At kickoff, Ho-young burst forward.
Caught off guard by the sudden charge, Adriano hurriedly passed the ball backward to escape the pressure.
However.
"Huah."
Ho-young exhaled sharply and kept running.
Pouring out relentless energy, he applied high-quality, intense pressing.
Raúl joined him, tearing through Inter's half.
[The mood has completely shifted after the first half.]
[The players are on fire from the first whistle of the second half.]
[Is this the miracle of halftime? You can't help but wonder what kind of conversation took place in the locker room.]
At halftime, the team's youngest, Ho-young, stood in the center and said:
"We need to shift the momentum."
When the others asked how, Ho-young insisted on applying aggressive pressing all over the pitch.
It was the right call.
But there was a problem.
None of them had the stamina to keep that up until the final whistle.
Without the endurance to maintain that tempo, it was a strategy not worth trying.
So most players had dismissed it as impossible from the start.
They simply couldn't sustain that kind of pressure.
But then Ho-young said something that changed everything.
—It's not over till it's over. I'll lead from the front. Even if it kills me.
Some might've thought he was just being cocky.
After all, there wasn't a single player in the squad with less experience than him.
But no one thought that way.
There was sincerity in his words.
Raúl, moved by that, gathered the players and said:
—We must endure. If each of us suffers just a little more, we can get through this.
That was the turning point. It completely changed the players' attitudes.
Even those worn out from a long season regained their energy and spirit.
That was what led to the current situation.
[Incredible. It's not easy to start the second half like this. Even though it's just the first leg, Real Madrid are going all in.]
[It's great to see such spirit. But you have to wonder if their stamina will hold.]
It was a valid concern.
But up front stood a monster named Ho-young.
Like the lead bird in a V-formation, he led the team from the front.
Since acquiring Nedvěd's talent, Ho-young's stamina had become unrecognizably strong.
He now had complete confidence in his endurance.
And with his relentless effort amplifying the effect, it finally bore fruit.
Around the 65th minute of the second half.
Tap!
Inter, who had been maintaining possession with short passes, began to panic under the intense pressure and resorted to long balls.
[A high ball toward the halfway line. Diarra wins it and quickly lays it off to Zidane.]
That was when Real Madrid's counterattack began.
Smack!
[Zidane delivers a ground pass directly to Raúl! Raúl drops deep and looks forward!]
Switching play.
With Raúl dropping back, Ho-young was already leading the line.
He widened his vision.
With razor-sharp decision making, he analyzed the flow of the game.
The space behind the defense was sealed. No room to make a run in behind.
'Dribble it is.'
Using his anticipation, he found a perfect position invisible to others.
What he needed now was unwavering focus.
Smack!
[Ho-young receives Raúl's pass and charges forward!]
[Is he just going for it alone? His teammates haven't caught up yet.]
He kept running.
As if trapped in his own world, he pushed on.
There was not a shred of fear.
His only target was the goal.
[Ho-young is pushing forward rapidly. Vieira steps in to challenge.]
[And Cambiasso is moving into support.]
The moment Vieira sensed the danger, he closed in.
True to his EPL roots, he leaned in hard with his shoulder, initiating a physical duel.
He moved to deny Ho-young every inch of space.
It was a defensive tactic honed in Serie A.
'I'm ending you today.'
With that resolve, Vieira put all his strength into the tackle.
This much force should've been enough to bring Ho-young down.
He was sure of it.
A heavyweight pushing with everything he had—there was no way the kid could withstand it.
Even if it earned a warning or card, it was far better than conceding a chance.
But then.
"...Gah!"
The one who staggered wasn't Ho-young. It was Vieira.
[Ho-young leaned back at the perfect moment!]
[He slips past Vieira like a slippery eel! That was a stunning display of focus and timing!]
Vieira was swept aside in an instant.
He tried to regain his balance with animal-like instincts, but Ho-young had already left him behind.
Ho-young had spent the entire halftime break figuring out how to deal with Vieira.
He was younger and quicker than expected, so Ho-young chose not to face him directly, but to exploit his gaps.
The size difference couldn't be ignored.
And this was the answer he came up with.
Immediately, Cambiasso closed in.
But.
Whoosh!
"...Tch!"
Why go head-to-head when there's a better option?
Only a fool would keep letting himself get caught.
Ho-young stopped the ball mid-dribble and slightly changed direction, luring Cambiasso into overcommitting.
[Perfect timing! Cambiasso is beaten without even laying a finger on him!]
'Got him.'
After evading Cambiasso, Ho-young's lips curled slightly.
The tension in his expression started to ease.
But his eyes grew sharper.
He was heading toward the penalty area.
Only one man stood in his path now.
'Cordoba.'
Ivan Cordoba.
As soon as Ho-young got past Cambiasso, Cordoba closed the space.
That was his specialty.
Universally recognized as Colombia's best centre-back, he possessed elite speed and positioning.
His tackling and man-marking weren't as refined as Mascherano's, but he excelled at cutting off attacks calmly and cleanly.
That was exactly what Ho-young wanted.
A head-on clash.
[Ho-young doesn't avoid it. He faces Cordoba directly!]
[Cordoba steps in suddenly with a tackle!]
But.
"...!!"
Ho-young had the edge in both agility and anticipation.
"Damn!"
Humiliated.
Ho-young shifted direction and dragged the ball back behind him.
Cordoba's balance tilted forward, and Ho-young surged ahead.
The next move came in less than half a second.
Smack!
[Ho-young breaks through!]
[Only Julio Cesar stands in front of the goal now!]
Entering the penalty area, Ho-young didn't stop.
The pace was fast, and Ho-young was even faster and fiercer.
Walter Samuel rushed in with all his speed to intercept, but the ball had already left Ho-young's foot.
A thunderous shot that carried everything he had been holding back until now.
[Ho-young shoooooooots!]
[My goodness! Julio Cesar makes a save!]
A phenomenal reaction save from Cesar.
He nearly became the hero, but the power behind the shot was beyond expectations. The ball slipped through his hands.
And then.
Thud!
The ball hit the net.
[GOOOOOOOOOOAL! It's a goal! Ho-young pulls one back with an incredible individual effort! That's his 7th Champions League goal!]
[Unbelievable... What did I just witness? He did that all by himself, didn't he? He went through three of Inter's best defenders in succession...]
The commentators were at a loss for words.
Had there ever been a player with this much impact in football history?
Ho-young was becoming a footballer like no other.
[This could be devastating for Inter. If they end the first leg with a 2-1 scoreline, the second leg could be extremely tough.]
[That's right. This season, Real Madrid have been more dominant at the Santiago Bernabéu than ever before.]
But more serious than conceding the goal was what happened next.
"Ah!"
Cesar groaned and ripped off his goalkeeper gloves.
His fingers were red and swollen.
It looked like an injury.
Goalkeepers train to prevent injuries, but they can't protect their hands from everything.
This was one of those moments.
Cesar stared at Ho-young's back with eyes full of fear.
'How can someone kick that hard...?'
A normal player's shot clocks in at around 70 km/h. This was on another level.
It felt stronger than Roberto Carlos' record 150 km/h rocket.
Cesar eventually had to ask for a substitution.
[Just how powerful was that shot to injure Cesar?]
[It looks like the impact hit his fingertips, amplifying the damage. Could be a strain on the pinky. There's a high chance he won't be available for the second leg.]
[We'll need to check the shot speed after the match. There's a chance we just witnessed a new record. This is astonishing.]
It made sense. Ho-young's legs were like a nuclear warhead.
The thigh power of taekwondo gold medalist Kim Sung-min.
The left foot of the devil, Roberto Carlos.
The cannon shot ability of Diego Forlán.
The thunder thighs of Cha Bum-kun.
All of that had come together in that one strike.
What followed was a full-on war.
Inter scrambled to regain the lead, while Real Madrid desperately held the line.
But it was Raúl González who netted the equalizer.
A goal created by Ho-young's assist.
And then.
Whistle—
2-2.
Thankfully for Real Madrid, the match ended in a draw.
Patrick Vieira was fuming.
'That brat with barely any experience!'
He couldn't put into words how infuriating it felt to be humiliated by such a young attacker.
It was worse than when he'd faced Kaká.
With Kaká, there were just a few things to watch out for. With Ho-young, everything had to be considered.
Individual skills, shooting, passing, explosive dribbling.
You had to account for every possibility just to have a chance of stopping him.
Even Ronaldo, back in the 1998 World Cup, hadn't been this terrifying.
So what was this East Asian kid?
Goosebumps broke out across Vieira's skin.
It was pure fear.
'This is insane...'
Even minutes later, Vieira was still shaken.
It felt like he had just faced a Frankenstein of all the greatest superstars.
Ho-young glanced at him briefly and clenched his fist.
'If I play the second leg, I'll be able to upgrade my Black Panther Muscles.'
Plus, he might even get a shot at Cambiasso or Adriano's talents.
And after the match, the official announcement came.
Man of the Match: Ho-young.
The youngest MOTM in a Champions League semifinal. The youngest semifinalist. The youngest scorer in a semifinal.
Ho-young was smashing youth records again.
Meanwhile, the other semifinal had taken place the previous day.
Barcelona hosted Manchester United with their best squad and came out on top in a brutal 4-2 battle.
Now, the Champions League final was beginning to take shape.
And just four days away was El Clásico.
Time to decide the La Liga champion.
(To be continued.)