#114

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There was a magnolia tree in the front yard of the Seongbuk-dong mansion as well.

Unlike the one he had seen in the south, this one was still in bud. Jung-hyun gazed up at the magnolia tree, habitually fiddling with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. It had been exactly one year since he last saw the magnolias here.

“Oh my, Young Master!”

Turning his head, he saw Suncheon-daek, the woman who handled all the household chores for the main house, approaching him with hurried movements. Jung-hyun gave her a faint smile.

“Have you been well?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. But there’s still plenty of time before the birthday table is ready; what brings you here so early? The Madam is still at the salon…”

Jung-hyun shook his head gently.

“I came to see my father. Could you please tell him I’m here?”

“I will. If you wait in the annex, I’ll bring some refreshments over to you.”

“That’s alright. My conversation will be brief.”

“Still, won’t you be hungry by the time dinner is served?”

Jung-hyun let out a small “ah” and looked at Suncheon-daek.

“You don’t need to set a place for me at dinner today. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat.”

At those words, Suncheon-daek’s eyes widened.

“Why not? The sweet rice cakes turned out so well today, what a shame… The chestnuts brought from my hometown last Lunar New Year are truly large and sweet. Shall I pack some for you before you leave?”

“I’ll consider them eaten. Thank you.”

Jung-hyun replied politely and began to walk away. Suncheon-daek, watching his retreating back with a somewhat disappointed expression, called out to him once more. “Young Master!”

“I forgot the most important greeting. Happy birthday.”

Jung-hyun let out a short laugh at the trivial remark.

Today was the day of the annual family dinner held to celebrate the birthdays of Jung-hyun and Ki-hyuk. Given the various events that had occurred both internally and externally, it would have been easy to skip it this year, but it seemed his mother insisted that the family dinner was the one thing she didn’t want to miss.

Jung-hyun passed through the corridor of the main building and stepped into the hanok annex. As he opened the sliding door covered in stiff traditional paper, the scent of a well-maintained wooden mansion wafted out. Jung-hyun looked around the place, which he was visiting for the first time in exactly a year, out of habit.

On the long table in the center of the room, a white tablecloth and yellow daffodils were arranged as decoration, and behind them stood a luxurious twelve-panel folding screen.

It was the screen his grandfather had gifted to his grandmother, who used to spend every night weeping in longing for her hometown. Jung-hyun’s gaze settled on a pair of butterflies embroidered on the screen.

This screen told a single story that progressed from right to left. The first panel contained a white butterfly and a lonely riverside landscape, and the second panel showed a yellow butterfly flying toward that riverside.

From the third to the tenth panel, the two butterflies flew together like a pair, leisurely sightseeing through various rare landscapes across the seasons, and in the final two panels, the yellow butterfly remained alone and lonely.

Those last two panels differed slightly in their degree of fading compared to the preceding ones. This was because the screen, which had originally been ten panels, had two more added after his grandmother passed away.

These were all stories his grandfather had told him. His grandfather loved to sit the young Jung-hyun down and talk about the grandmother who had passed away early.

‘Jung-hyun, you really take after your grandmother.’

And whenever the story ended, he would always say that while stroking Jung-hyun’s cheek, his eyes filled with a deep sense of regret.

It was all a story of the past. Jung-hyun looked away from the screen with an expressionless face. Just then, footsteps were heard in the corridor. After a short wait, his father, with a hardened expression, flung the door open violently.

“Was it you who played this kind of prank…!”

As soon as he entered the room, his father threw printed papers at Jung-hyun. The papers hit his chest and fluttered down to the floor.

Jung-hyun cast an indifferent glance at the papers. They contained evidence that could prove the manipulation of merger ratios between Myeong-jeong and its affiliates, as well as stock price manipulation by the Myeong-jeong Group. These were the documents he had sent to his father’s email account this morning.

“I asked if you were the one who did this.”

“…….”

Jung-hyun looked up at his father’s face. Although he didn’t answer, his father surely knew that the silence was an affirmation.

“You’ve truly gone mad. From breaking an engagement to blackmail… Just what do you think you’re relying on to pull off such things? You have no backing whatsoever.”

His father’s voice was thick with suppressed rage. Jung-hyun watched him quietly before speaking bluntly.

“Why would I have no backing?”

“What?”

“I have you, Father.”

The corners of Jung-hyun’s mouth curled into a smile.

“And it’s disappointing that you speak like that over just this much.”

“…….”

“I hold far more evidence regarding Kwon Ki-hyuk’s charges.”

From the things Jung-hyun had been framed for to the things that had not yet been revealed. Individually, they might not be a great threat, but if gathered together, the story would change.

“I assume you wouldn’t want your only heir to go to prison.”

His father’s thick cheeks twitched. After huffing and puffing several times with a face turning red and blue, his father finally spoke.

“…What is it you want?”

It was the first and last time they would negotiate.

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Waaaaah!

A roar that felt like it would burst his eardrums echoed.

It was immediately after Na Dae-il of the HI Tigers had delivered a hard tackle to Shin Ho-jae. With a thud, the impact of Ho-jae hitting the wall caused the barrier to vibrate violently.

The spectators sitting right in front of the barrier stood up with their phones. The puck had already been stolen. Ho-jae muttered a curse through his teeth.

“Shin Ho-jae! What is wrong with you today?”

Upon returning to the bench, Moon Seung-yeol’s reprimand reached him. Ho-jae gasped for air, took off his helmet, and sat on the bench.

“You have too many loose pucks today. Is it because of your shoulder? If you can’t hold out, tell me. I’ll sub you out.”

Ho-jae immediately shook his head.

“No. I’m sorry.”

He felt the gaze of Ji Min-chul sitting next to him. Min-chul was the only teammate who knew about yesterday’s events.

Yesterday, Shin Ho-jae had left the south and returned to Suwon.

Because he needed something to cling to, he had headed straight to the meeting place as soon as he returned home. Min-chul seemed uneasy, but thankfully, he didn’t ask.

He had known his condition had plummeted the moment he woke up today. His shoulder was stiff, and his calves felt heavy, as if someone had attached sandbags to them.

He didn’t even know in what state of mind he was running on the ice. It felt as if he were moving his limbs by instinct alone, his mind completely blank.

As Shin Ho-jae struggled, the Tigers didn’t miss the opportunity and pounced. They conceded two goals in an instant, and the Blue Wolves were pushed around by the Tigers throughout the first period. The momentum that had led them to victory in the third and fourth games had vanished without a trace.

When a game doesn’t go well, even small things that one usually ignores become obstacles. Since the last three of the five final games were played at the home stadiums of the top regular league teams, the fact that they were at the Gangneung Center instead of the familiar Suwon Arena acted as a misfortune. From the stands covered in red Tigers uniforms to the opposing team’s cheering songs echoing constantly, everything was irritating.

“…We’ve relied on Ho-jae too much until now. Ho-jae has already done enough. Now it’s our turn to do well.”

He had expected a reprimand, but the words that came back were unexpected. Ho-jae, still panting as the aftermath of the game lingered, looked at Moon Seung-yeol. Seung-yeol gave Ho-jae’s shoulder a light pat and prepared to sub in.

Seung-yeol, who went in instead of Shin Ho-jae, practically flew across the ice. He aggressively pressed the Tigers players who were subtly trying to kill time, stole the puck, and finally scored the first point to close the gap.

And the second period began.

As soon as it started, Min-chul and Du-min clashed with the Tigers’ twin duo, with whom they had shared a bad blood since the practice games. Whenever Na Dae-il grabbed the puck, the two immediately followed, and whenever Du-min grabbed the puck, the twins followed.

A fierce battle of stealing and reclaiming continued, and after a physical struggle in front of the goal, Du-min succeeded with a tip-shot. By the middle of the second period, it was finally 2:2, a tie.

Among the cheering players, Shin Ho-jae stared blankly at the ice as if he were isolated.

He had had plenty of time to rest. He had returned to Suwon the day before the game. However, he hadn’t slept a wink.

He had never thought of himself as a player influenced by his mental state, but this time, he simply couldn’t help it.

Clearly, until two days ago, he had held Jung-hyun’s hand and fled to the south. He had been willing to abandon his family and the finals to be with him.

The fact that he had returned as if nothing had happened and appeared normally at the stadium felt like a lie even to himself.

It felt strange. Himself, wearing the uniform and holding the stick. Himself, having returned to his teammates and family.

How could he gather back in a single morning the things he had been willing to throw away for one person, as if it had never happened? It felt like a deception.

Others might be different, but Shin Ho-jae was not the type who could flip a switch that quickly.

Since the game didn’t belong to him alone, he tried his best to concentrate, but compared to when his condition was at its peak, he was currently at rock bottom.

Shin Ho-jae shook his head slightly. He was in the middle of the finals. Moreover, it was a crucial 2:2 tie. He had to focus.

“Uh!”

“Seung-yeol hyung!”

Just then, all the players on the bench jumped up and called out to Seung-yeol. Their voices sounded almost like screams. Ho-jae, who stood up a beat late, realized the situation.

Moon Seung-yeol was collapsed in front of the goal. The game stopped, and the medical staff quickly entered the rink with a stretcher. Seung-yeol remained down for a long time, seemingly in pain.

Among the buzzing players, Hyeong-hun explained the situation while clutching his head.

“Ah, those bastards Na Dae-il and Na Myeong-il! Seung-yeol hyung just gave a pass and was running when those two hit him with a dirty check!”

“Uh, Seung-yeol is coming. Hey, are you okay?!”

Seung-yeol was being carried on the stretcher, covering his cheekbone with his hand.

“…I think it’s a cheekbone fracture.”

At someone’s words, a look of alarm flashed in everyone’s eyes.

If his injury was indeed a cheekbone fracture, he would have to sit out the remaining games. With Captain Choi Yong-su already out for the season, if Seung-yeol were to be sidelined as well, they would have to play the remaining games with only 20 players.

For the Blue Wolves, who had no substitute players, the absence of two people was a hole that could not be filled.

Having vacancies in two of the four lines meant that someone would have to enter the depleted lines and play nearly double their usual amount.

They already consumed so much stamina that they could only skate for one minute at a time; if someone had to skate double, the entire team would naturally suffer from overload.

Moreover, the opponent was the HI Tigers. Unlike the Tigers, who had faced the risk of disbandment due to the parent company’s management difficulties, they were the best team in the country, with a solid internal and external structure thanks to the help of a reliable sponsor.

Since it was a team that any player graduating from the college league would want to join, their bench was naturally deep. For them, one or two players being out due to injury would not affect their strength at all. It was a situation where the Blue Wolves were inevitably at a disadvantage.

“Ho-jae!”

Lee Sang-gon called Ho-jae urgently. Snapping back to his senses, he ran over to see the coach and Lee Sang-gon standing with the referee. The referee looked at Ho-jae and nodded.

“Would you like to register player number 86, Shin Ho-jae, as the interim captain?”

115 – Puck Drop