Halftime, Away Team Locker Room.
Kwakwakwang!
A metal box containing a soccer ball and extra soccer cleats fell to the floor, creating a loud noise as it hit the ground.
The next sound was even more deafening—the iron locker collapsing with a sharp crash.
It was Zlatan's tyranny.
"You son of a bitch!"
He wanted to spit in the face of Guardiola, who was looking at him with pity right in front of him. Zlatan could no longer contain his anger.
Guardiola, incredulous, tried to stay calm.
"You're making a mistake now. Think about the consequences of your actions, and then act."
"You think too much. After losing to Mourinho's Inter, your mind went completely blank. Do you even realize that?"
"I have absolutely nothing to say."
"It's not that you have nothing to say, it's that you can't. You're not even a man. You're just a coward. Just go to hell."
Zlatan spat the last word and left the locker room, heading for the bathroom.
The room fell into an eerie silence. Some players, who usually wouldn't dare to speak out against Guardiola, merely watched his expression. Captain Carles Puyol quickly stepped in, attempting to manage the situation.
This outburst had been a long time coming.
When Zlatan first joined Barcelona last season, everything had seemed fine, especially when he was played as the central striker. But things changed after Messi had requested a meeting with Guardiola, saying, "I want to try to score more goals."
This request led to Zlatan being moved to the wing. Guardiola had always been stubborn about his tactics, and it was clear he favored Messi. In fact, the entire club had begun to center around Messi, and Zlatan couldn't help but feel sidelined.
As Xavi and Iniesta continued to pass to Messi, their scoring opportunities diminished, and their form began to drop, which only deepened the tension. Today, that tension finally exploded.
If the team had been playing well, perhaps it could have been ignored. But that wasn't the case anymore.
It's all over.
Guardiola sat in silence, lost in thought, as he began tidying up the scattered iron boxes. He couldn't shake the sense that this was the end.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the stadium, loud voices echoed through the home team locker room.
"Yeaaaaa!"
"Siuuuuuuuuu!"
"Downpour!"
Ronaldo and his teammates shouted joyfully in Portuguese. The celebrations grew louder as Woo Ho-young performed his signature ceremony, causing the atmosphere to become more electrified.
If they won today, it would almost guarantee the championship for Real Madrid. The remaining fixtures—Almeria, Valencia, Zaragoza, Osasuna, Mallorca, Athletic, and Malaga—held no real threat, with Barcelona being the only serious challenge left in La Liga.
"If we do well, we might even go for a double this season."
"A double sounds great."
"Heh heh heh."
The players laughed and joked, dancing and celebrating, while Woo Ho-young returned to his seat—Marcelo's seat, smiling brightly.
"By the way, is the back of your head okay? It looked like Zlatan hit you pretty hard earlier."
"It's okay. It's a bit painful, but I'm satisfied since I got him sent off."
Marcelo, who was five years older than Woo Ho-young, gently patted him on the back.
"Be careful, guys. You never know what they might do today."
"Okay."
Woo Ho-young understood the caution. As Marcelo pointed out, Barcelona could be desperate now and may come at them with everything. It was a risky situation—one in which they might resort to reckless attacks, feeling they had nothing to lose.
Just then, Scolari entered the room, silencing the chatter.
"Everyone, listen up."
Scolari's presence immediately calmed the atmosphere, and the playful mood shifted to one of focus.
"The opponent is down to 10 men and the score is 2-0. But we cannot let our guard down until the final whistle. The most important thing here is to avoid injuries. Our goal is to win, and there's still the Champions League to consider. I trust you'll do well without me having to say anything further."
"All right."
The players nodded in agreement. The tension remained—after all, a cornered mouse might bite the cat.
The second half began with few surprises.
With Zlatan off the pitch, Marcelo, who had more freedom, joined the central defense to help Pepe and Gago keep Messi at bay. Meanwhile, Woo Ho-young dropped into midfield, where he and Xabi Alonso pressed Barcelona's midfielders hard.
[Barcelona is pressing intensely, but they're struggling to break through Real Madrid's layered defense. To waste energy like this early in the second half is a gamble.]
[Lionel Messi makes a move. He cuts inside and glances left.]
[Thierry Henry tries to penetrate the defense.]
Most expected Messi to pass, but instead, he attempted a daring run to the right.
It was a decision only Messi could pull off.
[Lionel Messi! He passes back to Xavi, then makes a return pass!]
[Quick one-two pass!]
[He escapes Fernando Gago's shadow and breaks to the right! Marcelo rushes to close him down, but… Ah! Messi sneaks in through the gap!]
Despite Barcelona's crisis, Messi remained Messi. He ran fearlessly, aided by Xavi and Iniesta, neutralizing the tackles around him with smooth dribbling. In the blink of an eye, he was in the penalty area.
His agility, coming from his small frame, left the onlookers in awe.
[Lionel Messi! How far will he go? He might even beat Pepe!]
The shot was almost on target.
Phew!
[Woo Ho-young's tackle!]
In a pivotal moment, Woo Ho-young sprinted and stole the ball from behind, just in time.
The loose ball was safely gathered by Casillas.
"Fuck!"
Messi, unable to contain his frustration, ripped off his hairband and collapsed to the floor. His eyes burned with anger, glaring at Woo Ho-young.
'You crazy bastard.'
It was a bitter and strange realization. How could a player like Woo Ho-young exist in this world?
Messi thought back to when he first saw him at the Beijing Olympics just two years ago. Since then, Messi had made incredible progress, but Woo Ho-young had surpassed him and grown even further. It was impossible to comprehend.
Wasn't Messi supposed to be the one regarded as unmatched in terms of genius and potential?
His anger flared. It felt as if everything he had worked for, everything he was destined to enjoy, was being stolen from him.
And now, Messi was no longer confident. He was afraid—afraid of how far Woo Ho-young would go.
Meanwhile, Woo Ho-young clenched his fist, acknowledging his growth.
[Explore Tarzan's surprise shot blocking (SU) 37 days later.]
He had reached the third level of defensive talent after Vieira and Cannavaro.
'Now I'm confident in defense.'
Woo Ho-young was on the rise.
By now, he had explored almost every talent available in Spain. Xavi's passing ability and Iniesta's pressure-relieving skills were highly desirable, but for now, he had to set those ambitions aside.
'Winning the Champions League with Barcelona is an impossible goal.'
It was a talent he would have had to abandon had he not joined Barcelona. But now, as a Madridista, the idea of ever becoming a part of Barcelona again seemed impossible—unless circumstances drastically changed.
Still, there was no need to be discouraged.
'It's quite replaceable.'
One day, they would find former players to replace Xavi and Iniesta's talents and pursue top-tier talent from other leagues. Through this, they would rise higher.
The ultimate goal was to surpass human limitations and accomplish everything a soccer player could—starting with winning the Champions League and earning the Ballon d'Or.
'I can do it.'
His heart raced with excitement.
He felt like he could achieve anything.
And there was plenty of time to make it happen.
So, Woo Ho-young ran once more, pushing forward to live up to his nickname of 'Barcelona Killer.' A hat-trick today was also his goal.
[The fourth El Clásico since Guardiola's appointment reached the 60th minute.]
[Guardiola sat on the bench, looking like a man who had given up on everything.]
For him, today would be a day of no return. After the game, he would have to answer endless questions about what had happened.
The game was slipping away.
Barcelona had been in disarray for a while now, and their organization was falling apart. It was fortunate that Iniesta and Xavi were still holding the midfield together. Without them, Real Madrid's possession rate might have been close to 90%.
As time passed, Barcelona's stamina started to wane. This was perhaps their worst performance of the season.
Real Madrid seized the opportunity and made the most of it.
In the 70th minute, Ronaldo intercepted a long pass into the box and fired a sharp shot.
Crash!
[Wow! Real Madrid's winning goal! Cristiano Ronaldo scores his 40th goal of the season!]
[It's his 40th goal and his 27th in La Liga. He's now just two goals behind Lionel Messi.]
Yet Guardiola remained motionless on the bench. Normally, he would have yelled at his players, but today, he had neither the strength nor the will to do so. He just hoped that this nightmare would end soon.
But it didn't end there.
Crash!
[Gooooooo! Substitute Karim Benzema scores with a rebound!]
[Before that, Arjen Robben's curling shot was an absolute masterpiece. A work of art from the left foot.]
5-0.
The away section fell into a stunned silence. Even the occasional cheers had vanished.
Then, Woo Ho-young made his move.
[Woo Ho-young attempts a surprise breakthrough.]
[Woo Ho-young, Woo Ho-young, one more move! Just like that, shoooooooosh with his right foot!]
[Gooooooooo! Hat trick! Woo Ho-young scores his hat trick! He finally bags one in this El Clásico!]
[What a run and finish. Puyol and Piqué tried, but they couldn't keep up. You need to react two beats faster to stop that kind of speed.]
"Downpour!"
Woo Ho-young's hat trick sealed his reputation in big matches.
Victory was a bonus, but the win was almost certain.
Beep—
[6-0. Real Madrid wins El Clásico. This must be the best day for Madrid fans.]
[No doubt about it. Real Madrid is now 10 points ahead of Barcelona and are practically guaranteed to win the title.]
Barcelona had been routed 6-0.
A result that shocked millions of soccer fans worldwide.
But the next day, an even bigger shock dominated the media.
[Pep Guardiola's emergency press conference, sudden resignation announcement.]