44 minutes into the first half.
"Wow, wow, wow, wow!"
A play that Hoyoung orchestrated from start to finish.
And the unbelievable ending.
The stadium was on the verge of rioting at the sheer spectacle of it.
Some spectators were so excited that they even threw the chicken they had been eating. Others, caught up in the frenzy, tried to rush out of the stands and onto the field.
Although security was prepared, chaos still broke out in unexpected places.
"Señorita!"
"Señorita U!"
Some fans were so ecstatic that they stripped off their pants and wiggled their butts, while others were in tears, frantically talking on their phones.
It was only the 45th minute of the first half, yet Real Madrid fans were already celebrating as if victory was assured.
With one voice, they roared:
"¡Vamos!"
"WHY!"
"¡Vamos!"
"WHY!"
"¡Vamos!"
"WHY!"
"Woooooooooooooo!"
Standing in front of the stands, Ho-young celebrated his goal with Lee Gwa-in, Alonso, and Ronaldo.
"Yes!"
"That was a great shot. Very good."
"Nice shot. That was brilliant."
"Thank you all. Thank you."
Even though it was a goal he had scored on his own, the space had opened up thanks to the movements of his teammates.
Hoyoung, who had orchestrated the play himself, knew this better than anyone.
"That crazy guy actually put that in. Do you have a radar on your foot or something? That was insane. You're crazy. Just keep being crazy for another 45 minutes, alright?"
"Let's all go crazy together."
Hoyoung and Ramos put their heads together, fired up with determination.
And with that, the first half came to an end.
"Oh my god."
Halftime.
Mourinho strode quickly into the manager's office and ran his hands through his hair before flipping open his notebook.
It contained the first-half report compiled by the technical team over the last 45 minutes.
'This is ridiculous.'
He couldn't believe it.
No—he didn't want to believe it.
He wanted to deny the fact that the first half had been entirely about Woo Ho-young.
Despite all their preparation, Inter had only shown promise in the first 20 minutes.
Even after a tactical discussion with his coaching staff, there was no clear solution.
"But more than anything else, the biggest problem is the players' morale."
"What's the atmosphere like in the locker room?"
"Zanetti is trying to rally the players, but mentally, they all look exhausted."
"Alright, I'll go check on them."
The locker room was in utter disarray.
Captain Zanetti was shouting, pointing out mistakes from the first half, while the rest of the players sat in silence.
They needed time.
'I should wait a bit before going in.'
Mourinho, who highly valued the role of a captain, chose to remain outside the door, giving Zanetti space to address the team.
Two minutes later, Mourinho finally stepped inside.
"I'm not here to criticize you. I know you've trained hard. The problem isn't your effort—it's the ridiculous circumstances that have kept you from showing what you're capable of. So lift your heads and listen."
"Yes."
"Good. Don't think we're going to lose. If we stick to our game plan, we can score three goals in 45 minutes. Don't rush—just play our football. If you truly belong at Inter, then prove it."
Mourinho's sharp gaze swept over the team, unwavering.
"We're going all the way. Crepi il lupo."
"Crepi il lupo!"
After wrapping up his tactical talk, Mourinho pulled one player aside.
"Marco."
"Yes."
It was central defender Marco Materazzi—known for his ruthless tackles.
"Be ready. I'll put you in when the time comes."
"Leave it to me."
If they couldn't stop Woo Ho-young through normal means, they would have to find another way.
This was Mourinho's last hidden card.
---
Beep!
[Woo Ho-young's eighth Champions League goal puts Real Madrid ahead 2-0. The second half begins.]
[Yes. This is incredible. With that goal, Woo Ho-young is now tied with Bayern Munich's Ivica Olić and Barcelona's Lionel Messi for first place in the Champions League goal tally. If he keeps this up, he could win the Golden Shoe for the second consecutive season.]
In the Champions League, if players have the same number of goals, the award is shared regardless of playing time.
In other words, Ho-young's Golden Boot was secured unless Diego Milito, who was fourth in the rankings, scored a hat trick.
If everything went according to plan, Ho-young could continue the record set by Van Nistelrooy, who had won the scoring title two years in a row seven years ago.
Then, at the 60-minute mark of the second half—
[Diego Milito charges forward, passing to Sneijder! Inter is pressing high and going all-out on the attack!]
[That shows just how desperate they are.]
Cambiasso and Zanetti built up the play, exchanging passes.
With Real Madrid easing off the pressure slightly, Sneijder tried to dictate the game against Ho-young.
But unlike the composed Ho-young, Sneijder was anything but relaxed.
Anxiety crept in, disrupting his ability to play at his best.
'Damn it. Time is running out.'
[Sneijder is looking for an opening, but... there's nowhere to pass!]
[Inter's players are overlapping their runs! They're getting desperate, but they can't afford to panic.]
[That's right. But when the Champions League title is on the line, the mental pressure is enormous.]
Before the match, experts had all agreed:
This final is a battle between Woo Ho-young and Sneijder as much as it is between Scolari and Mourinho. The match will be decided by the playmaking of these two players. If either of them underperforms, their team will lose.
And that prediction was proving true.
Unlike Woo Ho-young, Sneijder was struggling, and because of that, Inter was losing.
Inter's tactical approach wasn't working, and Real Madrid wasn't about to let them settle into their rhythm.
There was no time left to hesitate.
'I have no choice. I have to take the risk.'
Sneijder played the ball forward without even attempting a key pass.
[The ball is sent wide—Samuel Eto'o receives it and drives toward the center!]
[At the same time, Goran Pandev cuts in from the left!]
[The number of attackers in the box increases instantly!]
Real Madrid's defensive line had already formed, but Inter's attack was sharp.
However, it wasn't enough to break through.
[Samuel Eto'o is blocked by Arbeloa!]
[The ball spills into the center of the box!]
Just when it seemed like another attack had failed—
Thud.
Diego Milito.
Argentina's most clinical finisher.
The man who never missed a scoring opportunity.
He struck the ball perfectly—
But Casillas' reaction speed was otherworldly.
Phew!
"Fuck!"
[The ball deflects off Casillas' foot and goes out. Inter wins a corner kick! That was a phenomenal save!]
Inter had finally managed a threatening attack.
And now, Sneijder was preparing for a corner.
This was a chance they couldn't waste.
Although Milito wasn't known for his heading ability, his exceptional positioning allowed him to score brilliant goals with his head.
'You can do this.'
Yeah, it was worth a try.
The signal had already been exchanged.
The plan was to send a looping cross from the outside, curving inward to deceive both the defenders and Casillas.
This was the moment.
Boohoo!
[A corner kick arcs high toward the center of the goal!]
[Diego Milito is on the move!]
Milito's biggest weapon was his sharp attacking positioning and instinctive goal-scoring ability—something that made defenders tremble.
This season alone, 15 percent of his goals had come from headers.
'It's coming.'
His eyes narrowed, tracking the ball.
Then, with all his might, he leaped into the air.
And indeed, he managed to position himself better than Pepe.
The only problem was—Sneijder's cross didn't reach that far.
Thud!
[Woo Ho-young gets to it first with a powerful header!]
[The ball is cleared far upfield. Xabi Alonso collects it immediately.]
[Xabi Alonso controls it safely and passes it forward.]
Perfect defense.
Hoyoung had read the play, timed his jump perfectly, and cleared the ball before it could reach Milito.
Inter's attack was neutralized in an instant, the opportunity completely wasted.
[Wow! It was as if he predicted the exact trajectory of the ball and got into a better position than Diego Milito!]
[Flawless defensive awareness. Without Woo Ho-young, that could have been a real threat.]
It was a display of elite decision-making, anticipation, and defensive positioning.
On top of that, Hoyoung felt particularly sharp today.
It was thanks to a special talent he had acquired during the La Liga season finale—Guti's 'Condition of the Day (U).'
There was no downside to this ability.
On certain days, without any particular reason, his overall condition would improve dramatically.
No fluctuations, no drawbacks.
It simply added a boost to his already existing skill set.
And today, that very talent was crushing Inter.
"Ha..."
Sneijder, who had just wasted a golden opportunity, hung his head in frustration.
But he couldn't afford to dwell on it—the match wasn't over yet.
Still, his heart felt like it had already sunk.
'What the hell is going on?'
Woo Ho-young, his former teammate just a year ago, had returned as an opponent—no, as a monster beyond imagination.
He wasn't just dominating in attack. He was everywhere, dictating the game defensively too.
It wasn't even a matter of stamina.
If anything, Hoyoung's work rate had been otherworldly.
It felt unreal.
Like an opponent from another dimension.
There seemed to be no way out.
And then—
[SUBSTITUTION: OUT 25. Walter Samuel]
[SUBSTITUTION: IN 23. Marco Materazzi]
A strange tension rippled through the stadium as Inter made their move.