[Ho-young scores a fantastic opening goal! Castilla takes the lead. A smooth start!]
[Incredible. What stands out the most is how restrained his play was. That kind of composure is essential for a goal like that.]
There had been an intricate buildup behind the goal, a process too complex to explain in words.
What mattered was that the masterpiece had been completed.
A solid foundation for victory was now in place.
All that remained was the finish.
However, the impact of the opening goal lingered long after play resumed.
That was true even in Korea, where the match was being broadcast live.
The reaction was explosive, with countless posts flooding various football forums.
[Goal! Goooooal!!!!!!]
└Crazy.
└Look at that coach's face lol, like he just lost his country.
└Was that Busquets? That guy got destroyed lol. Poor kid.
└And the wild part? We're only 30 minutes into the first half lol.
Only 30 minutes into the first half.
The reactions in the two dugouts at the Alfredo Di Stéfano Stadium couldn't have been more different.
While Castilla was in a celebratory mood, Barcelona B was practically a funeral procession. Among them, Busquets was the worst off.
After getting utterly humiliated by Ho-young, he felt like the world was spinning.
'Ah...'
His shoulders felt unbearably heavy.
At just 19 years old, he was already the practical anchor of Barcelona B.
Though he lacked in man-marking and tackling, his spatial awareness and positioning were exceptional.
His stats had been unimpressive at first, but under Guardiola's guidance, he had steadily developed over five months.
He had earned the coach's favor and had even become a top candidate for first-team promotion.
But the defensive midfielder spot in Barcelona's first team was already taken by their new signing this season, Yaya Touré.
That made today his golden opportunity.
And yet—
'I don't think I can do it.'
The player he was facing, Ho-young, was a monster.
No matter what counter-strategy he used, Ho-young would slip away like a mouse into a hole.
Then he'd make you taste humiliation.
It was almost as if he enjoyed it.
"...!"
At that moment, Ho-young met his gaze.
Smirk.
He was staring straight at Busquets with the corner of his lips slightly raised.
'What the...'
Busquets' face stiffened.
As the sweat cooled, a chill crawled up his spine.
Goosebumps.
It ran down his back and wrapped around his entire body.
'What a... freak...'
There were perverts off the pitch, but there was also one on it.
If Guardiola was outside the pitch, then Ho-young was the one wreaking havoc on it.
It seemed the nightmare wasn't over yet.
At that moment.
Ho-young, who was watching Busquets, couldn't stop the twitch at the corner of his lips.
It was because of his talent.
[Sergio Busquets]
[Possessed Talents: Football Prodigy (A+), Exceptional Spatial Awareness (A+2), Razor-Sharp Decision Making (A+), Outstanding Tactical Understanding (A), Excellent Passing (A)]
(More...)
(You may acquire one talent upon fulfilling the conditions.)
(Condition 1: Successfully break through him 3 times)
(Condition 2: Score 2 goals)
It was a talent he could realistically obtain today.
So, he had to stay focused.
There were still over 50 minutes left in the match.
His target was still Busquets.
'He's the type who dominates space more with mentality than technique.'
Busquets wasn't a player who actively intercepted or tackled, but one who took control of space and intercepted passes.
That made him tricky, but in another sense, easier to deal with.
He was weak in man-marking, so all Ho-young needed to do was break through with dribbling.
If Ho-young moved to the left, Busquets would try to defend by shifting around in all directions, but Ho-young had multiple options.
Forward, backward, left, right.
All he had to do was pick the right one.
[The game is flowing in a similar pattern after the opening goal. One side is trying to accelerate the pace, while the other is slowing it down.]
[But Castilla is ahead in possession, with 64%. Their pass success rate in midfield and the second line is over 90%, and they've already made more than 220 passes.]
[That means Castilla could score again at any moment.]
On the other hand, Bojan Krkić, who had drawn high expectations, was sluggish in his movement.
His title as the greatest prospect of all time was starting to sound hollow.
[Bojan seems to be heavily affected by the tactics. Probably due to Guardiola's influence. He's focusing too much on playing the way the coach wants, so he can't show his own strengths.]
[He's not adapting to the team's style. When the team is off, the individual suffers too.]
[Exactly.]
The commentary was spot on.
Bojan occasionally showed flashes of danger, but they didn't lead to real chances.
And he wasn't having much impact on the game.
Normally, that wasn't the case.
But today.
With Busquets, who was supposed to link the attack and defense, mentally shattered, Bojan ended up isolated too.
Just then—
[Bojan's touch sends the ball out of play. Castilla will take the throw-in.]
[The players are dropping back to check for space in the center.]
Throw-in for Castilla in their own half.
The designated taker was Gorka, their left winger.
Ho-young dropped slightly toward the left touchline to receive the ball.
At the same time, Guardiola stood right on the touchline, barking instructions and repositioning his players one by one.
"Focus on Ho-young! Don't take your eyes off him!"
Guardiola's voice reached Ho-young.
Ho-young's gaze sharpened.
In that moment, their eyes clashed in mid-air.
The scene was zoomed in and displayed on the stadium screen, drawing gasps from the crowd.
They could feel the fire in both of them.
But there was a key difference between the two.
Guardiola was a coach.
He couldn't step over the touchline onto the pitch.
The only thing he could do was raise his voice.
But Ho-young could move across the field freely.
That was the biggest difference between them, and Guardiola's clear limitation.
And then.
Thump.
Gorka hurled the throw-in, landing it precisely at Ho-young's feet, starting Castilla's attack.
Gai Assulin tried to close him down, but Ho-young's smooth turn opened up a lane.
The flow on the pitch changed from that point.
From a slow build-up to a sudden counterattack.
The ball quickly crossed midfield and started threatening Barcelona's defensive line.
[Ho-young, charging forward! A solo run over 20 meters! He's already past the halfway line, approaching the penalty area! Still going—ah! He slows down here. Is it back to a slow build-up?]
[That's not the real issue. Spaces are opening up everywhere. The Castilla players have caught fire. They're riding momentum. For Barcelona, this is a headache. Even being just 1 or 2 seconds late could be—]
While the commentators raised their voices, exactly 2 seconds passed.
And the situation only worsened for Barcelona.
Tap.
This time, Ho-young's pass targeted the space behind the left flank.
"Run!"
Gorka received the pass and immediately returned it to Ho-young.
[Ho-young! Relentless off-the-ball movement, constantly creating space. Busquets, who's supposed to manage space, looks completely lost!]
[Even ten bodies wouldn't be enough. That kind of movement can't be handled by one player alone. It has to be a team effort.]
[Ah, did Guardiola underestimate Ho-young?]
[Not at all. Barcelona's entire strategy today was tailored to counter Ho-young. He didn't underestimate Ho-young. He overestimated Busquets.]
Busquets, sitting in the defensive midfield line, tried to cover the field by moving in all directions, but it wasn't enough.
"Bloody hell!"
By the time he gathered his thoughts, Barcelona was already in chaos.
The situation changed with every blink.
Ho-young used his dribbling to create space, then slipped in a surprise pass to the flanks, opening up the back line.
When the return pass came back, he broke through the front line with a sprint.
With attention pulled in his direction, marking on lone striker Callejón grew sloppy.
'Damn it...'
There was no rhythm to follow.
There wasn't a single stable area on the pitch.
And at the center of it all stood Ho-young.
"You bastard!"
Boiling with frustration, Busquets cursed under his breath.
Then—
"Don't lose focus! Look at the bigger picture! The wingers are helping in defense! Stay focused and hold out!"
Guardiola's voice rang in his ears.
At the same time, something he'd said earlier flashed through Busquets' mind.
—Busquets, you must prepare for all of Ho-young's unpredictable plays. If you succeed, you and I will move up to the first team together.
Guardiola's promise of a call-up.
That single line sparked something in Busquets.
That was the moment the head-on battle with Ho-young truly began.
'Bring it on.'
Busquets clenched his jaw.
So did Ho-young.
'Let's go.'
Facing Busquets head-on, Ho-young initiated a psychological battle.
'The flank?'
There was no time for deep thought.
That one second would decide the outcome.
One second passed.
'No.'
He gave up on breaking through the flank.
Barcelona's wingers were tracking back to help in defense.
With more defenders filling the pitch, the flanks were becoming clogged.
The full-backs were tucking in, and even the box was becoming crowded.
'But.'
That was where the opening was.
The brief moment when the situation transitioned from "danger" to "safety."
Ho-young targeted that in-between phase.
"...!"
He gave a silent signal to Callejón up front.
Callejón understood immediately.
While strikers open attacking routes, it's the playmaker who makes it possible.
That was the talent of Zidane.
Now it belonged to Ho-young.
"God!"
Tap!
Ho-young's grounded pass slipped cleanly through Busquets' legs.
Busquets hurriedly tried to close his legs, but the ball had already passed into the box.
"Ah!"
Too late.
Right in front of goal.
Callejón received the pass and shielded the ball with his back to goal.
All eyes turned to him.
Busquets instinctively rushed at him.
If he could cut this off, the danger would pass.
But—
Callejón didn't shoot. He turned to the right instead.
Despite the heavy pressure on his back, he gritted through it.
Then he spotted Ho-young bursting in from the opposite side.
He timed it perfectly and slid a ground pass in that direction.
It wasn't a pre-arranged play.
It was a one-two pass born from trust and team chemistry.
Tap!
The receiver was Ho-young.
It was a quick pass, but he handled it like a baby with his exquisite ball control.
And then—
'Open.'
As the shooting angle fully opened, Ho-young followed through with an instep strike.
A crisp, decisive shot.
The finishing blow that sent Barcelona into hell.
Thwack!
The net rippled violently.
"That's what I'm talking about!!"
Callejón, who had assisted, ran after Ho-young.
Ho-young spread his arms and sprinted toward the stands.
"Woooooh!"
"Uooooooooh!"
The crowd exploded in thunderous cheers, as if lightning had struck the stadium.
The energy peaked.
The first half belonged to Ho-young.
(To be continued.)