NHL 40

After all, this is a trivial concern compared to the line of problems waiting for Joeon with tickets in hand right now. The hand that had been resting on his chin pulled at his hair.

That’s right. On the weekend, he also had to meet with a real estate agent to solve one of those problems. While he was immersed in work, the concerns he had buried away were all shouting, demanding to be solved.

Money and stability. He knows what the wisest solution is to grasp both at once. Though, if Tyler hadn’t told him, he wouldn’t have even thought of it. Realizing that even the colleagues who seemed devoted to company work were all secretly preparing for or already executing job changes made him feel not guilty, but rather courageous.

However, that comes with another kind of agony. Because he is a person who settles easily, a person who compromises easily.

Changing the way he has lived for over twenty years overnight is by no means an easy task.

For a Joeon like that, the journey of discarding his current fence and finding a new one was neither as simple as it sounds nor something easily solved. Yet, the reason he decided to try a way different from the current one was because he wanted to change. The one who pushed Joeon’s back to make that possible was Dylan.

‘It’s okay. I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘You can do it, too. There’s no one who’s good at something from the start. I practice hundreds of times every day, too.’

‘You won’t get hurt badly even if you fall because you’re wearing protective gear. But if it still hurts, I’ll take care of you.’

‘You’re doing well. Shall we try moving on your own now?’

Recalling the sweet voice lingering in his ears, Joeon, feeling awkward, gulped down his beer. Strangely, his thoughts keep returning to him.

“…Wow. I guess praise really does change a person.”

The game, which had entered the third period with a one-goal lead, saw intense back-and-forth exchanges for the first 15 minutes. Although he was watching the game with his eyes, for some reason, concentration wasn’t easy. It must be because the trivial yet overwhelming troubles that he hadn’t been able to pour out to anyone were staying in a corner of his mind.

Joeon was not a person accustomed to revealing his emotions. It was no different whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. He would worry that the moment he offloaded his feelings onto someone else, he might become a burden to them in some form.

‘Dad, I went to a competition last time…’

‘Sorry, Dad’s busy, so tell Mom.’

‘…Mom is away on a business trip…’

‘Tell the lady who helps around the house, then. Dad has to go on a business trip from now, too. I came to pack my luggage. Oh my, I’m going to be late for my flight. Dad’s leaving.’

…What meaning is there in telling the lady who helps around the house?

For the first time in his life, young Joeon had to display the certificate he won at a national-level competition under the glass on his desk without a chance to show it to anyone. He cleaned the top of his desk neatly every day so that it would be clearly visible. However, there was no one who recognized this.

Every time he tried to talk to his parents because he wanted to be praised or even just to boast, he felt guilty for taking away the time of those busy with work and business trips, so he eventually stopped talking to them.

From the time he had people who valued work more than their family, Joeon grew closer to loneliness and solitude. By the time Joeon had grown enough to take care of himself, he even rarely ran into the lady who came to do the housework.

As a result, he naturally became much better at suppressing things inside than bringing them out. And he surrendered easily. Because, as it had been until now, he would be alone in the future, too.

Pooooo, a horn resembling a ship’s whistle sounded, piercing through the noise inside the bustling pub. On the top of the screen displaying the score, the word ‘GOAL’ shone. Seeing the players in dark blue uniforms gathered together in a cluster celebrating, it seemed someone had scored. Dylan’s face was not among them. It seems today’s highlights were the monopoly of another player. Hats thrown by fans celebrating the hat-trick fell onto the ice, and the resumption of the game was briefly delayed as staff went around to pick them up.

However, since it was already the tail end of the third period, it was safe to say the outcome was decided. Joeon took out his phone to check the schedule for the next game. It was a new habit he had picked up after the New Year began. They would be under the same sky anyway, but he just wanted to know at least where he was.

The next game was also scheduled to be held at the home arena. In schedules like this, there were cases where they would generally only do light training for a day tomorrow, or if they were lucky, get a day off.

The opposing team brought in the goalie and replaced the remaining player spots with attackers to chase the score at the last minute and gave it their all, but it merely opened the door for Dylan’s teammate to easily toss the puck into the empty net—a strategy of pulling the goalie and adding an attacker when there is not much time left until the end of the game.

Dylan’s team leisurely earned the winning points. Soon, the game-ending buzzer sounded, and the players lined up in a row, tapping their helmets against the goalie’s to offer greetings for their hard work.

“Would you like another glass?”

The bartender, who had approached Joeon, who had by now emptied his beer glass to the bottom, asked. Joeon smacked his lips, deliberated, and then shook his head. It’s too late to enjoy another drink. There’s no game left to watch, and he had to allot at least 20 minutes to get home from here.

“I’m fine. I’ll pay.”

Having finished paying, Joeon put on his coat, stepped outside, looked up at the pitch-black sky, and then took out his phone. His footsteps, having sent a single short message, stepped crunchily on the ground covered in frost and thin ice. His retreating figure disappeared in a direction completely different from the way to the subway station.

🏒🥅

After exchanging congratulations and encouragement for finishing the exhausting 60-minute game with a victory, the players shared that joy with the audience as well. Young baby spectators, who had not yet been walking long enough to run, let alone skate, were riding on their parents’ shoulders wearing oversized uniforms and waved their two hands in the air, looking happy.

It was fortunate that the game ended earlier than usual, if only for them. Game time is bound to be long if there are frequent penalties or it goes into overtime, but today, it was thanks to both teams playing a clean game.

The spot for the player who contributed the most naturally went to Kevin, the marquee attacker who accumulated the most points with a hat-trick. Dylan, who was on a different line from him, stopped at accumulating a small amount of points with only one assist.

Ever since he officially debuted in the highest-level league at a young age, just past twenty, he had raised his salary by showing consistent results for several years, but ever since he suffered an injury, there had been somewhat of a fluctuation, so achievements like scoring in several consecutive games were not properly continuing.

It is premature to call it a slump. However, it was certain that he was in a state where he could not properly meet the expectations of the head coach. His synergy with his line mates also creaked often. Since the game cannot be played alone, and it is difficult for it to lead to scoring if you are not in sync with your line mates, it was natural that a slump and a lack of teamwork were connected.

Still, relieved by the fact that he had accumulated winning points for another game, he passed through the hallway and headed toward the locker room. Exciting music celebrating the victory flowed from inside. Staff holding phones, cameras from broadcasting stations, etc. There were many eyes watching. Dylan revealed his neat teeth and let a smile flow for the camera. The intense gaze of Emily, the reporter standing next to him, followed his face, but since there were many players who scored more points than Dylan today, there was no chance for an interview.

As soon as he handed his stick and gloves to the staff and entered the locker room, players who were stripping off their uniform tops caught his eye. Dylan also followed them, unfastening all the frustrating pads that bound his body, and threw his sweat-soaked innerwear and uniform into the laundry cart. Right next to him, Jackson, Dylan’s line mate, was in the middle of showing off a racy dance, spinning his uniform in the air while half-naked and rotating his pelvis obscenely. The atmosphere inside the locker room heated up.

“Thanks for all your hard work, everyone, and thank you for showing a good game today. We’ve been busy because of the game schedule, so let’s take a day off tomorrow and see you at the morning practice the day after.”