#102

After leaving the hospital, Jung-hyun headed not toward the parking lot, but toward the hospital’s backyard.

It was a meager and desolate place, consisting of nothing more than two benches and a few skeletal trees. In the corner, he could see patients smoking and a few young children, likely the family members of those patients, running and playing nearby.

Out of habit, he reached for the pack of cigarettes inside his coat, but his hand faltered. After a moment of hesitation, Jung-hyun decided against taking one out and instead sat on a bench far removed from the smokers.

Though it was March, the air was still cold. Perhaps that was why Jung-hyun was the only person resting on the benches.

It was time to leave for the hospital where his surgery was scheduled, but Jung-hyun leaned back leisurely, as if he weren’t being chased by time at all.

The sky was filled with a hazy gray fine dust. As he slowly closed his eyes, the sound he had heard in the ultrasound image lingered in his mind. That sound, leaping vibrantly, unaware of its own fate.

‘If growth is difficult in the uterus, couldn’t we get help from an incubator?’

That was the question he had asked earlier after hearing about the possibility of a natural miscarriage. At his question, the doctor had looked slightly surprised.

Jung-hyun had also been surprised by his own words. Had he not scheduled the surgery of his own volition?

If so, the right reaction should have been relief at the news that there was a high probability of a natural miscarriage. He could have eased his pathetic guilt, telling himself it was destined to happen anyway. Yet, he had asked such a question, as if he were someone who desperately wanted to give birth and raise the child.

Before his heart could settle from the shock of his own statement, the doctor’s voice reached him, sounding pitying.

‘Usually, premature babies who enter incubators in this country are those born at seven months. Conversely, that means they must grow in the uterus for at least seven months. However, given your current condition, it is difficult to be certain whether the fetus can survive in the uterus until the seventh month.’

The doctor’s words sounded irresponsible. Instead of blindly saying it was difficult, shouldn’t he have explained how to survive until the seventh month, or whether incubator systems abroad were different if the domestic situation was like that? Why did he exclude all those possibilities and only say it wouldn’t work?

The last image of Shin Ho-jae came to mind. The hand that had helped him when he was retching at the banquet, the face that had stiffened after encountering Kyung Seung-hee, and the sight of him standing beside Kwon Ki-hyuk.

It was a face he had consciously tried not to recall until now.

To him, the child in his womb was merely something to be removed for his mother’s sake. But whenever he thought of Shin Ho-jae’s face or that final night, he felt as though he were doing something terrible.

Jung-hyun fiddled with the surface of the cigarette pack in his pocket.

What kind of expression would Shin Ho-jae make if he heard this news? Since he is a kind person, would he be happy about the news of the child and sad about the news of its removal?

No. To Shin Ho-jae, he was likely just a piece of trash—a man who assaulted a reporter and saw his fiancé and sponsor simultaneously. To think he would be kind as before was nothing more than his own greed.

The sound of children laughing drifted over. Jung-hyun unconsciously shifted his gaze. Little girls, appearing to be about six or seven years old, were running around the hospital backyard.

The two girls, laughing incessantly as if something were incredibly joyful, ran close to the bench where Jung-hyun sat. In an instant, one of them tripped and fell flat on her face in front of him.

“…Are you okay? You have to be careful.”

Startled, Jung-hyun reflexively helped the child up. The girl, whose hair was tied in two pigtails, rubbed her reddened forehead, looking embarrassed as she stood up. She looked quite mature as she dusted off her knees and gave a polite bow.

“Thank you.”

“She always falls over,” the other child giggled from behind, and the two girls ran off in the opposite direction as quickly as they had arrived.

Jung-hyun slowly stood up and watched blankly as the two children ran back to their family. A middle-aged woman, presumably the mother of the child who fell, gave Jung-hyun a slight, polite nod. Jung-hyun instinctively bowed back and watched until the family left the area.

Suddenly, he thought of the nurse’s daughter.

She had said the child was conceived through rape, and because of that child, she had been disowned by her parents.

How, then, could she have given such a daughter the name Somang?

Unexpectedly, he became very curious about that.

* * *

In the end, some of the Blue Wolves players had to play the playoff deciding match without their own equipment.

In place of Alexei, who could not play due to the lack of protective gear, Ahn Dong-ju, the backup goalie, made his first appearance of the season. Thanks to him holding his own unexpectedly well, they were able to win the first game, but the second day was the problem.

After conceding two consecutive goals, it became evident that his mental state was shaking. Shin Ho-jae immediately dove into the defense. He judged that the priority was to defend the goal as much as possible alongside Ahn Dong-ju.

Yoo Gu-hwan shouted that he would pull Shin Ho-jae from the line for once again defying his orders, but in a match they absolutely had to win, such words were nothing more than empty threats.

However, despite Shin Ho-jae’s efforts, the second game ultimately ended in defeat.

The causes of the loss were varied. The acting coach and the players were still not in sync, the guardian of the goal was weak, seven players including Shin Ho-jae had to play using borrowed equipment, and since it was the end of the season, everyone was at their limit physically and mentally.

“Are you still in pain?”

“Please give me one more shot.”

“This is already the fifth one. You know that, right?”

Shin Ho-jae simply nodded without a word.

His shoulder had not been in great condition to begin with, and after pushing himself for two days wearing protective gear that didn’t fit, he had suffered a more severe injury than expected from an opponent’s tackle.

However, in the latter half of the season, everyone played while relying on painkillers, even if it wasn’t him. It would be stranger to have no injuries over a period of more than six months.

As evidence of this, the medical room after the match was very crowded. If there was any silver lining, it was the belated news that the missing equipment bags had been found somewhere in Europe.

“Has that other match not ended yet?”

“No. It looks like they’ve gone into overtime.”

“Damn. I’m getting nervous.”

The playoff deciding match between Tohoku Winterbore and Sakhalin Lets Swim was currently underway in real-time.

Since the Blue Wolves’ playoff deciding match ended with one win and one loss, the team that would receive the ticket to the playoffs would change depending on the result of the match between the two teams with similar points.

While everyone waited anxiously for the game to end, Shin Ho-jae took out his phone in the corner of the medical room.

As the screen lit up, the last page he had been viewing appeared.

[Owner Family of Myeong-jeong Attends Funeral of Late Chairman Kwon Deuk-jeong]

In the photo were the current president of Korea Aviation, Kwon Myung-chul, and Kwon Ki-hyuk, both dressed in black suits.

The family photo he had seen in Kwon Ki-hyuk’s office would not leave his mind. Thus, whenever he had a spare moment, he was scouring articles about Myeong-jeong’s owner family.

There were a few articles about Kwon Ki-hyuk since he had appeared while forming the MJ Sports team, but articles about his mother were nowhere to be found.

Shin Ho-jae zoomed in on the photo with his finger.

Kwon Myung-chul.

This man, who looked very much like Kwon Ki-hyuk, was definitely the person who had been in the frame. He must be the biological father of Ki-hyuk and Jung-hyun. Then, who was the woman in that frame…?

Shin Ho-jae pressed back and continued to click through old articles one by one. And finally, he found a short article from fifteen years ago.

[(Obituary) Wife of Kwon Myung-chul, President of Korea Aviation, Passes Away]

Shin Ho-jae’s gaze lingered on that phrase for a long time. Very slowly, the things he had found strange until now began to click together in his mind. It was then.

“Wooooo! Ho-jae hyung! We’re going to the playoffs!”

A shout that hit his eardrums filled the medical room and the hallway. The match between Winterbore and Lets Swim had just ended. As a result, Lets Swim recorded the same points as the Blue Wolves, but the tie was broken by goal difference.

“It’s all thanks to the goal Ho-jae hyung scored today!”

Shin Ho-jae was shaken back and forth, his arm gripped by Park Hyeong-hun. Everyone was letting out joyful cheers.

He felt more bewildered than happy. He and his teammates had done their best given the circumstances, but the conditions had been too poor. There was nothing to say other than they were lucky.

His phone vibrated repeatedly. Seeing the name on the screen, he stepped away from the commotion of the players into the emergency exit stairs and closed the door. He immediately pressed the call button.

─It’s been a while, Player Shin.

“…Reporter.”

It was Reporter Park Ha-na.

He hadn’t been in contact with Park Ha-na for a long time. Seeing her silence, he had thought she, like him, had accepted Jung-hyun’s charges. For her to contact him now meant…

─By any chance, are you still interested in CEO Kwon Jung-hyun?

A loud cheer echoed from outside the hallway. Only then did Ho-jae’s heart, which had been blank, begin to thrum as if someone were beating a drum.

“…Of course.”

─I was hoping you’d say that.

Park Ha-na laughed lightly and continued.

─Reporter Kim In-jung had the recording file from that day.

Shin Ho-jae narrowed his eyes. There was only one day that could be called ‘that day’ between him and Park Ha-na.

“By that day, do you mean the day the assault incident occurred?”

─Yes. Senior Kim’s materialistic side is actually helpful in cases like this. There is a file where the events of that day were secretly recorded, and he had been secretly contacting various places because he wanted to sell that file for a high price.

Shin Ho-jae swallowed hard.

─And we decided to buy that file.

“…Are you saying that the recording file contains evidence that CEO Jung-hyun is innocent?”

Unable to hold back any longer, Ho-jae interrupted her to ask.

─I’m sorry, but I can’t answer that in detail. According to regulations, I shouldn’t even be making this call. But in a way, Player Shin is also a related party. That’s why I wanted to tell you.

“…Thank you.”

─I’ll take your thanks after the scoop is published.

After answering decisively, Park Ha-na continued.

─Oh, and congratulations on making the playoffs. CEO Jung-hyun will be very happy too.

However, he couldn’t answer that immediately. The image of Kwon Jung-hyun saying, ‘Whether the Blue Wolves win or not, it has nothing to do with me now,’ came to mind. Ho-jae smiled bitterly and answered belatedly.

“I don’t think so.”

─Why? I thought Player Shin would know better than anyone how much CEO Jung-hyun wanted the Blue Wolves to win. Ah, I have to hang up now. Well then, make sure to check out the scoop!

With those final words, the call clicked shut.

Shin Ho-jae stood still in the emergency exit stairs, holding the blackened screen and chewing over Park Ha-na’s words.

‘How much he wanted them to win.’

A small smile spread across his face belatedly.

He felt as though someone had finally acknowledged that Kwon Jung-hyun’s statement—that it had nothing to do with him—was not the truth.

103 – PUCK DROP