#2

“Director, there are four people here with hands; how could you possibly pour your own drink!”

“Ah, I’m just used to drinking alone.”

“That is simply not allowed at a gathering like this!”

As Coach Yoo spoke sternly and snatched the bottle to pour a drink into the man’s glass, Coach Park Nam-woong interjected in a slow drawl.

“If a man as dashing as the Director were to drink alone in a bar, the women around him wouldn’t leave him be.”

“Tell me about it. I’d give anything to live with a face like the Director’s for just one day. Right, Yong-su?”

“Yes, sir. Truly. He looks far more like an Alpha than most of the Alphas on our team.”

The three of them were in perfect sync. It seemed this atmosphere had persisted even before he arrived.

Shin Ho-jae thought it was excessive flattery, but the listener didn’t seem to mind, offering only a light laugh.

Possessing not a shred of social grace, Shin Ho-jae chose to remain silent. In times like this, staying still was the best way to help the Coach.

As he blinked blankly, their eyes suddenly met. The man was looking at Ho-jae with a smile lingering on his lips. Ho-jae’s mouth felt slightly dry.

“Saying such things in front of Player Shin Ho-jae makes it sound like you’re teasing him. Isn’t Player Shin the Alpha of Alphas among Alphas?”

“Oh, teasing? I am one hundred percent sincere.”

“The Coach praised him so much that I was curious, but seeing him up close, he could honestly be a celebrity rather than an athlete.”

“The Director is right. Our Ho-jae has been drawing in female fans since his days on the youth national team.”

“So you’ve known Player Shin since his youth, Coach Park?”

“Yes, yes. Our families have been close since then. My sons unfortunately had to give up hockey because they didn’t undergo manifestation, so it’s reassuring to have Ho-jae excel in their stead.”

As he spoke, Coach Park Nam-woong’s eyes looked at Ho-jae with an affection that felt like real family. It was just as the corners of Ho-jae’s mouth naturally softened.

“But it’s true that female fans increased tremendously after Ho-jae was recruited. I’ve been captain for four years, but this is the first time I’ve seen so many women in the stands.”

“Wow. Last year was truly something. There were huge cameras, the kind you only see at broadcasting stations, swarming the stands… Director, would you like to see one of the videos taken back then?”

“A video?”

“Yes! It’s called a ‘Short.’ Kids these days watch these short clips.”

With that, Coach Yoo Gu-hwan pulled out his phone and held it up in front of Kwon Jung-hyun’s face.

Shin Ho-jae, who had been listening from a distance as if the conversation weren’t about him, felt his eyes waver. He didn’t want to see it, but due to the angle, the video playing on the screen was clearly visible.

It was himself, panting with a sweat-drenched face immediately after a game. Soon, a slow-motion shot played of him lifting his jersey to wipe the sweat from his face, providing a close-up of the defined abs and iliac crest hidden beneath his clothes.

Director Kwon Jung-hyun simply watched the video with that same smiling face, but for some reason, he seemed exceptionally focused.

Watching this, sweat pooled in Shin Ho-jae’s palms and the area below his cheeks flushed bright red. He felt like leaping out of his seat right then and there.

“But Director, our Ho-jae is better at hockey than he is at being a face.”

Fortunately, Coach Park, who had been observing the situation with the pride of a father bragging about his son, steered the conversation back on track.

“When he was young, since Ho-jae was tall, we made him play defense no matter what, but it turned out he was great at offense too. His skills improved so much after he went to Canada. To be honest, it was thanks to Ho-jae that we made the playoffs last year. Though it’s a shame we stopped at 4th place…”

“I watched all of last year’s games. Player Shin Ho-jae was practically doing the work of five people on his own.”

Shin Ho-jae, who had been rubbing his face with the back of his hand as the lingering embarrassment of the video persisted, glanced at the man.

‘Doing the work of five people on his own’?

Unlike Ho-jae, Coach Park seemed deeply struck by the part where he said, ‘I watched all of last year’s games.’

“It would be wonderful if someone like Director Kwon were to acquire our team.”

As expected, Coach Park’s eyes, which were easily moved, quickly became moist. If it weren’t for the table separating them, he probably would have lunged forward to hug Director Kwon or grabbed his hand tightly.

As Ho-jae quietly observed the man’s face, he saw that he was merely wearing a troubled smile at Coach Park’s remark.

…Was it just his imagination?

For a moment, it sounded like a sarcastic comment.

Perhaps he had become too sensitive. Throughout the last season, he had to endure criticisms like ‘arrogant play,’ ‘ice hockey that became a one-man show,’ and ‘Shin Ho-jae and four bridesmaids.’

But that had been Shin Ho-jae’s best effort at the time. For someone who had played in Canada, the level of the East Asian league—and specifically the Blue Wolves, who hovered at the bottom—couldn’t possibly have been satisfying.

Since there was no magic trick to raise the skill level of his teammates in a short period, he had no choice but to hold onto the puck for as long as possible if they wanted to win.

Thanks to that, Shin Ho-jae became the top scorer of the last season by an overwhelming margin over second place. It was said to be the first time a top scorer had come from the Blue Wolves since the club’s inception.

Including that, the first playoff appearance in six years and the 4th place finish were achievements that would not have been possible if Shin Ho-jae hadn’t been recruited last year.

However, the atmosphere within the team was not great. Saying that these results wouldn’t have happened without Shin Ho-jae was, conversely, saying that the records were achieved by Shin Ho-jae alone.

“This is a bit burdensome. I originally requested a casual meeting. Player Shin Ho-jae, I only mentioned that I was curious, yet I’ve made you travel a long way.”

Coach Yoo responded to the man, bypassing Coach Park, who was dabbing his eyes with a tissue.

“Did you notice? We did it on purpose to make you feel burdened. If this restaurant were a bit cheaper, I could have called all the kids on the team.”

“Ho-jae. Pour them each a drink.”

Choi Yong-su quietly handed him the bottle. It was exactly the right timing for a drink.

“Goodness. It’s too hot to be wearing a tie in May.”

At Coach Park’s request to step away for a moment, they had moved to the smoking room located outside the restaurant.

Choi Yong-su hooked his index finger into the tie he had been wearing neatly and loosened it. In his other hand, he held a single cigarette.

Shin Ho-jae sat silently on the chair in the smoking room, watching Choi Yong-su smoke.

“Sorry, Ho-jae. You don’t even smoke. You have to keep skating, so never ever smoke things like this.”

Choi Yong-su said, waving his hand repeatedly. Doing so wouldn’t clear the acrid smoke trapped in the small space, but he likely did it out of guilt. In truth, Shin Ho-jae didn’t particularly mind. If he really hated the smoke, he would have stayed elsewhere.

“Hey, look at this. Since I’m missing a front tooth, the smoke keeps leaking out here.”

Yong-su suddenly grinned, showing his teeth. Seeing the white smoke billowing through the gap where the front tooth should be, Shin Ho-jae let out a small laugh.

“Funny, right? My daughter loves it. I’m thinking of not getting an implant even after I retire.”

“I like it. It looks like an ice hockey player; it’s really cool.”

“Right? Jealous, aren’t you?”

Ho-jae gave a bitter smile toward the grinning captain.

Choi Yong-su had lost a tooth after being hit by an opposing player’s stick during the playoff deciding match last season. That day, with his mouth covered in blood, Choi Yong-su had smiled brightly.

A missing front tooth was like a symbol of an ice hockey player, and indeed, North American players take pride in losing a tooth during an important game. That was why the captain had smiled so brightly, saying he finally felt like a real ice hockey player.

The reason why the captain, who took such pride in his athletic career, had started smoking again and spoke as if he were already considering retirement while telling Ho-jae ‘not to smoke’ was simple.

The dissolution of the team.

He had heard the news two months ago, at a dinner party held after the Blue Wolves confirmed their playoff spot. The occasion, which should have been joyful, sank into a chilling silence as if struck by a disaster following a single word from Coach Park Nam-woong.

It was news that due to the continuous management deterioration of the parent company, Daeyang Shipbuilding, they would be exiting the sports business after this season.

Coach Park bowed his head before the players, shedding tears and apologizing repeatedly. Many players wailed along with him.

Korea is a wasteland for ice hockey. Unlike other sports where you can simply transfer to another team if one disappears, the dissolution of an ice hockey team meant immediate retirement for the players.

Everyone had likely been vaguely worrying about their career paths after retirement, but no one would have expected their playing days to end so abruptly.

There were twenty-two players who had held nothing but hockey sticks for 20, or in some cases, over 30 years.

At a minimum, it was 440 years of time, and a history built upon 1,320 pairs of skates, given that they used and discarded three pairs every year.

All those years and efforts, lives and livelihoods, were at risk of vanishing like bubbles in an instant.

“What’s happening with the acquisition talks?”

Choi Yong-su, who was just lighting his second cigarette, looked up at Ho-jae’s question.

“They say it won’t be easy. I don’t even know if the Association can force it, but they’re just sitting back and watching…”

“…”

“But in my opinion, in this economy, what company would spend ten billion won to acquire a sports team? To put it bluntly, it might be different if we were a soccer or baseball team. Haha.”

Self-deprecating humor flowed from the captain’s mouth as naturally as breathing. Shin Ho-jae chuckled.

When he first returned from Canada, he used to frown every time such jokes were made, but in just one year, Shin Ho-jae had completely internalized it. It was bitter, but this was the reality of domestic ice hockey.

‘Shin Ho-jae, you can just go back to Canada. You’re different from us, who have to think about retirement the moment the team disappears.’

Had someone said that at the dinner party? That was a comment made by someone who didn’t know Shin Ho-jae’s circumstances.

“Coach and the assistant coach are working their tails off, so as captain, I shouldn’t be the one saying this… but honestly, I think it’ll be very difficult.”

Daeyang Shipbuilding had stepped forward to cover six months of salaries for the players, coaching staff, and office employees.

In other words, it was like giving severance pay while notifying them of their layoff. Along with that, it was intended to help the team remain self-sufficient for half a year.

To keep the team existing after six months, they had to find a new company to acquire the Blue Wolves, raise several billion won in contributions to start anew as a community-owned club, or at least find a naming sponsor to put a sponsor’s name in front of the club name under a fixed-term contract.

None of those options were easy. The situation was even more difficult because a company that had been pursuing an acquisition until recently had pulled out.

They desperately needed someone’s help.

3 – Puck Drop