Benzema's jealousy and selfishness.
Ho-young didn't have complete certainty, but he had sensed it for a while.
Ever since joining the team, he'd constantly felt it.
Especially during training sessions when Scolari was away, Benzema would often linger nearby and throw snide remarks.
Ho-young had considered confronting him at least once, but never went through with it.
Each time, Marcelo, Ramos, or Pepe would be the first to curse Benzema out.
As the team's core figure, Ho-young couldn't act rashly.
If he publicly lashed out at the French camp, it would only empower the Spanish camp and deepen the divide.
With both Raúl and Guti already leaning to one side, someone needed to firmly hold the center and bring balance to the team.
That someone was Ho-young.
In truth, it wasn't that the French players disliked him.
It was just Benzema, whose position overlapped with his.
Lassana Diarra, Mamadou Sakho, and Yoann Gourcuff, on the other hand, liked and even respected Ho-young.
In this situation, Ho-young hoped to unite both camps.
That was why he had covered up for Benzema's mistake.
If Filipe Luís had broken through and scored, all the blame would have fallen on Benzema.
He could have let that happen if he wanted to.
But that wasn't how Ho-young operated.
The pitch wasn't a political battlefield. Football wasn't about power plays.
He ran to kick the ball. He kicked the ball to beat the opponent.
And for himself.
And for the fans who cheered for him.
At least, that's how Ho-young saw it.
That's what he had learned from Kaká and Zinedine Zidane.
So now—
Tap!
[Ho-young! He's running full throttle!]
That was why he ran with everything he had.
Ho-young's eyes locked onto the space ahead.
Four defenders.
Centre-backs Alberto Lopo and Zé Castro were handling the last line and marking Benzema, while Juan Rodríguez and Juca had formed the first line of resistance.
The full-backs were too busy tracking Ronaldo and Robben on the wings to be of much help.
Which meant Ho-young had one option.
Straight through the middle.
He sprinted directly into the heart of the defense.
Filipe Luís, desperate to recover, tried chasing at full speed, but the gap only widened.
No matter how good a sprinter you were, the explosive energy from Ho-young's solid thighs was on another level.
"Damn it."
Luís turned pale and gave up chasing shortly after.
Marking a fully accelerated Ho-young was practically impossible.
Unreal.
He shook his head in disbelief.
He knew Ho-young was fast, but not this fast.
Now, all they could rely on was the goalkeeper.
Things unfolded quickly.
Xabi Alonso picked out a deep forward pass.
It sliced cleanly between Alberto Lopo and Zé Castro.
[The ball is threading into the penalty area! It looks a little long though!]
[Ho-young sprints at full speed to reach it!]
The pass did seem a bit heavy.
But that was precisely what Alonso had intended.
He believed Ho-young could beat the defenders to it.
And sure enough—
Tap!
[Alonso's pass lands perfectly at Ho-young's feet!]
As expected of a master of ground-splitting passes, Alonso had created a perfect situation with just one touch.
And on top of that—
[A brilliant first touch from Ho-young!]
As if he had reeled it in by hand, Ho-young controlled the ball instantly at his feet.
Only the goalkeeper remained.
[One-on-one chance with the keeper! Daniel Aranzubia charges forward!]
Huff.
At the mouth of the goal, Ho-young took a deep breath to focus.
Daniel Aranzubia, face twisted with urgency, charged out.
But Ho-young remained composed.
He looked like he would score without fail, unless some divine intervention stopped him.
What's more, he had a teammate completely unmarked next to him.
It was a perfect scoring opportunity.
For a split second, Ho-young glanced to the side.
There was Benzema, signaling for the ball.
Their eyes met briefly midair.
A pass would increase the scoring chance significantly.
However—
Tap.
The ball had already left Ho-young's foot.
This was ball control at its finest. He didn't need to look to strike it cleanly.
With a gentle chip, the ball traced a high arc over the keeper.
In that moment, both Aranzubia and Benzema's faces twisted.
Then the net rippled lightly.
[Goooooooooooal! Ho-young scores his first goal of the season!]
[Everyone expected a pass, but instead, he finishes with a lob! Incredible. A fearless move only possible for someone with nerves of steel. You could say he completely outplayed the goalkeeper psychologically.]
The crowd went wild.
Thunderous chants of "WHY" erupted from the stands, and drums boomed from the supporters' section.
Ho-young ran straight to Xabi Alonso to celebrate.
The two shared a brief hug.
Normally quiet and reserved, Alonso flashed a smile and gave a thumbs-up.
For him, this moment was deeply meaningful.
He really didn't let me down.
Though they had only recently started playing together, Alonso already trusted Ho-young.
Even after pairing with the likes of Gerrard and Torres at Liverpool, this was a different feeling.
He even began to think he might achieve everything at Real Madrid.
When the first half ended at 2-0, the players returned to the locker room in high spirits.
But there was one person sitting alone in the corner, unable to join in.
Damn it.
It was Karim Benzema, who had ruined everything.
He had wasted a perfect chance for an assist, and Ho-young had salvaged his mistake with a goal.
By now, the headlines were probably writing themselves.
"Ho-young Cleans Up Benzema's Mess."
The worst possible debut.
He didn't even want to return to the pitch for the second half.
He had bragged to his parents in France that he would score in his debut.
Now look at him.
The cold stares from his teammates were expected.
How pathetic. Getting shown up by a sixteen-year-old.
That was entirely his own fault.
Had Ho-young not scored a wonder goal, he would have been ripped apart by fans already.
And now he understood.
Why Scolari had said what he did before the substitution.
How does he even play like that?
That question circled in his mind.
On the pitch, Ho-young felt like more than just one man. Like two or even three playing as one.
Not only did he maximize the team's strengths, but he also covered for their weaknesses, commanding half the pitch on his own.
Only after playing alongside him did Benzema truly understand how valuable Ho-young was.
"Huff..."
All Benzema could do was hang his head and sigh.
And just then—
"Lift your head."
Startled, Benzema looked up to see Ho-young standing right in front of him.
He spoke.
"You're a striker for Los Blancos. Hold your head high."
"Oh, look at the great Madridista giving a speech."
"It's something Zizou once told me. If you truly want to be part of this team, start with your attitude. So quit sulking and look around. Look at your teammates."
"..."
Benzema couldn't say anything.
It felt like he had been hit over the head with a hammer.
His mind went blank.
As Ho-young walked off to change, Benzema muttered quietly.
"What a show-off..."
Still, as he glanced around the room, he renewed his resolve.
The second half resumed, and the match continued in a similar fashion.
Real Madrid maintained dominance from the moment they touched the ball, controlling the midfield and patiently building chances.
Even though Adrián López applied heavy pressure, Mahamadou Diarra and Xabi Alonso calmly rotated possession to retain control.
[Deportivo are in a tough spot right now.]
[Indeed. With Madrid playing like this, Deportivo have no choice but to overload the midfield.]
As expected, Deportivo strengthened their midfield through substitutions.
Scolari responded by subbing out Robben and bringing on Fernando Gago.
As Gago returned from injury, the fans rose to give him a standing ovation.
[At the same time, Ronaldo moves up to form a two-top with Benzema. Real Madrid shifts into a 4-3-1-2 formation.]
[It's a setup favored by Mourinho at Inter. The attacking midfielder, Ho-young, becomes the tactical lynchpin in this shape.]
And from that moment on, the tide began to turn again.
Ho-young's versatility shone even brighter.
[Ho-young drops into midfield, helping establish numerical superiority in the center.]
[What a work rate. It's like he never gets tired. Where did last season's supposedly stamina-challenged Ho-young go?]
[Maybe he moonlights as a marathon runner.]
As the commentary noted, Ho-young showcased an incredible range of play thanks to his stamina.
When the midfield got crowded, he dropped deeper to support ball circulation. When things opened up, he pushed forward to press high.
These weren't flashy plays that showed up in the stats, but to his teammates on the pitch, they made all the difference.
And the most astonishing part came when he transitioned to attack.
Tap!
"...!"
"Juca! Stay alert!"
"Switch to a flat back line!"
Every time Ho-young touched the ball, Deportivo's defenders immediately tensed.
His attacking pattern in the second half was completely different from the first.
[Ho-young dribbles simply. Juca steps up to confront him.]
[Ronaldo and Benzema are waiting for the perfect moment to break the offside trap. A direct drive looks most likely here.]
Juca, given special instructions at halftime, approached.
I can't stop him completely. I just need to disrupt him.
His job was to block Ho-young's dribble and protect the space behind.
Any resulting shooting angles would be covered by the five defenders behind him.
All he had to do was prevent Ho-young's breakthrough.
Even if I have to foul him, I must stop him here.
That was his mindset.
But almost as if he had read Juca's thoughts, Ho-young didn't attempt to dribble.
He didn't even move.
Like a giant tree rooted in place, he stood still in the middle of the second line.
For just two seconds.
Then—
Tap!
"...Huh?!"
[A lofted pass to the left flank!]
[Cristiano Ronaldo gets on the end of it!]
Ronaldo and Benzema, who had been loitering on the offside line, split wide at the perfect moment.
The defenders followed them out, leaving space at the center of the box.
Ho-young surged into that space.
All that remained was Ronaldo's pass.
Tap.
As expected, he delivered it to the far side.
Benzema was there.
[Benzema receives Ronaldo's pass! He should be looking for Ho-young at the center of the box!]
Benzema panicked.
Before he knew it, he was moving in sync with Ho-young's play.
He didn't even know how it happened.
He had simply followed the flow of the match and suddenly found himself with a decisive chance.
Now, he understood completely what Scolari meant.
Ho-young's playmaking was the key. Following him guaranteed rewards.
Tap!
[Benzema with the pass! Ho-young receives it!]
[And a shot!]
Without hesitation, Ho-young curled it with his right foot.
It flew into the bottom-right corner of the net.
Swish!
[Goooooooooooal! Ho-young completes his brace!!]
Uwooooooooooooooooh!
The stadium erupted with a roar loud enough to shake the ground.
But instead of celebrating, Ho-young sprinted toward the VIP section on the opposite side of the pitch.
He lifted his jersey up to his chest.
Underneath was a shirt with cursive lettering.
Our Maestro Zizou, Thank You.
A goal celebration in advance of Zidane's retirement ceremony.
Sitting in the stands with his family, Zidane covered his face with both hands.
The match ended without further changes.
3-0.
Despite a turbulent preseason, the season opener was simply perfect.
Zidane's official retirement ceremony began immediately afterward.
(To be continued.)