It happened just five minutes into the intense tactical battle.
The pace of the match, which hadn't allowed for a moment of distraction, began to slow down. The tempo gradually dropped until it was nearly halved, and the game started to feel sluggish.
It was the perfect situation for Castilla.
They had escaped Barcelona's suffocating press and regained their composure.
Like a car that had shaken off a ten-ton truck with headlights blaring in pursuit, they had pulled into a service area to catch their breath.
Naturally, Guardiola was screaming his lungs out.
The tactics he had meticulously prepared were not working.
"Damn it."
The art of slowing the game.
In fact, this wasn't the first time Ho-young had used this kind of play.
Flawless playmaking.
Since acquiring Riquelme's playmaking three months ago, Ho-young had repeatedly showcased it in matches.
Guardiola had prepared countermeasures for it.
Rather than defending space, he anticipated Ho-young's relentless ball retention and touches used to neutralize pressure.
To deal with that, Guardiola instructed both full-backs to push into midfield.
The plan was to close down Ho-young's space and shut down his playmaking.
But the real problem wasn't Ho-young's playmaking.
"Damn. He's pushing up the back line while dropping the wingers deep to create space for Ho-young. I didn't expect Mandía to twist it again like this."
While Castilla's formation had been announced as a 4-2-3-1, once the match began, they raised the defensive line and pulled the wingers deeper.
It was closer to a 4-4-1-1.
With Ho-young alone operating in the second line, he had the space to freely conduct his playmaking.
A smoke screen tactic.
There was no need to reveal their true roles before the match even started. That had been Mandía's intention.
It was basic psychological warfare, something every coach should be mindful of. Guardiola had fallen for it.
He had made the mistake of overtrusting his own ideas.
Despite being a Barcelona legend and a rising coaching star, he was still a rookie as a manager.
While he may have had tactical knowledge built from his playing days, his experience as a manager was still lacking.
He often received criticism for lacking flexibility due to his obsession with perfection.
Indeed, Guardiola's football philosophy was professional and precise.
But that also meant it was rigid.
And today, that weakness had already been exposed in the early stages.
Thus, Mandía, coach of Castilla, had won the psychological battle.
He had started his career as a simple analyst for the first team's tactical department and had managed Real Madrid C, Juvenil, and Cadete before taking charge of Castilla.
While he might be inferior to Guardiola in tactical depth, he was more adept at managing games.
[If Guardiola was focused on the trees, Mandía was seeing the forest.]
[That's a fair comparison. But it's not as though Guardiola saw only the trees. Look over there. He's pacing up and down the touchline, moving around busily. You could mistake him for a schoolteacher. Still, his voice brings his players back into focus. He's a quirky figure, but a commanding presence.]
[If the rumors of Rijkaard's sacking are true, Guardiola could really become the next first-team manager. President Laporta seems to favor him quite a lot.]
[Haha. Even Laporta's a gambler, but that seems a bit extreme. Barcelona's practically a sinking ship at the moment.]
[That's exactly when a gamble is needed. We might see the result of that decision in today's match.]
Guardiola frantically revised his tactics.
But tactics were merely tools. The ones who executed them were the players.
And how well they were utilized depended on those players.
In other words, the real influence lay with the control towers of each team: Ho-young and Busquets.
When Busquets tried to speed up the game by instructing the press, Ho-young slowed it down again through extended possession.
Classic Riquelme-style playmaking.
It tore through Busquets' pressing.
He tried to handle it with all he had, but after ten, then fifteen minutes, Busquets' spatial awareness was reduced to nothing more than dead weight.
'…This is hard. It's getting more and more difficult.'
Growing desperate, Busquets looked for a breakthrough under Guardiola's instructions, but improvising a solution against the opponent's tactical setup was easier said than done.
Worse still, another issue was emerging.
Swish, swish, swish.
Although the pace of his passes was almost frustratingly slow, Ho-young's off-the-ball movement was sharp and fast.
It was already hard enough to deal with either aspect individually, but mixing both into one style was dizzying for Busquets.
Typically, when trying to do both at once, imbalance occurs.
But Ho-young showed no such signs.
Riquelme's style was traditionally vulnerable to fast man-marking due to its slower pace.
Kaká's playmaking, by contrast, was built on explosive bursts and transitions.
In essence, Kaká's traits were covering Riquelme's weaknesses.
Likewise, Kaká tended to struggle against organized pressing, but Riquelme's talents compensated for that too.
This was the result of football intelligence and tactical understanding coming together.
Not conflict, but harmony.
Flawless playmaking.
Even with Guardiola's carefully crafted plans, as long as the players couldn't keep up, there was no stopping Ho-young.
Even Busquets was struggling.
Whistle!
"Sergio!"
"Yes!"
During a break after the ball went out for a goal kick, Busquets ran over at the coach's call.
"You need to keep linking the back four and the midfield. Communicate with the full-backs. Also, bring the wingers back into defense and narrow the space between them and the full-backs. Get the players in open spaces moving more actively. Restore the rhythm that way. Understand?"
[Guardiola is giving Busquets specific instructions.]
[But Busquets is scratching the back of his head, looking a bit unsure. Is he not understanding the instructions?]
[Haha. Just a side note, but Guardiola actually had experience as a de facto manager even before coaching Barcelona B. While still an active player.]
[Is that even possible?]
[It was during his time with Dorados de Sinaloa in Mexico. He used to carry a black notebook during training and matches, recording everything meticulously. Apparently, he even directed the team on tactics during games.]
[Haha. That's rare. No wonder he became the kind of coach he is. A model student eccentric. His future definitely looks promising.]
The battle between the managers had come to an end.
Now came the real part of the match, after the tactical probing.
Having gradually seized control and raised their possession rate to 60%, Castilla began to bare their fangs.
It was when the home crowd's voices reached a fever pitch.
"¡Vamos!"
"Castilla!"
A magic chant.
At that moment, the white beast that had been lying dormant sprang to life.
The team's central figure, Ho-young, made a pass to the left.
Tap.
Left midfielder Gorka received the pass and drove forward along the touchline without hesitation.
There wasn't even a need for eye contact.
Gorka already understood the meaning of Ho-young's pass.
It was ingrained in him through countless repetitions in training and matches.
Though they had only played together for five months, their teamwork was already better than Barcelona B's.
It was thanks to Ho-young, who bridged the gaps in the middle of the pitch.
From there, Gorka advanced sensibly up the field, forming a 4-3-2-1 shape.
Ho-young looked forward.
Striker Callejón, who had been constantly shifting flanks all match, was currently pulled to the left.
Then it happened.
Tap.
Gorka's return pass rolled toward Ho-young, who had been quietly drifting around.
'Now.'
Deceptively casual.
Ho-young moved the ball with near-supernatural control, disguising the direction of the next pass.
Then, in an instant, he unleashed a through ball to the right.
"Here!"
The ball sliced through the turf to the right flank.
A massive gap had opened there, wide enough for a ring-around-the-rosy dance.
It was the product of Castilla's organized movement.
But it wasn't complete yet.
A masterpiece needed a finish.
And from the second line came a fierce burst of movement.
A storm.
Kaká-style playmaking and penetrating into open space.
Ho-young's aggressive off-the-ball run threw Barcelona's defense into confusion.
"Stay compact and cover the middle! Central midfielders, take the flanks! Don't move without thinking! Don't just watch the players and the ball, look at the space!"
Guardiola shouted frantically, trying to reorganize the defense.
But the players' bodies didn't respond to his will.
The ball was already circling near the penalty area, and in the blink of an eye, a dangerous situation developed.
Tap, tap.
The ball was back at Ho-young's feet.
About 19 meters from goal.
As he readied his shot, Busquets stepped up to block him.
He had been moving tirelessly, but now he was entirely focused on stopping Ho-young.
Busquets concentrated with everything he had.
'Long shot. Drive-and-run. Dribble. Pass to the left.'
He covered every possibility and stepped in closer to narrow the angle.
Ho-young dodged two steps to the side.
The space was tight, but it didn't matter.
A 50-centimeter radius was the same as a full meter for him.
"...!!"
Insane rhythm.
Ho-young's dazzling footwork threw Busquets into a daze.
It looked like a street shell game with a football.
Despite his 180 cm height, Ho-young moved fluidly from head to toe.
There was no awkwardness in his movement.
Only then did Busquets realize just how remarkable this player was.
He might be a level above Bojan.
No, maybe even…
'Two levels…'
Tap.
The ball slipped cleanly between Busquets' legs.
A nutmeg timed perfectly to exploit the slight gap.
"...Ah!"
Busquets reacted quickly and turned around, but by then it was already a one-on-one with the goalkeeper.
"Ooooooooh!"
As the ball approached the goal, the crowd began to roar louder and louder.
But to Ho-young, everything felt dead silent.
It was a psychological battle between attacker and keeper.
Calmness belonged to Ho-young. The tension belonged to the goalkeeper.
Tap.
Ho-young stayed composed and struck a quick and clean toe-poke, robbing the keeper of his chance to react.
A flawless goal.
"Uooooooooh!"
A thunderous cheer shook the stadium.
Ho-young's celebration ignited the stands.
The freezing pitch suddenly burned with heat.
So much so that it seemed even the stiff grass would wilt from the intensity.
Castilla fans erupted in wild excitement, chanting Ho-young's name.
It was pure ecstasy.
There were no soft cheers or delicate voices here.
Both men and women alike screamed with all their might, savoring the moment.
One fan, face flushed with excitement, even leapt over the fence and ran onto the pitch, lips puckered, charging at Ho-young.
"Whoa!"
Fortunately, the security team intervened in time to prevent the kiss.
Judging by the strong smell of alcohol, the fan had clearly had a few drinks. Ho-young responded with a hug to calm the situation.
It was the first time something like this had happened to him, and it was a bit overwhelming, but he took it as part of the culture.
This was the charm of a derby match.
A flawless start.
(To be continued.)
◇◇◇
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)