NHL 74

However, in the end, he did nothing. He realized that at some point, he had no remaining desire to do so. He no longer wanted to expend any effort to change anything.

Was everything just a cornerstone of this fated return?

On the phone screen he picked up again, the message window remained.

「Who is playing with their phone instead of focusing on training?」

「(Hand)(Hand)(Hand)」

「Are you home?」

「At the library.」

Soon, a small heart attached itself beneath Joeon’s message. A reaction like this was something anyone could give to anyone. Even to a ‘friend.’

Joeon tried hard not to misunderstand it, and not wanting to keep him for long, he greeted him briefly.

「Good luck with the game today.」

“Worry about yourself.”

The moment Joeon grumbled to himself and went to put the phone down, a heart appeared again. Staring at the phone for a long time, Joeon eventually turned the screen, which had gone pitch black, face down and turned his head back to the monitor.

Beyond it, he could see a group of young students entering the library with excited steps. A mix of multinational students who looked to be in their early twenties. In all likelihood, they were students attending a language academy.

Even though they were carrying quite heavy binders filled with textbooks, their steps looked light. They had happy, joyful expressions with no sense of burden regarding homework or studying.

Had there been such a moment for him? Joeon reflected quietly. At first, he didn’t worry about money at all because he had his parents’ support. Then, as he became an adult, at some point, he took out student loans without even asking his parents and handled the tuition himself.

One thing was certain: the pressure that crushed Joeon’s shoulders had grown to an unbearable level from that year on. It wasn’t as if he had been sloppy with his studies before that, but from the moment he achieved complete independence, he shouldered the responsibility that followed every choice he made all on his own.

To pay off his debt, he had no choice but to choose a path with good job prospects even if it didn’t fit his aptitude, and he had no choice but to push through and finish given tasks even without passion.

How much of his own will had been embedded in that?

In the end, he was the one who chose it, knowing that a result like the current one would follow. A choice made entirely by his own will.

He had felt regret, and he had agonized. Would it be better to look for a different path by finding his aptitude even now?

But it was true that the fear of a new challenge was bone-deep. It was equally true that it didn’t guarantee happiness.

Fortunately, humans are adaptive animals. Even though the work he had been doing so far was uninteresting, because it was at least more familiar and bearable than it was at the beginning, he had reached a point where he could endure living the rest of his life doing uninteresting work.

Joeon made the same choice again. And he found a position he could apply for.

This choice could be overturned again at any time. If he made up his mind, he could quit his job and go down a different path at any time. As Dylan said, the initiative in his life had already shifted to him.

However, that moment of crucial decision was not now. Depending on one’s perspective, it could look foolish or stubborn, but that was his nature, which could not be undone.

If uninteresting work didn’t bring him happiness and joy, couldn’t he fill it with something else? He just convinced himself of that.

Leaving behind the group of students who burst into laughter over some joke they shared, Joeon fixed his resume again.

A light smile hung on his relaxed lips. As if someone’s joy had become contagious.

And at the same time.

“Dylan. We’re going to play soccer, let’s go.”

“Just a second.”

Dylan, who was stretching and loosening up his body, signaled appropriately to Jackson. Although he was in a posture to loosen his muscles, his phone was still in his hand.

It had been several days since they maintained a relationship as friends, even if it was patch-work.

Both Joeon and Dylan were getting used to their new housemate. If there was a hopeful aspect, it was that Joeon had accepted his friend request.

Now, Dylan could proudly see the social media account Joeon had revived at his request, press the heart, and leave comments.

He was someone who barely used social media himself after receiving many strange messages as he rose to fame after his professional debut, but he clicked on the photos Joeon uploaded—even if they were from years ago—time and time again, and even zoomed in on them.

Like someone who had boarded a time machine and returned to the past, just thinking about and imagining the young Joeon made him feel, even as an illusion, that he had known the Joeon of the past for a long time.

‘If we had attended the same school….’

Looking at the photo of the young-looking, fresh-faced Joeon, Dylan fell into a delusion all by himself.

In his school days, Joeon would have clearly been quiet in class as well. He would have kept his mouth shut throughout class, scribbling down what the teacher said or keeping his head buried in a book.

If it were him, he would have been curious about his voice, so he would have said hello and cracked lame jokes while passing by, even though they weren’t close.

‘What did you do over the holidays?’ 

‘Just rested….’ 

‘Didn’t you go play somewhere with your family?’

Asking insensitive questions like that to a lonely international student who had come to this land all alone.

‘…Yeah.’ 

‘Those glasses suit you well. Did you get new ones?’ 

‘No, I’ve been wearing these for years….’

He would even make mistakes like that. Glasses, glasses, huh…. If it were Joeon, even wearing glasses would look quite sexy.

‘Oh, really? By the way, do you have a sport you like? If you don’t have any separate activities, do you want to play hockey together?’ ‘No. I’m not good at sports….’

Dylan furrowed his brows. If it were like this, there would never be any progress for a lifetime.

If it were a Dylan who was more mischievous than he was now, he might have dragged him to the basketball court by force, using the excuse of teaching him sports in the end. Throwing a large, heavy basketball that Joeon couldn’t even catch in one hand, without hesitation.

Then he would have accidentally hit his body or head, and Joeon, who had sat down after being hit by a hard ball out of nowhere, would have shut his mouth tight as if he were angry and gone away, leaving him behind, saying he would just go in.

It would be a blessing if he didn’t fly a puck at him, telling him to try receiving a backhand pass. If he did that, Joeon would definitely have refused to go to school, claiming the hockey team captain was bullying him. In the worst case, he would have given up on his studies abroad and returned to his country.

Dylan, who had been spinning wild fantasies alone while looking at Joeon’s Instagram, shook his head. No matter how much he ran the simulation, only scenarios of him giving up on his studies halfway through emerged.

Because the young Dylan McClain was a self-centered guy, bundled with curiosity, who would roam around High Park, catch damselflies, and rip their wings off for fun without feeling much guilt.

The current self, who was more understanding and mature than back then, was better suited for Joeon.

“What are you looking at? Stop with the phone and let’s go loosen up.”

Seeing Jackson approach, Dylan organized his spot and put his phone in the locker.

The regular season, entering the second half, had reached a crucial phase. As the number of remaining games decreased and the rankings were almost confirmed, the teams that would go to the playoffs had been decided. However, the problem of ‘where’ and from how advantageous a position they would play remained.

With such an important turning point ahead, a slight tension was flowing through the team. The fighting spirit was lingering in Dylan’s eyes, his concentration sharpened.

The players, who had loosened up by playing soccer in a narrow space, changed into their uniforms and stepped into the ice rink, which was still as cold as midwinter.

Winter was coming to an end.

🏒🥅

It was late evening when he returned after finishing the game. The blackened sky had swallowed everything to the point where traces of the sunset could not be found, and only clouds faintly revealing their shapes clashed in the sky, unmixed like water and oil.

Dylan was exhausted.