#57

It was while Ho-jae was rubbing the nape of his neck, searching through his memories. His mother called out to him in a cautious voice.

“Oh, Ho-jae…. The bill for your father’s hospital expenses came. I’ve tried to save up as much as I could, but it’s still a bit short.”

“How much is it?”

“About ten million won…. Is it possible for you to get an advance on your salary?”

Ho-jae gave a short smile and patted his mother’s back once. It was to tell her not to worry.

“It should be possible. I saw another teammate do that before.”

“Really? Then that’s such a relief. I’m sorry to ask this of you.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about the hospital bills. We decided to stay with Dad a little longer, didn’t we?”

With a look of relief, his mother smiled and stroked Ho-jae’s arm.

“I’m so glad I have you, Ho-jae. Yeon-jae and I live for you.”

Ho-jae nodded slowly.

On the way home alone, he took the bus. The lit-up signs outside the window flashed by quickly. Ho-jae fixed his vacant gaze on the scenery outside.

The part about the salary advance was a lie. He intended to ask Du-min or Min-chul if he could borrow the money.

The life-support system his father was hooked up to cost a lot of money every single day. However, he didn’t want to let his father go just because of money.

The longer his father lay there, the more guilt and pressure seemed to pile up for some reason.

The guilt of carrying on with his daily life while leaving his father like that, and the pressure that he must be the one his family could lean on.

His eyes felt dry. Ho-jae rubbed his eyes. He had been sleeping less lately.

How long could he keep his father hanging on, would he suddenly leave them today, and if so, would he be able to properly support the family left behind? There was too much to think about.

Music he used to enjoy listening to flowed from the earphones he wore out of habit. It was music he had listened to a lot while he was in Canada.

Since music is a tool that allows one to travel through time easily, it momentarily transported Ho-jae back to a time four years ago.

Once, on a bus returning from an away game. With a sleeping teammate beside him, Shin Ho-jae had been staring at his phone screen.

It was because a short reflection was always posted on the ’86’ account after a game, and he wanted to see it.

At the time, he wasn’t as fluent in English as he was now, and since he viewed his teammates as competitors, he tended to keep his words to a minimum. Because it was also difficult to express his regrets to his family and friends in Korea, the SNS and the ’86’ account were like the only places of solace for Ho-jae back then.

Lately, those memories have been coming back often.

Perhaps it was because his current self needed an outlet to pour things into, just like back then.

The music transitioned to a recent song. The past playing in his head snapped shut, and the flow of his thoughts naturally reached someone.

‘CEO Jung-hyun isn’t a bad person. Even when he set up the academy for me, he was very cautious and told me not to tell you…’

He imagined the man who, even after being told he was disgusting, introduced Shin Yeon-jae to the academy and asked him not to mention that he had helped.

If it had been him a while ago, he would have jumped in denial, calling it an impossible thought, but for some reason, the imagination felt very natural.

He hadn’t seen Kwon Jung-hyun since the away game.

It was because Jung-hyun had postponed all their meetings, saying he was busy with work for the time being. Since Ho-jae had neither the right nor the reason to refuse his wishes, he had no choice but to follow silently.

Ho-jae unconsciously frowned. He had accidentally had a very awkward thought.

Wanting to see someone’s face. What a ridiculous thought.

* * *

A month had passed since his father was admitted to the intensive care unit. The Asia League had already entered its midpoint, and the season had turned to winter.

Today, there was a home game against Russia’s Sakhalin Lets-Sum.

The Blue Wolves’ league ranking was 3rd out of 8 teams. HI Tigers and Red Falcon Hokkaido were ahead of them, and the 4th place Sakhalin Lets-Sum was chasing closely behind.

Being a Russian club, they differed in physique from the East Asian players, and because of their characteristically rough defensive style, they were by no means an easy opponent.

“Those guys were glaring at Alexei like crazy, I’m telling you.”

It was while they were heading to the locker room after finishing the pre-game warm-up. Yuk Du-min spoke to Min-chul in an excited tone.

“Why?”

“Dong-ju hyung said Alexei used to be with Lets-Sum. Apparently, he left on bad terms or something.”

Since the training camp, Ahn Dong-ju and Alexei had become completely close. He heard that the four of them—including Ahn Dong-ju’s girlfriend and Alexei’s wife—had even met separately a few times.

“Eh, no way. Would they really tackle a goalie?”

“Right? You don’t even touch a goalie by mistake. Oh, there’s Alexei. Hey! Are you okay?!”

Alexei, wearing his goalie gear, waddled over and gave a thumbs-up at Du-min’s words. Contrary to Du-min’s worry, he didn’t seem to care much.

However, the incident happened in the 1st period.

In a situation where the Lets-Sum players were rebounding in front of the goal, they finally delivered a body check to the guardian of the net.

While ice hockey is a sport where physical contact is allowed, it is an unwritten rule that the goalie is an exception in any situation. In other words, touching the goalie was no different from declaring war on the opposing team.

Everyone on the bench jumped up, and Ahn Dong-ju was the first to rush out, swearing.

As other players joined in one by one, the Lets-Sum players, not to be outdone, also leaped from the bench and onto the rink.

It was a bench-clearing brawl. The overheated tension showed no sign of cooling down easily. The cheers of the crowd, the urgent whistles of the referees, the shouting of the players.

Shin Ho-jae went out a bit late with the coaches to break up the players. Whenever he saw the grey and orange uniforms of Lets-Sum, he unconditionally tore them away and pushed them back.

Then, someone’s fist flew toward his face. With a dull pain, his jaw snapped to the side. And when he lifted his head again, Shin Ho-jae’s gaze had changed.

Shin Ho-jae shoved a nearby player with a thud. Harsh curses followed. He slammed his shoulder into a heavy opponent and swung his fist wide.

As if he were wearing noise-canceling headphones, the chaotic sounds around him were blocked out, and only the sound of his own breathing reached his ears.

Haa, haa, ha.

Shin Ho-jae continued to push through the players in front of him, digging deeper inside. He felt as if the guilt and pressure that had found no place to vent were being peeled away layer by layer. He simply couldn’t stop.

Someone grabbed Shin Ho-jae’s jersey. Ho-jae swung his arm violently to shake it off.

At that moment, he felt a sudden, dull impact to his head. His head, encased in the helmet, rang with a thud, and his body tilted to the side.

Waaaaah!

Pweeet—! Pweet! Pweet!

“Shin Ho-jae!”

“Ho-jae hyung!”

In that instant, the surrounding noise rushed back all at once. It was so loud he wanted to cover his ears.

Thump!

The moment his body fell onto the rink, his vision went black.

* * *

Shin Ho-jae slowly opened his eyes.

In his blurred vision, he saw a familiar ceiling pattern. Where am I….

Ah, the game. He was definitely in the middle of a game.

“You shouldn’t move suddenly.”

As he reflexively tried to bolt upright, someone pressed firmly on his chest.

“…How is your head? Are you dizzy?”

Following the hand resting on his chest, he slowly lifted his eyes and saw a face.

It was Kwon Jung-hyun. A face he hadn’t seen in a truly long time.

Ho-jae unconsciously stared blankly at his face. It was a shadowed expression, as if filled with worry.

A question mark, as if made of fog, formed and then scattered in Ho-jae’s mind. He couldn’t easily recall why the man was making such a face.

“This is the medical room within the club. You were brought here during the game, Ho-jae.”

“The game….”

“The game is over. We lost 2 to 4. It ended about two hours ago.”

“…….”

“I’m told you climbed onto the stretcher yourself and lay down on the bed yourself when you arrived here. Do you remember?”

This was news to him.

He remembered entering today’s game, but it was as if someone had cut that specific part out with scissors; he had no memory of it. As he simply frowned, Jung-hyun let out a small sigh.

“The team doctor says it’s a concussion. He said there would be partial memory loss, and it seems he was right.”

58 – Puck Drop