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Chapter 207 - Chapter 208: Graduation and the Real Beginning (2)

It wasn't just Monica's graduation ceremony that became a hot topic.

A few days later, Ho-young's graduation ceremony became an even bigger sensation.

Journalists and citizens of Madrid swarmed the school just to catch a glimpse of Ho-young, completely surrounding the campus.

Anticipating this, the school had prepared a list of invited attendees and conducted strict checks at the entrance.

Feeling sorry about the trouble, Ho-young decided to gift one of his jerseys to every attendee.

The cost only amounted to about four days of wages, so it wasn't a burden.

When the luxury sedan carrying Ho-young arrived at the school gate, the surrounding crowd erupted into cheers.

"Congratulations!"

"Siuuuuuuu!"

"It's Ho-young!"

And that wasn't all.

One after another, high-end Audi cars rolled in, with hands waving from the windows.

Sergio Ramos, Pepe, Iker Casillas, Guti, Raúl, Marcelo, Mahamadou Diarra, Gago, Robben… countless Real Madrid players had come to visit the school.

It was a rare and extraordinary sight.

But there was an even more surprising moment.

When a black car entered the premises, the crowd exploded.

It was another hatchback model by Audi, the official sponsor of Real Madrid, and it was widely known to be Zidane's car.

Sure enough, the man inside was Zidane.

Stepping into the ceremony hall, Zidane handed Ho-young a bouquet and gave him a hug.

"Didn't you go on vacation?"

"I had to be here. It's not just anyone's graduation, it's yours."

"Ah..."

Ho-young had written Zidane's name on the attendee list but hadn't expected him to actually come, especially since he had left for vacation two days earlier.

"Thank you."

Ho-young was deeply moved.

It was humbling to have such a great man be a part of his life.

The same went for the other players.

For them to give up their valuable personal time to come early in the morning was something to be truly grateful for.

Feeling overwhelmed, Ho-young wanted to share a heartfelt hug with each of them.

But no words were needed between men.

It was enough to just enjoy the thrill of the moment.

"Whoa! Can't believe Young is already graduating. Time flies. He'll be driving himself around before we know it."

"Graduation congrats."

The well-wishes started with Marcelo, who had grown his hair out quite a bit, and Pepe.

Next up was Raúl.

"The ceremony's not over yet, but congratulations in advance. Now you can focus more on training."

"Thank you. I'll be working even harder from now on."

After shaking hands with Raúl, Ruud van Nistelrooy and Robben appeared.

"You're finally free now. Though I bet it'll feel a bit empty. Well, if it does, you could always help Robben with his head. I heard he's been getting hair loss treatment."

"You oaf. It's scalp massage, not hair loss treatment. Anyway, congratulations, Ho-young."

"Thank you both."

Their banter ended with Robben throwing a light punch.

Of course, Sergio Ramos couldn't be left out when it came to jokes.

"Our little guy's all grown up. No need for a calculator anymore, huh?"

"Guess I'll carry a protractor instead."

"For measuring shooting angles on the pitch?"

"No, to smack you with it."

"Hahaha!"

The playful scene drew the eyes of the graduates and guests nearby.

Envy filled their gazes.

And then a girl appeared, causing whispers to spread across the hall.

"Wow, who's that beautiful lady? I think I saw her on the news yesterday..."

To Ramos' question, Ho-young answered firmly.

"My girlfriend."

With the arrival of his grandparents and Monica, the atmosphere among the players heated up again.

They bombarded Monica with questions.

How did they meet, when did they start dating, was she still a student?

It was like they were conducting a full background check.

Meanwhile, Ho-young's grandfather Kim Jae-kyum was chatting up Zidane and Raúl without a care in the world.

The graduation ceremony began soon after.

Just as Ho-young was about to take his seat among the graduates.

"Hey."

A deep voice called from behind.

It belonged to a man wearing odd jeans and a strange red V-neck sweater.

He'd accessorized with a thin pearl necklace and a white belt for flair. Scratching his head awkwardly, he extended a hand for a shake.

There was a moment of silence.

Then the man spoke.

"Just passing by. Congrats on graduating."

"Thank you for coming."

Ho-young greeted him with a big smile.

The unexpected visit was the best gift he could have received.

Except for a few players who couldn't attend due to personal reasons, there was only one who simply didn't want to go.

Karim Benzema.

Sprawled out on the living room sofa, fiddling with his phone.

"Seriously? Going all giddy over some 16-year-old's graduation?"

Benzema was irritated for a simple reason.

He felt left out watching the graduation video Ramos and Arbeloa had posted on Facebook, and it annoyed him.

"It's not like he's the coach. Why's everyone trying to suck up to him?"

More than anything, it was pride that kept him from attending. He hadn't expected so many people to actually go.

Still, at least he had one small comfort.

"That guy probably didn't go either. He's got too much pride."

Benzema sent a text to Cristiano Ronaldo.

[Hey, Cris. Forget those lame kids. Come over to my place for a beer.]

He found Ho-young and Ronaldo equally annoying, but at least Ronaldo was a fellow European, which made him feel slightly closer.

About 30 minutes later, a reply came in.

[I'm at the graduation. Also, I don't drink.]

"You lame bastards!"

Thud!

"Ugh, damn..."

Enraged, Benzema kicked the coffee table and hit his foot.

The pain was brief, but it almost brought tears to his eyes.

Things just weren't working out for him at Real Madrid, the club he had dreamed of.

He was starting to feel like he'd be stuck playing second fiddle forever.

---

September marked the start of the Champions League.

Placed in the easiest Group C, Real Madrid opened strong with back-to-back wins over Zürich and Marseille.

In October, they drew with Bordeaux, but still firmly held onto the top spot.

Their La Liga campaign was going well too.

Although they suffered a defeat to Sevilla, they had already secured eight wins and were off to a flying start.

Barcelona wasn't lagging either.

After investing around €150 million to bring in Zlatan Ibrahimović, Maxwell, Keirrison, and Chygrynskiy, they stood second in the league with seven wins and two draws.

Both teams began preparations for El Clásico, set for November 29.

However, one of the clubs was suddenly hit by misfortune.

It was Real Madrid.

"Damn it."

Late at night in the president's office at Santiago Bernabéu.

Five top executives had gathered, all wearing grave expressions.

The general secretary, vice president, sporting director, technical director, and President Calderón himself.

They were reeling from the emergency situation.

The first issue was the injuries sustained during tonight's La Liga Round 10 match against Atlético Madrid.

"So, Robben's out for at least two months? What about Marcelo?"

"They say it could be anywhere from two to three months. As for Marcelo, around five weeks..."

"Damn it!"

Robben and Marcelo were both injured.

It would have been bad enough if that was all, but it wasn't.

"And Zhirkov?"

"Well..."

Unluckily, the Russian winger Yuri Zhirkov, who had come on to replace Robben, also suffered a knee injury.

Out for six months.

"Sigh..."

You never know what'll happen in football, but this was just too much.

Three players lost in a single day.

"Those damn Atlético bastards."

Calderón ran his hand through his graying hair and cursed.

It was normal for injuries to happen during the Madrid Derby or El Clásico, but not to this extent.

Real Madrid had left for the away match well-prepared, only to lose their future in exchange for three points.

The Champions League was still in the group stage, so it wasn't a major concern.

But La Liga and the Copa del Rey were a different story.

"We had a winger shortage, so we bought wingers, and now all of them are injured? Just get rid of the wingers and try using Benzema instead!"

"But... we agreed to give full authority to Coach Scolari, didn't we? When we signed him, we promised not to interfere with squad management."

"Damn it. We still have Higuaín, right? And van Nistelrooy? How does it make sense to insist on a lone striker when we're paying those guys so much in wages?"

Calderón shouted in frustration.

All the dissatisfaction he'd held toward Scolari burst out at once.

To be fair, there were no complaints about the results.

But when it came to managing the squad, things were disappointing.

He had expected Scolari to control the players with an iron grip like Capello, but it didn't turn out that way.

Now, players were growing unhappy with the wage structure and increasingly demanding raises.

That was the second issue.

The third problem had exploded just yesterday morning.

Despite their best efforts, it showed no signs of improving.

It was related to a business deal in the Middle East.

"Let Sereno handle the wage issue. At this rate, our debt isn't going down, it's going up."

"I'll do my best."

The club's financial status was dire.

To put it simply, they were drowning in debt.

Their one hope, a major project with the United Arab Emirates, was now on the verge of collapse.

"Those Arab bastards. Now they're backing out? So it's okay when Pérez does it, but not me? I've made so many successful deals for Madrid."

"It's because of the controversy surrounding former President Pérez. The club's value took a huge hit..."

"Goddamn it!"

"Still, we're continuing negotiations. We haven't lost all hope..."

"Even so, we can't keep digging a dry well. Suspend the theme park project and recover the investment. Also, coordinate with Scolari and prepare a list of players to offload in the winter transfer window. If we don't act early, we won't get decent prices."

The famine had to be endured.

If they could just survive it, they might catch their breath, but no solution was in sight.

Calderón had no choice but to begin drafting a purge list.

El Clásico, the match that would decide the fate of Real Madrid and Barcelona, was just around the corner.

Players' interviews from both sides became hot topics, but the most talked-about one was Messi's.

When asked if he thought Barcelona could win this El Clásico, he answered:

"We're stronger than we were last year, as proven by our 8 wins and 2 draws this season. The weaknesses we had in the last El Clásico have long been addressed. Now that Zlatan has joined the team, Real Madrid won't be able to stop our attack anymore. I'm confident. They may be strong, but we're even stronger. Our only rival is ourselves."

Messi wasn't the type to say much in interviews.

So the fact that he spoke at such length showed just how confident he was about this match.

His words sent a strong message to Real Madrid.

At that moment in Valdebebas.

Luiz Scolari had called in a few players separately.

The selected ones were Ho-young, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Douglas.

Douglas looked visibly nervous, unfamiliar with the situation.

Scolari then spoke.

"Douglas."

"Yes!"

"Relax."

"Understood."

"You're going to start in the upcoming El Clásico."

"Excuse me?!"

Of course he was shocked.

He had only featured as a substitute in cup matches or lower-priority games, never as a starter.

And now his first start would be in El Clásico?

He didn't even know whether to be happy or worried.

Scolari felt the same.

He believed El Clásico was too big a stage for a prospect like Douglas.

That's why he also called Ho-young and Ronaldo.

"Douglas. Wipe that dumb look off your face and look to your right. There's Ho-young, who's already been named Man of the Match in El Clásico. And on your left is Cristiano Ronaldo, who beat Barcelona twice to reach the Champions League final. With teammates like these, what is there to fear?"

Ho-young and Ronaldo turned to look at Douglas.

Their presence radiated an aura strong enough to make you feel like they could survive even in hell.

Scolari continued.

"Starting today, the three of you will undergo special training to prepare for El Clásico."

El Clásico was coming.

Once again, it would be a war.

(To be continued.)

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