#108

“Honey, come over here and comfort Jung-hyun. Tell him you’ll forgive him.”

“No, Mother.”

Jung-hyun grabbed his mother’s arm.

It felt like he was talking to a massive wall. In truth, he had felt that way his entire life. Dealing with his mother had always been an uphill battle from childhood until now.

Nevertheless, it was because of his mother that he had been able to endure until now. Because he believed he had to protect her. Because he was all she had.

That alone was the driving force that moved Jung-hyun, who had reached his limit. With that single determination, he had endured and held on through all those long years.

But when he lifted his head, he found himself floating alone on a pitch-black sea where no one else existed.

His mother, whom he thought was struggling and flailing in the sea with him, had actually stepped onto the land called his father a long time ago.

…Why did that fact feel so piercingly futile?

He felt suffocated.

It felt as if someone was pulling his legs down into the depths of the ocean.

Jung-hyun’s knees buckled and gave way. Barely managing to stay upright on both knees, Jung-hyun clung to the hem of his mother’s skirt.

“Mom, please save me.”

“What…?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to live in this suffocating place any longer.”

“Jung-hyun…”

“You know, Mom, that I never once wanted this mansion or Myeong-jeong.”

His mother widened her eyes and looked at Jung-hyun.

“I’ve tried so hard all this time. I’ve endured so much. So please, save me this time.”

“…….”

“Can’t I just leave this place, please? Can’t you just say that you want to live with me, just the two of us?”

“……Jung-hyun.”

“Mom, please.”

With a troubled expression, Gwi-ran slowly stroked Jung-hyun’s face. Then, she whispered in a gentle voice.

“My poor Jung-hyun, it’s just because you’re under too much stress. Let’s get some deep rest for a few days and then go to the hospital with Mom. The doctor will remove any trace of the child as if it were never there.”

“…….”

“After that, Mom will talk to Writer Kyung. If I tell her that our Jung-hyun made a mistake because he was feeling a bit depressed before the wedding, Writer Kyung won’t scold him too harshly.”

“…….”

“There’s such a thing as ‘marriage blue,’ after all.”

His mother smiled as she spoke.

“Then everything will return to where it belongs.”

A single long tear streamed down from the eyes of Jung-hyun, who had been looking up at his mother.

* * *

“Ho Jae-shin, good work today. See you tomorrow.”

“Ho-jae, Ho-jae, get home safe.”

Min-chul and Du-min, sitting in the driver’s and passenger’s seats, held out their fists to Ho-jae in the back.

It was nearly midnight, as they had spent a long time analyzing today’s game and holding a strategy meeting even after the fourth game against the Tigers ended.

Ho-jae lightly bumped fists with Du-min and Min-chul in turn and asked.

“The meeting with Peter tomorrow is at Sang-gon hyung’s house, right?”

“Yeah. Get some good rest, and try not to use your shoulder if possible.”

Ho-jae gave a small smirk, said goodbye to Min-chul in the driver’s seat, and closed the car door. The car carrying the two of them soon drove away.

Since Peter rejoined, it had become a daily routine for the 21 players (excluding Choi Yong-su, who was out for the season) to gather for meetings every day, whether it was a game day or not.

Since there were a total of eight playoff games, they had been running without a single day off for nearly a month. Everyone had reached their physical limit.

Injuries were frequent, and there wasn’t a single spot on any player’s body that didn’t ache. Despite that, not one person dropped out. Ho-jae felt more strongly than ever that the players’ hearts were united as one.

Shin Ho-jae turned toward the apartment complex and shifted his duffel bag to the other shoulder.

During today’s fourth game against the HI Tigers, the pain in his shoulder had intensified again. Ho-jae habitually touched the taped shoulder joint as he walked slowly.

Before he knew it, the final game of the finals was only two days away. The battle between the Blue Wolves and the HI Tigers was a close call every time. Since they had each taken two wins during the first four games, the score was back to square one ahead of the final fifth game.

The Tigers would likely fight for their lives, given their pride as a team that had won for three consecutive years. But the same went for the Blue Wolves. He had no intention of losing easily.

Crossing the parking lot, Ho-jae looked up and absentmindedly gazed at the eighth floor where his home was. The light in Shin Yeon-jae’s room was still on. He had mentioned it was midterm season, so it seemed he was studying late.

Instead of heading straight home, Ho-jae took out his phone and called reporter Park Ha-na.

Shortly after putting the phone to his ear, an automated voice informed him that the phone was turned off. Shin Ho-jae let out a faint sigh and sent her a text message.

[Please contact me once you see this message.]

It had already been a month since he last had contact with Park Ha-na. The reason he was less worried than at first was that he had confirmed articles were still being posted under reporter Park Ha-na’s name on Daily One.

As long as articles are being posted, she must be doing well. She might just be too busy to contact him separately.

Thinking that, Ho-jae pressed back on Park Ha-na’s message window. Then, as if by habit, his finger clicked on a window that had been stopped at a message from four months ago.

[Merry Christmas]

[It’s late, but]

[CEO Kwon Jung-hyun]

[Thank you. Have a great end of the year.]

Above that were piles of messages from Jung-hyun notifying him of locations and times, and his own short responses. Thus, this was the first message where the two had shared a private conversation.

Shin Ho-jae stared at that message for a long time. Then, he slowly clicked on his profile.

A blank profile with nothing on it. However, the profile background photo remained.

Ho-jae clicked the background photo to enlarge it. It was a photo he had seen so many hundreds of times that he had practically memorized it, but he couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered every time he saw it.

His profile background was a photo of the ice rink in Suwon. Perhaps taken from the stands, the floor of the rink was clearly visible, and the photo captured the figures of players training.

Ho-jae slowly slid the photo in one direction. Soon, a back view showing back number 86 entered the screen.

It was his own back, but it felt somewhat unfamiliar. Was it because it was from Jung-hyun’s perspective?

When, and with what feeling, did he take this photo? And why hasn’t he changed it until now?

Of course, he knew it probably didn’t mean much. Kwon Jung-hyun probably just took it absentmindedly while visiting the rink back when he was the team owner. Jung-hyun might not even know that he was in the photo.

Yes, that must be it. He might have forgotten what photo was set because he’s so busy preparing for the wedding. I’m just being over-conscious.

Shin Ho-jae put his phone back in his pocket and walked blankly.

He could still clearly remember the moment he sent the Christmas greeting two days late.

At the time, there were away games for three consecutive weeks. The schedule involved moving from Sakhalin, Russia, to Yokohama, Japan, and then to Hokkaido.

Shin Ho-jae had waited for Jung-hyun throughout the away games. But he never appeared at the away games in the end. That late Christmas greeting was something Shin Ho-jae had sent after agonizing over it for three full weeks.

Why had it been so difficult to send such a short greeting that he hesitated for three weeks? He didn’t know then, but he knew now. It was probably because he felt those five words would make his heart transparent.

His heart, which didn’t know what to do because he was so attracted to him.

But while he was flailing in the fever of his first love, Jung-hyun must have been spending time with his fiancée.

When he thought of that, his chest still ached as if it were being split in two. His chest wasn’t actually splitting, yet why was the pain so concrete? He would have never known this for the rest of his life if he hadn’t actually experienced it.

Shin Ho-jae slowly took a large loop around the apartment complex. Every day, after finishing the meetings and returning home, he didn’t go inside immediately but made time to walk around the neighborhood for an hour or two.

If he didn’t, it was difficult to find time to be alone. When he was with his teammates, he had to focus as much as possible on the games and meetings, and at home, there were Yeon-jae and his mother.

The time spent thinking about Kwon Jung-hyun was painful. As mentioned, he felt physical pain in his chest. But he couldn’t help himself. Otherwise, he felt like he would truly go crazy.

To let someone go, one must carve them out from within.

It was something Jung-hyun had made him realize when he let his father go.

So, he thought of himself as carving Jung-hyun out by walking for an hour or two every single day.

But no matter how much he walked and walked, the Jung-hyun inside him didn’t diminish in the slightest.

When on earth will it get better? He wished some omnipotent being would just tell him how many days it would take to carve him out so he could feel better.

How long had he walked like that?

A long shadow in a secluded alley caught Ho-jae’s eye.

His steps and gaze stopped as if captivated.

It was the back of a man wearing a black trench coat.

Since he couldn’t see the face, it could have been a mistake. And yet, his heart recognized him first and began to beat wildly.

It’s Jung-hyun.

It was definitely him.

Shin Ho-jae moved his feet very slowly. He had the strange feeling that if he ran or hurried his pace, the man would scatter like smoke.

As he did, he glanced at where the man’s head was turned. He could see his own home.

Since Ho-jae could only see his back, he couldn’t see his gaze, but it seemed as if he was looking at the eighth floor where his home was.

His heart pounded violently.

At that moment, the scent of his perfume began to mix into the air. Ho-jae’s face froze.

It was the scent of that pheromone perfume. The scent of dried grass, as if lightly crushed by hand.

Once he realized that, the feeling that his toes were floating away vanished like smoke, and the last image of Jung-hyun he had seen came to mind.

The voice shouting at him to leave quickly. The back view of him walking out side-by-side, leaning on Kyung Seung-hee.

The thumping sound of his heart naturally calmed down. The same went for his flushed cheeks. Ho-jae moistened his dry lips with his tongue and quietly stood behind him.

“…What brings you here?”

109 – PUCK DROP