#58

“…….”

“Do you remember who I am?”

“…Kwon Jung-hyun.”

At the three syllables of his name, clipped and devoid of any title, Jung-hyun let out a weary smile.

“Anyway, I’m glad you woke up safely. When I heard you collapsed during the game, I was truly….”

Stopping there, Jung-hyun averted his gaze and looked down.

He took a short breath and let his lips curl into a smile that felt more like a sigh. By the time he looked up again, his expression had returned to its usual state.

A brief silence settled between the two. Ho-jae, propping himself up halfway with his elbows, stared at his face, and Jung-hyun, with a sunken expression, stared back at Ho-jae.

He couldn’t quite explain it, but the air in the room felt heavy. He couldn’t easily tell if it was because he felt dazed from the concussion or if the atmosphere was actually like that.

Looking at the reclining Ho-jae, Jung-hyun swallowed quietly. He looked like someone about to deliver a piece of news that was difficult to convey.

“And there is one thing I need to tell you.”

“…….”

“While you were unconscious, Mr. Ho-jae….”

“Oh, Shin Ho-jae. You’re awake.”

Jung-hyun’s words were cut off as the door to the infirmary opened. It was the team doctor. He approached the bed and checked Ho-jae’s pupils, tongue, and pulse.

“How are you feeling? Quite dazed, right?”

“Yes…. Was I unconscious?”

Ho-jae answered blankly, his eyes following Kwon Jung-hyun, who had stepped back.

“No. You walked over to the bed and lay down, and after saying you felt dizzy, you fell asleep. Have you been lacking sleep lately?”

“Ah… yes.”

“As you know, initial rest is the most important thing for a concussion. I know you’ll be anxious since it’s the middle of the season, but if you’re careless, you could be left with aftereffects.”

Ho-jae nodded slightly.

Regarding injuries that could occur during a game, they were always trained on everything from first aid to treatment methods.

Concussions, in particular, were one of the most frequent injuries for hockey players, whose physical clashes were intense.

“I’ve relayed your condition to the coach and requested that you be excluded from the roster for all games until next week. Please keep that in mind. Oh, and don’t nod your head too vigorously.”

It was in the middle of the team doctor explaining the types of medication needed from neurology and the precautions to take when a vibration sounded from somewhere.

The team doctor and Ho-jae instinctively looked toward the sound. Jung-hyun answered.

“Ah…. It must be Mr. Ho-jae’s phone.”

“Go ahead and take it. I’ve pretty much finished the explanation.”

The team doctor stepped back slightly, and Jung-hyun handed over the phone he had placed on a chair.

The caller was his mother. Still feeling somewhat dazed, Ho-jae slowly pressed the call button.

─Ho-jae….

Without a common greeting like “Hello,” his mother’s tear-soaked voice poured into his ear.

Her voice was so drenched in grief that he could tell even over the phone.

His hands and feet turned ice cold.

With just those three syllables, he instinctively knew why his mother was calling. Shin Ho-jae just held the receiver to his ear, like a man who had lost his voice.

─…I heard from the representative. They said there was an accident. Are you okay now?

“…….”

─Recover slowly and come this way. Your father must have been in a hurry because he wanted to see his son’s game….

His mother’s voice, struggling to maintain composure, settled in his heart syllable by syllable. Ho-jae barely managed to open his mouth to speak.

“Wh-when? When… why all of a sudden?”

His mother answered calmly, like someone repeating words she had already explained several times.

About two hours ago, his father had suddenly developed symptoms of pneumonia. If left as is, it was a life-threatening situation.

Since his father was an organ donor, the guardian’s consent was needed to stop life-sustaining treatment, and his mother had eventually signed the consent form, unable to wait for Ho-jae.

With that story, his mother hung up the phone.

Clatter.

Before his mind and heart could even process his mother’s words, his legs moved first.

“Wait… you shouldn’t move like that…!”

Mr. Ho-jae!”

Ho-jae practically leaped off the bed, pushing past people and stepping out of the infirmary.

He heard voices trying to stop him from behind, but conversely, he heard nothing at all. Ho-jae walked down the hallway barefoot, not even knowing where he was heading.

Then, suddenly, his head spun. His insides churned like someone suffering from severe motion sickness. Sour saliva pooled in his mouth, and a surge of nausea hit him instantly.

Shin Ho-jae bent over and vomited right there in the hallway.

Gag, retch. The sound of vomiting echoed inside his skull as if it didn’t belong to him. Heat rushed to his eyes, and his head felt like it was about to split open.

He felt a warm sensation on his back. Someone’s hand slowly rubbed his back.

“…You shouldn’t move so suddenly.”

Ho-jae turned his head to look at Kwon Jung-hyun. It didn’t take long for a glint of accusation to mix into his gaze.

“I’ll take you to the hospital. Just sit here and wait a moment.”

“…You knew?”

A voice mixed with a metallic rasp escaped his lips. Jung-hyun answered with a calm face.

“Your mother called while you were asleep. It seemed urgent, so I answered. I’m sorry about your father, but….”

“You knew, and you just let me sleep?”

“…You were injured too, Mr. Ho-jae. A head injury, specifically. I couldn’t wake you because I knew you’d rush off like this.”

“What… what kind of bullshit is that?”

Ho-jae’s voice trembled slightly as he gasped for air. Saliva smelling of acid flowed thickly down his lower lip and under his chin.

“…You should have woken me.”

“…….”

“You should have woken me up even if you had to slap me in the face!”

His shouting voice rang loudly through the empty hallway.

She said two hours ago. That was after the game. And that was when he was lying on the medical bed.

If he hadn’t suffered a concussion, if he had finished today’s game normally, it was enough time to have arrived at the hospital.

If that had happened, he could have kept his father’s final moments alongside his mother and Yeon-jae.

The image of his father’s healthy appearance the last time he saw him came to mind.

The sight of his father’s back as he hurried him away without even sharing a single meal. How much had he regretted that after his father had first collapsed?

And yet, once again, he failed to see his father off on his final journey.

His mother told him that his father had hurried away because he wanted to see his game, but his father couldn’t have seen the game.

Because at that time, he had been lying there, fast asleep.

“To me, it was more important that Shin Ho-jae recovered without aftereffects.”

A hollow laugh escaped Ho-jae’s mouth.

“Mr. Ho-jae.”

Ho-jae shook off Jung-hyun’s hand with a force that made a loud smack.

“Thanks to you, I’ve become the son who couldn’t even be there for his father’s death.”

He knew it was an unfair vent of anger. However, he couldn’t stop unless he blamed someone.

Kwon Jung-hyun didn’t say a word and simply stood silently by Ho-jae’s side.

Ho-jae wiped the saliva from around his chin with the back of his hand and straightened his posture. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, but no tears came. There was no time to waste crying in a place like this.

His mother and Yeon-jae must be waiting for him. He heard a voice calling him from behind, but Ho-jae quickened his pace as if he couldn’t hear it.

* * *

The funeral altar was set up at the funeral hall of the hospital where his father had been admitted.

Contrary to his expectation that they wouldn’t be able to do anything until he arrived, his mother was seamless in calling the funeral service and choosing the funeral supplies, as if she had practiced beforehand. The same went for Yeon-jae, who helped his mother with a fairly composed expression, offering various opinions.

The month spent in the intensive care unit—short if you think about it, long if you don’t—seemed to have given the family time to prepare their hearts to let their father go. It was bittersweet, but he felt it was a relief for his family.

“Oppa. Mom says you should change your clothes too.”

He heard Yeon-jae’s voice while tidying the table in front of the altar. Turning his head, he saw Yeon-jae changed into black mourning clothes.

When he went into the small room inside the funeral hall, his mother was standing there, changed into a black hanbok just like Yeon-jae.

The sight was somehow heartbreaking, so Ho-jae instinctively hugged his mother’s back. His mother patted Ho-jae’s arm.

“I went home to get your father’s photo.”

As he pulled away slightly at her words, he saw a black suit in his mother’s hand.

“I thought the clothes they lend here wouldn’t fit my son, so I looked in your room and found a suit for mourning. When did you buy this?”

“Ah….”

“Good job. You should always have at least one decent black suit. Change and come out.”

After saying that, his mother handed him socks and shoes and left the room. Shin Ho-jae stood still in the room for a while, looking down at the suit his mother had given him.

Then, he slowly raised his hand and turned the inside of the jacket over. In the inner pocket, he saw the number 86 embroidered in silver thread.

59 – Puck Drop