At 2 p.m. that afternoon, the day David Silva decided to join Manchester City, at the Etihad Stadium.
An hour later, Premier League Round 23 was set to begin.
Even so, the home dressing room looked quite relaxed.
The players headed out to the pitch at intervals to warm up.
And as kickoff drew near, they each prepared for the match in their own way.
As usual, Ho-young sat in his chair and strengthened his winning mentality.
In truth, it was the kind of easy match where he could have skipped that process, but it was precisely at times like this that he had to keep himself firmly focused so he would not let his guard down.
Of course, Ho-young was not the type to look down on or dismiss the opposition, but the human mind was tricky, and there was no telling when complacency might creep in.
'Letting my guard down is the last thing I need.'
Now was the time to focus on every single match.
Beating Manchester United and rising to first place might be difficult, but there was a very real chance of overtaking Chelsea and moving up to second.
If they could maintain a win rate of 80 to 90 percent until the end of the league season.
'I can do it.'
Ho-young emptied his mind completely, then filled it with nothing but winning mentality.
From that perspective, Manchester City's dressing room was definitely excellent.
In fact, objectively speaking, it felt better than Real Madrid's dressing room.
In particular, the dark navy chair with the eagle emblem on it made his body feel very comfortable.
But his mind was not as comfortable as his body.
Because of a few players who were making the atmosphere inside rather unsettled.
At this time, it was usually normal to sit in one's place and prepare mentally, but some players were gathered in small groups, chatting away.
Since the opposition looked beatable, they clearly were not feeling much tension.
Among them, there was one player in particular who stood out for being noisy.
"Oh, Blue Moon."
Pretending to play the guitar while singing by himself, the man was none other than Emmanuel Adebayor, standing at 193 cm tall.
He was famous for being full of energy even normally, and dancing the traditional dances of his home country, Togo in Africa, was both his hobby and one of his trademarks.
Because of that, he often served as the team's mood-maker.
Though at times, he was also a troublemaker who caused problems.
'It's been a while since he last started, so I guess he's in an especially good mood because of that.'
But then it happened.
Adebayor wiggled his waist as he came over this way, then suddenly flashed a sly smile.
'What is it?'
With a tall, lanky black man doing that right in front of him, it was a little unsettling.
Especially when the man was a 26-year-old, nine years older than him.
Fortunately, what Adebayor said was not what he had expected.
"It feels like a dream."
"A dream?"
"I finally get to play with you."
Adebayor meant it sincerely.
Having been a Real Madrid fan since he was young, he had naturally become a fan of Ho-young as well.
And he had always hoped that one day they would play on the same pitch, and now he had finally made it happen.
"And on the same team, no less. So after the match, let's swap shirts."
"What? Why didn't you say that at training?"
"I want your shirt when it's soaked in sweat. That's an honor only an opposing player can have. Of course, one day you and I might meet as enemies. Wahaha."
"Sure, sounds good. And I feel the same way. I really wanted to play with you at least once."
Ho-young replied with a smile of his own.
It was true.
He had definitely wanted to meet him at least once someday.
There were plenty of reasons.
The first was that Adebayor was one of the strikers who represented African football in the 21st century.
And the second was his personality.
'He really is a unique player.'
Known by all sorts of nicknames, such as Goddebayor, Dea-th Lion, Handybayor, lunatic, madman, and mentality king, he was a very unusual player.
That did not mean he lacked ability.
He had world-class quality, using his springy physicality to tear opponents apart.
But he was terribly inconsistent.
'It's completely different from Guti's on days like that.'
Even on days when Guti was not in top condition, he still gave you at least an above-average performance, but Adebayor could turn into a completely useless lamp post.
That was the biggest problem.
And one more thing.
"I'm hungry. For some reason, I'm craving muffins today. Want to stop by a bakery with me after the match? The female employee at the bakery next to my house is really pretty."
"..."
His impossible-to-read mentality was also a problem, if one could call it that.
Ho-young had known that was the kind of player he was, but seeing it in person was even more extreme.
'He's really just saying whatever comes into his head.'
Still, thankfully, he looked to be in excellent condition.
Whatever a footballer was like off the pitch, as long as he played well on it, that was what mattered.
Ho-young held out his hand to Adebayor.
"Please take care of me."
"Yeah, let's do well."
As that happened, match time was drawing close.
Soon, when Ho-young arrived at the tunnel, he steadied his breathing.
This place was very different from the tunnel at the Santiago Bernabéu.
It was not closed off from the away side, but open, and what stood out most was that no matter where he looked, Manchester City's emblem was stamped everywhere.
And at that moment, Manchester City's official anthem rang out from outside, and a solemn atmosphere settled over the tunnel.
It was the most nerve-racking moment.
When he stepped out of the tunnel holding the hand of an escort kid, dazzling sunlight poured over his face.
Sunlight that melted away the cold.
Not only was there no rain, there was not even a single cloud in the sky, perfect weather for playing.
He could not be certain of victory, but this much he could be sure of.
'My condition is good.'
Yes, today was one of those days.
Both teams entered the pitch at 3 p.m.
Then, as the players' faces appeared one by one on the big screen, the voices of the crowd cheering them on rang out.
And then, in an instant, a roar erupted loud enough to lift the stadium away.
It was the moment Ho-young's face appeared.
"Wohooo!"
"Here's to you Woo Ho-young!"
(Ho-young, this one's for you!)
"City loves you!"
(City loves you!)
"More than you will ever know!"
(More than you could ever know!)
It was the second chant made for Ho-young in just fifteen days since he arrived in Manchester.
Manchester City's fans were that obsessed with Ho-young.
"So today's finally the day."
"Who would've thought we'd get to see him here?"
"Hehe. It feels like a dream."
Etihad Stadium.
The match was wrapped in tremendous heat even before kickoff.
It almost felt like a Manchester derby was about to begin.
It was a festival in every sense.
And that was only natural, because this was a match of great significance.
After all, it was Ho-young's first home game.
Every single fan in the stands was filled with anticipation.
No one knew how long they had waited for this day.
For people who lived and died with Manchester City, there was hardly a more important day than today.
The stands were, of course, packed.
Tickets had long since sold out, and even the scalped tickets sold before kickoff had been going for around 250 to 370 euros.
At this level, it was almost on par with El Clásico.
Considering that the opponent was merely a lower-table side sitting 16th in the league, it was something that should never have happened.
But Manchester City's true fans had come to the stadium believing that price was more than worth paying to witness this glorious moment.
[The atmosphere is incredible. Honestly, this is the kind of sight you would never see in what should be a dull match. What I'm most looking forward to is seeing just how big an impact Ho-young can make against a weaker side.]
[That's right. Ho-young scored twice in the FA Cup against Leicester City on the 9th, but because he was taken off early, there was still a sense of disappointment. We could have seen even more fantastic play from him.]
[That's why I hope today's match can make up for that disappointment. Since he's had a proper rest, I think he'll be able to put in a great performance.]
[I agree. That's one of Ho-young's specialties, after all.]
In truth, Ho-young had not been producing the same astonishing displays this year as he had last year.
That could not be helped.
Last year's Real Madrid had been much stronger than the current Manchester City.
Perhaps because of that, many people were now expecting a truly explosive performance from Ho-young.
And if Manchester City won today, they might even be able to close the gap to Arsenal in third.
Arsenal were set to face Manchester United today.
This was an opportunity they absolutely had to take.
The match began right away.
Manchester City lined up in their usual 4-2-3-1 formation, with Adebayor as the lone striker and Robinho and Shaun Wright-Phillips on the left and right.
At the center of it all was Ho-young, playing as the attacking midfielder.
Wolverhampton, on the other hand, set up in a 5-3-2 shape and, as expected, came with defensive tactics.
[They've gone with three centre-backs and two wing-backs. It looks like they want to attack on the counter. I thought they might park the bus completely, but that's not the case.]
[It seems they've judged that even with an ultra-defensive setup, they still wouldn't be able to withstand Manchester City's pressure. In that case, they may as well leave themselves some room to counter.]
[In other words, it's a gamble.]
[Exactly.]
Wolverhampton's tactics were sharp.
First, once they regained possession, they would circulate the ball in their own half, then loft it wide to the flanks.
Then George Elokobi and Kevin Foley, deployed as the left and right wing-backs, would quickly switch from defense to attack and burst down either flank.
The intention was clear, target the lack of height of Robinho and Shaun Wright-Phillips.
[One long pass sent out to the left at once. George Elokobi races over and gets himself into position.]
[Shaun Wright-Phillips closes him down.]
[Ah, Elokobi wins it easily. He drives straight into the open space.]
"Richards, push up!"
"Okay!"
Thud!
With Gareth Barry and Micah Richards communicating well, they comfortably cut out Elokobi's attack.
But Wolverhampton still had the ball.
[Elokobi works it back inside.]
[Carl Henry receives it. This time he's looking toward the right flank.]
A tense battle of nerves unfolded over both flanks.
To anyone watching, Wolverhampton looked very well prepared.
And it was right then.
[Carl Henry looks long. A quick driven pass out to the right flank!]
This time it was not in the air, but along the ground.
A heavy, fast pass sliced across the pitch toward the right side.
His vision was so good that day it was almost worthy of Xabi Alonso.
But.
Thwack!
The problem was that someone had read it.
[Intercepted! Ho-young cuts it out!]
Just before Kevin Foley could receive it, Ho-young, who had been drifting around in midfield, darted over and barely managed to cut the ball out.
Maybe it was because it was his home debut, but his condition was excellent.
From that moment on, the flow of the game began to change.
(To be continued.)