Was it just his imagination?
Becoming an unprecedented football prodigy felt completely different.
It was surreal to think that, across the entire world, across the history of football itself, no talent like this had ever existed before.
'Phew.'
Thump.
This feeling... it had been a while.
He only remembered feeling something like this when he acquired Zidane's talent or when he met Ronaldo.
Ho-young, in the middle of physical training, felt his hands and feet trembling.
First ever in history.
Why did that phrase excite him so much?
Breaking the youngest record?
It was on a completely different level from that.
Not even Pelé, Maradona, Messi, or Cristiano Ronaldo had possessed a talent like this.
This was a talent that even they never had.
To Ho-young, the greatest footballer of all time had always been Pelé.
After that, in no particular order, came Maradona, Messi, Ronaldo, Cruyff, Di Stefano, Beckenbauer, Zidane, and Ronaldo Nazário.
That was about the list. But if you removed era-based adjustments and judged purely by skill and talent, he thought Messi and Ronaldo were the absolute peak.
After all, the gap between old-school football and modern football was undeniable.
If Pelé had been the greatest swordsman of his era, then Messi and Ronaldo were the best gunslingers of today.
Still, the reason Pelé and Maradona were hailed as the greatest was not just due to their records or skill, but because they had achieved what no one else had at such a young age.
'Then someday…'
Would he too be evaluated the same way?
It was no longer just empty daydreaming.
It wasn't a delusion anymore.
Now, he truly was the first ever.
The important thing was, no one in the world knew it yet.
'Then I just need to show them.'
He had come alive again.
Just like when he left for Brazil, when he played in the World Cup, or when he first joined Real Madrid, that fearless and confident self had returned.
His worries began to clear like fog lifting.
'Yeah.'
Suddenly, Callejón's words came to mind.
That Ho-young worried too much, and it was becoming a problem.
Looking back, he was right.
He had been subconsciously worried about when he'd be called up to the first team.
As he got closer to reaching the top stage, those useless worries had started to weigh on him.
So now, Ho-young sought to return to his roots.
His passion and attachment to football.
That was what had brought him back, not some desperate desire to climb higher no matter what.
He also believed the path ahead was one he would carve for himself.
Foreigner? Non-European nationality?
It didn't matter.
If he played well, they would come begging for him anyway.
Excessive worry was harmful.
Thinking that, Ho-young finished his workout and ran out to the training ground.
He didn't know why.
He just wanted to kick the ball.
The neatly trimmed grass stretched out before him, and his chest burned with excitement.
Exhaling heavily, a puff of warm breath came out.
It was still cold, but it felt like it was about to get warmer.
As March passed and April arrived, a gentler breeze began to blow.
The Segunda División standings were gradually taking shape. Numancia and Málaga were leading the pack, battling it out, while Sporting Gijón, Castellón, and Celta Vigo were fiercely fighting for promotion spots.
Just below them, Castilla and Barcelona B were sitting side by side in 6th and 7th place.
Recently, Castilla had broken free from a losing slump and was riding a four-game winning streak, showing a late surge uncharacteristic of a reserve team.
At the center of it all was Ho-young, whose stock was rapidly rising.
Since becoming an unprecedented football prodigy, he had continued to grow.
He exuded confidence every match, and it translated into a more mature performance on the pitch.
It had only been a month since he acquired that talent, yet his growth had accelerated rapidly.
[Ho-young]
[Possessed Talents]
Football Prodigy (W)
Impeccable Playmaking (W)
Storm Dribbling (SU)
Maestro's Build-up (SU)
Unshakable Solidity of a Rock (U)
Versatile Midfield Commander (U)
Artistic Ball Control (SS+)
Legs Faster than a Lamborghini (A+3)
Genius Dribbling (A+3)
Tactical Understanding (A+3)
Creative Individual Skills (A+3)
Fantastic Positioning (A+3)
Clever Space Penetration (A+3)
Excellent Spatial Awareness (A+3)
Sharp Anticipation (A+3)
Razor-Sharp Decision Making (A+3)
Solid Fundamentals (A+3)
Intelligent Off-the-Ball Movement (A+2)
Precise First Touch (A+2)
Precise and Quick Kicks (A+2)
Solid Finishing (A+2)
High Football IQ (A+2)
Quick Directional Change (A+)
Sculpted Looks (A+)
Burning Fighting Spirit (A+)
Iron Body (A+)
Exceptional Flexibility (A+)
Superior Jumping Power (A-)
Powerful Long Shot That Penetrates Gaps (A-)
High Work Rate (A-)
Excellent Passing (A-)
(More...)
Precise and Clean Free Kick (B+3)
Superior Agility (B+3)
Strong Stamina (B+3)
Balanced Body Coordination (B+3)
Natural Muscles (B+3)
Exceptional Composure (B+2)
Excellent Heading (B+2)
Natural Language Sense (B+)
Open Growth Plates (B+)
Over the past year, a lot had changed.
He had pursued Zidane's talents and those of several Segunda División players.
He had grown his B-rank talents and transferred them into his core ones.
As a result, he had increased his B-rank talents by more than 20 stages.
Even the A-rank talents had grown by over 20 stages.
Most of the current (A+3) talents had originated from B-level skills or ones derived from Zidane.
That was about the current situation.
Normally, going from A+ to A+2 would take six months. Advancing to A+3 should take even longer.
But in early April, it felt like his growth rate was suddenly accelerating.
It felt like [Football Prodigy (W)] was starting to influence all of his talents.
His body itched.
It felt like something was going to happen soon, and he couldn't stand to be away from the ball for even a moment.
It was explosive growth.
He wanted to release the force that was welling up inside him.
'The next match.'
Round 33 of the league.
If there was ever a moment to explode, it was that match.
The opponent was Celta Vigo, currently sitting 5th in the table.
'There's someone I need to meet there.'
Ho-young began preparing for the match.
Sunday, April 13.
Castilla's squad departed for an away match against Celta Vigo, a club from Galicia in northwestern Spain that had produced players like David Silva and Makelele.
"Man, I'm so sick of this."
"Enjoy it while you can. When we get promoted, we'll be flying all the time. You'll miss these moments."
"I don't care how boring it is, I just want to get there already~."
It was a conversation between Miguel and Callejón in the back of the bus.
Sitting quietly by the window next to them, Ho-young nodded in agreement.
As always, long-distance away trips were exhausting.
A journey that would take just one hour by plane took five hours by bus.
In Segunda División, land travel was the norm, and flights were only used when visiting island teams.
The reason was obvious: to reduce operating costs.
But all of this would become a distant memory once they made it to the first team.
Not that first-team players flew everywhere either, but the welfare and privileges were on another level.
Ho-young turned to Callejón and said,
"Let's enjoy today. If we do, we'll be flying soon."
"Huh?"
Callejón blinked at the sudden comment.
Ho-young smiled.
"Isn't football fun?"
"Haha. Of course it's fun. Why else would I play?"
It was a random conversation.
But for them, it held meaning.
It reminded them, even if briefly, why they spent five hours on the road just to play football.
Especially for the young boy sitting on the other side of the bus, it helped ease some of his nerves.
As the team exchanged light banter, the bus arrived at their lodging.
The parking lot of Hotel Juan in Vigo.
There, about 50 Castilla supporters were waiting.
Mostly young men and women, they cheered enthusiastically as the players stepped off the bus one by one.
But when Ho-young appeared, their reaction was explosive, as if Raúl himself had stepped off.
It made sense. Not only was Ho-young the team's ace, but he was currently 3rd in the league scoring chart, performing brilliantly.
Naturally, he had earned the fans' affection.
Though, in truth, more than half of them were there because of his looks.
One male fan shouted out,
"Woo! Hat trick today!!"
Ho-young had never scored a hat trick in the Segunda División.
As a midfielder, he hadn't focused solely on scoring but had consistently delivered assists as well.
In his 28 starts, he had recorded 18 goals and 15 assists.
He was leading the assist chart by far.
'If I get a hat trick today, I'll move up to 2nd.'
His condition today was unusually good.
His body was finally starting to accept the unprecedented talent within him.
So, a hat trick?
It wasn't out of the question.
At 6 p.m., the Castilla squad moved to Balaídos Stadium for the match.
Both teams were warming up, and from time to time, players who recognized Ho-young approached to chat.
At 16 years old and having brought his team to 6th place, Ho-young was already a rising star.
Then,
"Hey, Woo."
A burly man approached, flashing a toothy grin.
The moment Ho-young turned his head, he recognized him immediately.
He didn't even need to see the talent window.
"Diego Costa."
"Oh, you know my name?"
"I heard you're from São Paulo too."
"Ahaha, am I that famous already? What an honor to be recognized by the crown prince of Castilla."
His tone wasn't mocking.
He simply seemed amused as he stroked his thick stubble and continued.
"You're 3rd in scoring, right?"
That one line created tension.
Diego Costa was currently 4th with 16 goals.
Looking down at Ho-young, Costa said,
"If I score a hat trick today, I'll overtake you. Hehehe. Look forward to it, kid."
Then.
Pfffft.
"Hey, you psycho!"
"Kekeke."
Costa walked away, brushing off his backside.
He had clearly come over not out of friendliness, but to drop a bomb in more ways than one.
'Yeah, that's exactly the kind of guy he is.'
Diego Costa.
A 19-year-old who had been loaned to Celta Vigo from Atlético Madrid last summer. Today was their first meeting.
He had missed the home game in September due to a minor injury, but finally, they would face off today.
There was just one thing to keep in mind.
His nickname was "madman."
An absolute lunatic.
Two hours before kickoff, the managers of both teams gave their press conferences in the stadium's media room.
Celta Vigo's manager, Juan Ramon, looked composed, but his twitching fingers revealed his excitement.
Understandably so. Castilla was a special team for Juan Ramon.
From 2001 to 2005, he had managed Castilla, and in the 2005–06 season, he briefly led Real Madrid.
Although he had been dismissed, he was now having a breakout season, leading Celta Vigo to 5th place.
That was what made this match special.
A young reporter asked,
"I heard Balaídos Stadium is sold out today. Are you confident you can meet the expectations of the home fans?"
"Haha."
Juan Ramon nodded confidently.
"If meeting expectations means winning, then yes, I'm confident. Our attacking power is among the best in the league, alongside Sporting Gijón."
Back in September, Celta Vigo had thrashed Castilla 5-0 while Ho-young was absent.
So Juan Ramon had every reason to be confident.
"But today, Ho-young is likely to start. Aren't you worried?"
"Worried? I know how good that boy is. He's the best youth talent I've ever seen. But..."
Juan Ramon folded his arms smugly.
"We're not going to get caught up in his playmaking. Let him do what he wants. If he scores three, we'll score four. Castilla with Ho-young is certainly formidable, but we have our own game-changer too."
It was a press conference foreshadowing a battle of titans.
In contrast, Mandía's press conference was short and sharp.
"Juan Ramon seems very confident, especially with Diego Costa. What are your thoughts on that?"
"Costa is definitely an exciting prospect. Like a wild bull in a bullring, full of fire and attitude. He was the same last year, and I'm sure we'll see that again today. But just remember one thing. Castilla has a matador."
A matador.
In his mind, Mandía pictured Ho-young's face.
'The real madman is someone else.'
Tension filled the press room.
The match began as the 32,000-seat stadium filled to capacity.
[The weather is perfect for football, not too hot or cold. And looking at the starting lineups, this is going to be an exciting game. Both teams are deploying unusual formations, right?]
[That's right. There's a very aggressive tone to both setups. What's really interesting is Castilla's Miguel Torres playing as right fullback. They're clearly looking to exploit his speed.]
Just as the commentary noted, Manager Mandía had prepared thoroughly.
And that wasn't all.
As soon as the match began, Miguel Torres pushed forward far more aggressively than usual, actively joining the attack.
Another point of interest sat on the bench. Sixteen-year-old Marcos Alonso.
Four months ago, he made his pro debut with Real Madrid C, and thanks to his sharp overlaps and crossing ability, he had rapidly climbed the ranks.
But the biggest surprise was yet to come.
[Ah! Am I seeing this right? Ho-young, listed as an attacking midfielder, is hovering up front. The midfield is crowded, and right fullback Miguel Torres is covering the space instead!]
[Haha. Manager Mandía has cooked up something interesting. Up to now, Ho-young has led the game as a playmaker, but today, he's showing a completely different side.]
[Can Ho-young deliver in this new position?]
[Actually, Ho-young was originally more of a second striker. His classical playmaker style came after he joined Real Madrid.]
[So we might see explosive attacking play today?]
Exactly.
Today, Ho-young wasn't a playmaker.
He was the finisher.
The striker.
And as Ho-young began showing flashes of genius, Juan Ramon's face turned pale.
(To be continued.)