NHL 5

“The comparative analysis between the budget and the current situation has been updated. I’ve also finished the comments on the annual forecast analysis. If you could each finish your respective parts and save them in the shared folder, I’ll revise them all at once.”

“Good. Olivia?”

“I’m currently waiting for the sales team’s monthly analysis data. They said they would send it by this afternoon. I think we just need to reflect that data in our file.”

“Lisa?”

Peter called out each person’s name and noted their progress in his notebook. Meanwhile, Joeon stared blankly at his empty notepad.

Yesterday, he hadn’t been able to focus on his work at all, as if the chair he usually sat in just fine had suddenly become uncomfortable, but he had only realized the reason this morning. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror while drying off after his shower, he had discovered a bruise on his buttock.

It was a bruise from the day he went skating with Dylan and fell on his butt—after having fallen in such an unsightly way, burying his forehead between someone else’s crotch.

“Good. It looks like it’s almost finished. Since we’ll have free time once we wrap this up, let’s just get it over with.”

Peter stood up from his seat with a relieved expression. Since the final report for next year’s budget had already been submitted, all that remained for December was to reflect last month’s settlement statements. Even without waiting until Christmas, by the third week, the company would be empty with people away on vacation. This is because nobody wants to work at the end of the year. The season has returned where the person assigning the work is the one who gets cursed at.

Furthermore, this year, with Christmas followed by Boxing Day falling over the weekend, Monday and Tuesday were designated as substitute holidays, so many had taken long vacations until New Year’s Day, which was a week later. Everyone had plans to go on trips with their families or leave for their vacation homes.

The only people coming into the office were a minority of singles, including Joeon. People who have no children, no partners, or no money to go on vacation.

Joeon, who falls into all three categories, actually preferred coming to the office during this period. Not only is there no one to rush him if he works loosely, but because it looks like he is working hard on days when others are resting, executives often buy snacks to appreciate their hard work. Then, there was no need to go out for lunch.

Sitting in a silent office where the desks were empty here and there like missing teeth, with pizza or bread in his mouth, and chatting with like-minded young employees, he often felt like he was in a university library, not a company. Many young employees, including Joeon, who were scheduled to come to work were looking forward to such a year-end again this year.

Joeon, who had sauntered into the breakroom, took out a mug. He stood in front of the all-in-one machine that makes everything from coffee to black tea as long as you insert the package. Although the cleanliness was somewhat questionable, it was one of the benefits that would be a shame to lose if it weren’t there.

His hand, which had been wandering in front of the machine, naturally chose lemon tea. Usually, he enjoyed drinking coffee packages with the logos of famous cafe chains, but whenever winter came, he enjoyed lemon tea with several packets of sugar torn open and poured in. Only then did it taste similar to citron tea.

Perhaps because there were few people in the company who knew how to drink this good stuff, the drawer was always full of lemon tea packages.

He placed the mug under the water spout, inserted the package, and pressed the button, and the machine started running with a noisy sound.

While waiting for it, Joeon took out his phone out of habit. When he entered the gallery, the photo of the night view of the CN Tower taken at the ice rink caught his eye at the very top. It was a photo he had taken in a rush of just the background because he felt disappointed when the company people suggested going to dinner after skating with Dylan.

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to ask Dylan to take a photo together. He was worried he might offend him.

From his extroverted personality, Joeon had vaguely sensed that he wasn’t the type to be sensitive over a simple request for a photo, but because of his own timid nature, he hesitated and ended up not doing it.

Even if, by some chance, Joeon had pushed actively and succeeded in taking the photo, imagining two grown men sticking together also seemed quite awkward. Given these circumstances, asking for contact information was even more out of the question.

After skating a few more laps with him, he repeated his thanks several times with a look of regret, and the last thing they did was bump fists to say goodbye. It was a connection that had miraculously met by chance and passed by like that.

Although Dylan didn’t mention it directly, it seemed he had helped Joeon because he mistook him for a young student. This was because, while spinning around on the ice, he had asked about Joeon’s company several times. What kind of work he did, how long he had been working, and other peripheral things like that.

It is a technique to infer age through indirect information without asking directly. Because he was often mistaken for a teenager even when wearing just a hoodie and jeans, Joeon answered his questions faithfully.

Unlike him, Joeon asked Dylan nothing. It was because he was worried that prying into personal matters might be rude, but just before they parted ways, Dylan asked a significant question.

“John doesn’t seem to have anything to ask me. It feels like only I’m asking questions.”

At the question that sounded almost cold, Joeon just mumbled with an awkward expression. It was because he felt as though his true nature—of always compromising and never digging deep into anything—had been starkly exposed.

In a society where proactivity is a requirement, not an option, displaying sociability that went beyond his natural foundation was an incredibly difficult task for Joeon. Like most others, Joeon often ended up compromising and stepping back at a reasonable level.

The sharpness with which he pierced through the inner conflict that had been dragging on for years in an unfamiliar environment at their first meeting resembled the blue eyes of an Arctic wolf that has spotted its prey on a pure white glacier and begun the hunt.

After instinctively and sharply hitting the bullseye, he gives a light, eye-smiling look as if it were nothing. Like the aurora waving like curtains in the polar regions every night, a deep emerald green lingered in his irises. Joeon had been mesmerized by it for a brief moment.

“Hi, John. Can I use the machine?”

A thin, soft voice came from the side. As he turned his head, Angela stood there with a bright expression, her eyebrows raised, holding a mug.

“Ah, sorry.”

Joeon’s mug, placed under the machine, was filled to the brim with hot tea wafting with the scent of lemon. As he took it and hurried out of the breakroom, he could see the snowflakes that had started to swirl outside the window again as he glanced past it.

By the time half of the afternoon work hours had passed, the settlement data was finalized. A team meeting was immediately convened, and after reviewing the final results, they received permission to leave work early. Even so, it was only a departure 30 minutes earlier than usual.

Feeling it was a shame to return straight home, Joeon, after a short deliberation, began to walk along the underground passage connected to the company’s basement. The underground passage, which spreads like a spiderweb in the core southern downtown area with Union Station—the hub of Ontario where all trains, buses, and public transportation connecting city to city stop—as its center, was a structure that closely connected several buildings.

It is one of the routes where one can move safely and warmly to the subway station on days with severe blizzards like today, and it had everything from cafes and chocolate specialty stores to clothing stores and drugstores. The retail shops all had ‘Sale’ posters plastered across their glass windows, tempting the employees getting off work.

At this time of year, everyone is busy dealing with inventory. Even Joeon, who had no interest in shopping because he lacked material desire, couldn’t help but have his eyes drawn to the number 50%.

However, he soon gathered his wits and walked forward. He was of a breed far from those who are lured by such numbers and make impulsive purchases. If he had money like that, he would buy a lottery ticket.

Just in time, a small convenience store caught his eye, and the red numbers on the electronic display board were showing ’70’. It meant that this week’s prize money had soared to 70 million dollars.

Because people were lined up long in front of it, Joeon also purchased one line of lottery tickets with numbers he had selected with all his heart. And as he walked aimlessly again, his footsteps had already reached the Eaton Centre shopping mall.