The distance to the goal was about 14 meters.
In this unexpected one-on-one opportunity, goalkeeper Javier Jimenez lowered his stance to guard the goal.
At 28 years old, he was a veteran keeper.
He wasn't especially quick in terms of reflexes, but his command of the box and situational awareness made him an above-average goalkeeper in the Segunda División.
Most importantly, his experience gave him an edge in psychological battles.
He was especially good against young players with no professional experience.
The first goal might have been due to a blocked line of sight by a defender, but this time was different.
A one-on-one.
Of course, in such situations, the attacker has the advantage.
A goalkeeper cannot cover the entire goal, while the attacker can aim anywhere, including lobbing the ball over the keeper.
That's why angle management is crucial for goalkeepers.
While this is a tough task for most, Jimenez had confidence in that aspect.
In a split second, his gaze turned sharp.
'Come on.'
On the other hand, Ho-young remained calm.
The composure he had acquired from Lee Chung-yong and the teachings of Ronaldo had helped immensely.
From the moment the ball stuck to his foot, he maintained inner peace.
He told himself it was just like playing in his neighborhood.
As he sprinted toward the goal, he gradually slowed his pace.
With about 8 meters left.
It was time to make a decision.
Jimenez shifted his weight downward.
He subtly edged to the left, trying to bait Ho-young into shooting the other way.
It was a psychological ploy to induce a shot to the opposite side.
Ho-young resisted the temptation.
He couldn't beat the seasoned instincts of a keeper who had played in the professional league for years with mind games alone.
'Stay composed.'
The key was not to fear the one-on-one.
He couldn't let excitement get the best of him.
If he stayed composed, the result would follow.
That was Ronaldo's secret to scoring.
Ho-young kept his shooting stance hidden until the very last moment.
A clumsy mind game could backfire. He would rely on skill alone.
Tap.
He struck the ball with a quick, clean instep shot from his right foot.
At that very moment, a crisp sound rang out.
Thud!
The ball flew like a bullet, slamming precisely into the bottom left corner of the net.
And at the same time.
"Wooooaaaaaaahhh!"
A roar erupted just before the end of the first half.
It was as if thunder and lightning had struck the pitch. Thousands of fans jumped to their feet.
"¡Esta excelente!!"
Excellent.
There was no other word that fit.
Teammates came rushing from behind to embrace Ho-young and celebrate Castilla's second goal.
[It's a goal! Ho-young's second of the match widens the gap between the two sides!]
[The fans in attendance today will never forget this moment. I'm certain of it. This match will be remembered and talked about for years to come. As the incredible debut of a young player who will someday star on the world stage.]
The sharpness in Jimenez's eyes faded.
Looking utterly defeated, he stomped on the grass in frustration.
Ho-young, in contrast, smiled.
This goal carried a special meaning.
It was different from all the goals he had scored so far, starting from the process itself.
Until now, he had mostly relied on instinct and brute force.
But this shot was the beginning of his evolution into a true goal-getter.
Pweeep.
As Castilla's second goal concluded the first half, a close-up of a single player appeared on the big screen.
"So good-looking!"
Ho-young.
As he flicked his head to the right to brush away his sweat-drenched bangs, the camera captured it.
Then he ran his hand up through his hair, drawing reactions from the stands.
"He looks even better with his hair up."
"Of course it's Real Madrid. That title isn't handed out for nothing. You have to look like royalty to be called one. Unlike those Barcelona punks."
The crowd went wild.
Some fans even forgot to go to the bathroom, too busy talking about the first half.
They had come early to kill time before the Real Madrid first team match, and ended up witnessing something incredible.
Where else could you see a match like this?
It truly felt like a stroke of luck.
The excitement lingered in the air.
Everywhere, shouts of "Fantastico" echoed like a chant.
The first half ended with a dominant lead for Castilla.
And no one was more pleased than Perez.
Watching from the VIP box at the top of the stands, Perez's eyes and ears were busy.
Voices of the club executives beside him followed.
"Signing Ho-young was a masterstroke. I'm sure Laporta must be fuming right now. Even when Rexach recommended him, he didn't even give the kid a look."
"Word is, they've already decided Pato is the successor to Samuel Eto'o."
"Haha. Let them have Pato then."
They were overly praising the president's decision, indirectly flattering him.
In truth, Perez had once attempted to sign Pato during this transfer window, only to be rejected.
He had intended to use him as a backup to Robinho, but Pato's agent had insisted on guaranteed starting minutes, which ended the negotiations.
It was a disappointment.
But now, with Ho-young playing so explosively, the disappointment over Pato faded significantly.
No matter how much Pato was called the "next Ronaldo," he wouldn't have delivered a debut like this.
'Today is perfect.'
It was a moment that proved the past 20 months of investment had paid off.
Ho-young.
So much money and effort had been poured into supporting that little kid.
Personal coaches, diet plans, school, lifestyle, housing. Every aspect of his life had been backed by the club.
'It was a masterstroke.'
To be honest, Perez hadn't even paid attention when the scouting report on Ho-young first landed on his desk.
He had scolded Antonio Soriano for bringing it and told him to look into Pato instead.
How could anyone have known things would turn out like this?
"Heh heh."
Perez stood up from his seat with satisfaction.
"Not staying for the rest?"
"This is enough. Time to head to the Bernabéu."
The second half?
There was nothing left to see.
Though the score was still 2-0, games like this rarely turned around.
Perez was 90% certain.
Despite being a politician, he wasn't clueless about football.
'There has to be something to flip for a comeback to happen.'
Chuckling in a low tone, the old man left the stadium.
Inside Deportivo Alavés's locker room.
Stale air filled the space.
The score was only 2-0.
Normally, they would rally and plan a comeback, but the mood was utterly grim.
They couldn't accept the fact they had been wrecked by a 14-year-old.
Especially Ivan Campo, the 33-year-old team captain.
'I've been playing 19 years longer than that kid.'
The idea of a schoolboy tearing apart his entire team was simply unbearable.
'It makes no sense.'
How could someone that age play football like that?
It wasn't just shock at a football prodigy. There was also a vague sense of fear.
Most of the players who played the first half felt it.
Their mental game was already broken.
The locker room atmosphere kept deteriorating.
If even the captain was like this, there was no hope of turning things around.
Even someone like Benitez, the "magician," would struggle to lift this squad.
Still, Coach Rafael gathered the players to refocus their minds.
"I just don't understand."
"…"
"Lift your heads!"
"…"
"Do you call yourselves professionals? How many years have you been playing? One? Two? Some of you have been doing this for five or six years, and yet you're being shown up by a middle schooler? Aren't you warriors of the Basque Country?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you do it?"
"… Yes."
"Our goal is promotion to the first division. Get out there, lift your heads, and become the protagonists."
With that, the Alavés players braced themselves and left the locker room.
The second half began with thunderous cheers from the home crowd.
"Press them!"
"Crush them!"
The match resumed much like the first half.
But since Castilla's team chemistry wasn't particularly strong, they needed to secure the result before things could slip.
[Ho-young is now starting to draw serious attention from the opposition.]
[He looks okay for now, but as the second half progresses, his stamina might become an issue. The other players need to support him more.]
The pressure on Ho-young intensified.
It was on a whole different level compared to what he experienced in the Juvenil league.
Each moment required more energy, and he burned through stamina faster.
But it was the season opener.
He wanted to play the full 90 minutes.
He wanted to be the star today.
He wanted to savor this feeling until the very end.
But he didn't overdo it.
He simply pushed forward, unwavering.
His teammates supported him.
The second half played out in a similar pattern to the first.
There was no sign of a comeback.
The Basque warriors of Alavés tried to rise, but collapsed again.
From the stands, a chant spread out and filled the stadium.
"Woo woo! Woo woo!"
A spontaneous chant quickly took over the crowd.
Fans of Castilla, young and old, were going wild over the play of a 14-year-old boy.
Hot air brushed past the back of Ho-young's neck.
This felt like the real stage.
These were Real Madrid fans.
Fans who truly cheered for him with all their hearts.
Even as the Alavés defenders intensified their marking in the second half, Ho-young used the roar of the crowd as fuel and finished the match strong.
As the second half drew to a close.
The match had completely tilted to one side.
3-0.
Alavés players couldn't lift their heads.
They didn't even want to think about what the headlines would say or what fans might shout at them.
Ten minutes later, the long, long season opener came to an end.
Pweeep!
Just beneath the radio studio, the main camera captured Ho-young's face.
His image filled the stadium scoreboard.
Ho-young stopped walking and squared his shoulders with pride.
Then.
Standing before the roaring crowd, he thumped the club badge on his chest with a clenched fist.
The crown granted by King Alfonso XIII of Spain.
He grasped it between his thumb and index finger and raised it toward the camera.
It was the birth of a new crown prince, carrying the spirit of an emperor, right here in Castilla.
After the match, a post-game interview took place in the underground press room.
Captain Miguel Torres, the youngest player Ho-young, and Coach Mandía sat at the table.
Naturally, most of the questions were directed at Ho-young.
Flashes lit up like fireworks as countless questions flew his way, and Ho-young, suppressing the overwhelming emotions, calmly answered.
"I want to thank President Perez and my agent Lucci for helping me be here today. I'm also grateful to Ricardo Kaka, Maestro Zidane, and Il Fenomeno Ronaldo for shaping the player I am. I hope this energy carries over to Real Madrid's opening match later today."
Then he delivered a legendary closing line.
"And I'm still hungry."
Soon after.
When the Segunda División office announced Ho-young as the official Man of the Match for the season opener, an article published by the Madrid press dominated portal sites.
[The Ho-young That Barcelona's Laporta Let Slip, Spreads His Wings at Real Madrid]
At that very moment, someone was reaching for a drink.
(To be continued.)