After a quick shower and a change into his club tracksuit, Izan followed Baraja down the hallway leading to the conference room.
The corridor was a blend of noise and motion—journalists, club officials, and staff bustling about. Izan felt the buzz around him, the kind of energy that comes when something extraordinary has happened.
Baraja walked ahead, his calm demeanour a reassuring presence. As they approached the doors of the conference room, Izan caught a glimpse of the packed hall.
Cameras were set up in every corner, microphones lined the table, and journalists filled every available seat.
"Ready?" Baraja asked, his eyes meeting Izan's.
Izan nodded. "Yeah, we can start," he said before glancing around through a small pocket of space on the hinge of the door after it opened.
