious tone than usual, Zidane began.
"El Clásico is next week. How do you feel?"
"It doesn't feel real yet. Just training with you feels like a miracle already."
"I feel the same. When I first saw you, I wondered, 'Will I get to see him in El Clásico if he makes the first team someday?' And now, that day has come. It feels surreal."
"I feel the same. And I really wish I could play alongside you."
But that was no longer likely.
Zidane was in decline, and Ho-young was on the rise.
He was nearly ready to take Zidane's place entirely.
Feeling bitter about the passing of time, Ho-young changed the subject.
"So, when does training start?"
"Probably once the manager comes out. He's been deep in thought about El Clásico. When I went to see him earlier, he was still unsure about how to structure today's session. I gave him some advice."
"What kind of advice?"
"He asked how to counter Barcelona's possession football, so I shared my thoughts."
"Barcelona's possession football, huh…"
Then, suddenly—
"…!"
Before Zidane could finish, Ho-young sprang to his feet.
"Coach is in his office right now?"
After confirming that, he immediately made his way to the manager's office and knocked on the door.
Seeing him, Schuster asked,
"What is it?"
Ho-young calmly replied,
"Coach. I might be able to help."
"What?"
Schuster narrowed his eyes.
Ho-young continued,
"I know a little about their football."
(To be continued.)