NHL 9

The scenery, where a horse-drawn carriage would fit in better than a car, and where reddish incandescent bulbs or candles would be more suitable than LED lights, preserved the atmosphere of 150 years ago, stimulating a nostalgia for a past he had never actually experienced.

Perhaps because it was also a famous tourist spot, the faces of the employees who had come to visit the Distillery Historic District for the occasion were all filled with anticipation.

“Is there anyone who doesn’t know the way? Let’s go together so we don’t get lost.”

Peter, the team leader, said as he made eye contact with each person. Joeon was among them, and he could feel an unnecessary worry in Peter’s sharp eyes with their deep double eyelids. He was probably worried someone might get lost and be late.

“I know the way. I won’t get on the wrong bus this year.”

Joeon, who had been late last year because he took the wrong bus, inadvertently snapped back, emphasizing the fact that he hadn’t gotten lost, and Peter let out his characteristic hearty laugh that made him seem like a good-natured person.

“As long as John knows, our team has no problems. Let’s get going.”

Since it was rare for someone living in Toronto to have never been to the Distillery District, the employees hurried on their own without waiting for anyone. The Christmas Market, opening right in front of the event venue, was nearing the time when it would be crowded with people. Their interest was more focused on seeing the market than on the town hall meeting organized by the company.

The Christmas Market, which begins around the beginning of winter near the end of November and runs until the end of the year, required a purchased ticket for visits on weekend evenings, including Fridays, but was open for free on other weekdays. It was one of the events that was too good to miss, not just for tourists but for citizens as well.

A D-day countdown electronic sign for Christmas was set up in the main alley, and a giant tree was erected in the square with the clock tower. After sunset when the lights came on, it would be bustling with people trying to take pictures, so much so that there was no room to stand.

People trying to escape the throng of people by taking refuge in the spiderweb-like alleys would often find themselves swept along until they were pushed to a quiet alley at the edge of the market.

Despite this, nearly a million visitors came here every year. It was an effort to overcome the desolation and gloom of the endless Canadian winter with the vitality of a festival.

Joeon had also visited a few times, so he remembered the way clearly. If you went through Union Station and out the main entrance, then went east for one block, there was a bus stop, and a bus that went near the Distillery District passed by there. If not that, there was also the option of walking to King Street and taking the streetcar.

Instead of being picky about the route, Joeon decided to be swept along by his colleagues this year. His colleagues chose to walk through the underground PATH to King Street and take the streetcar.

The underground passageway was packed with various shops, including clothing stores, accessory shops, and mobile carrier agencies. Joeon, who had been scanning a poster advertising a sale in eye-catching red letters with a soulless gaze, suddenly stopped in his tracks.

In front of a store for a certain mobile carrier, widely known as one of the hockey team’s sponsors, a poster large enough to take up an entire window was displayed, and on it was a very familiar face.

Tyler, who had keenly noticed Joeon falling behind the group, quietly came to stand beside him. When he raised his head at the presence, Tyler stroked the mustache he had been painstakingly growing since autumn, like an immortal, and asked.

“Hmm, Dylan McClain. He’s an indispensable player for the Polar Bears.”

“Is he that great?”

“Of course. Kevin Matt holds a strong position on the first line, but Dylan is eagerly eyeing that spot. Fans even say there’s not much difference between the first and second lines, and in my opinion, they’re right. The power plays when those two play together are really…. Whoo! The synergy is incredible. I wish they’d play on the same line.”

“Really?”

“For reference, they place the more skilled forwards on the first line. So even though they constantly switch lines during a game, the first-line players have more ice time. And that’s when a lot of goals are scored.”

Joeon didn’t properly understand even half of what Tyler was saying, but he definitely understood that Dylan was a great player. Coming from him, who had played hockey for a long time, it was reliable.

“Dylan’s strength is that he’s still quite young. But his value has skyrocketed in just a few years since his debut, so considering his potential, it’s certain that he’ll become a player who will make his mark in the history of the Polar Bears, no, the NHL.”

“His value… has it gone up that much?”

It was a sensitive issue to ignore, so he asked again cautiously. Tyler’s gaze, having seen through his worldly curiosity, held a hint of teasing laughter.

“Oh, yes. He earns an amount of money that people like us could never touch in our lifetime unless we won the lottery.”

Tyler, wiggling his eyebrows slickly, turned to catch up with the group that was getting further away. Then he turned his head back toward Joeon and added a word.

“Ah, and that’s per year.”

Although a person’s true worth cannot be measured in money, every moment a player is on the field is blatantly quantified under the name of statistics and even ranked. And this is connected to the value of their annual salary. More importantly, that salary is all publicly disclosed. It was obvious what the magnitude of criticism would be for a player deemed not worth their price tag.

No matter how much the labor market operates on meritocracy and performance-based principles, a certain degree of flexibility always exists, but the world of professional athletes was not like that.

Joeon couldn’t even begin to fathom how heavy the burden must have been to survive in that fierce world where even their performance from their childhood is scrutinized, and to rise to become a key starting member.

However, for someone who had survived in a brutal jungle, Dylan seemed pure and innocent. Like a child who simply loves to roam freely on the ice. Recalling Dylan’s blue eyes that curved gently and were tinged with a warm light, a faint smile formed on Joeon’s face. Just then, a slight vibration came from his pocket.

On the screen was a name he had not expected at all. It was the person who had only left a perfunctory “I’ll call you” and hadn’t followed through even once in the past few days.

「Hi」

To Dylan, who had sent just that one word, he sent the same reply, 「Hi」. He must have been looking at his screen too, because an indicator that he was typing a reply appeared immediately.

「How have you been?」

「So-so. How have you been, Dylan?」

「Me too, so-so.」

「What were you doing?」

「Thinking of you.」

Joeon sent the reply truthfully without thinking, then yelled, “You idiot!” and added a follow-up.

「I saw you on my way home from work」

「Where are you now?」

With no other choice, Joeon turned back the way he had just come, took a picture of the poster, and sent it to Dylan.

「I’m on my way to the Distillery District now.」

“John! Tyler! Don’t get lost!”

From a distance, Angie called out to the two of them. She seemed worried they might fall behind.

“Coming!”

“The streetcar arrives in one minute!”

“Oh, shoot. Let’s run!”

Joeon and Tyler, who had been dawdling, quickened their pace and rejoined the group. Just as they exited the underground passage and went up to King Street, the crosswalk light changed, so they had to hurry across the street and board the streetcar.

“We almost missed it.”

“Perfect timing, wasn’t it?”

“It was perfect. Though I wouldn’t want to experience it twice. My body feels heavy these days, I hate running.”

Joeon, huddled together with his colleagues in one car, was so absorbed in their idle chat that he didn’t even notice his phone ringing in his pocket.

By the time he checked and saw the missed call, he had already entered the event venue. Joeon considered leaving him a message, but seeing that there were no messages after the missed call, he put his phone back into his coat pocket.

“One coat and one bag. Number 58.”

“Thank you.”

Joeon received a small number tag from the coatroom staff at the venue entrance. As he turned away, he rubbed his forearm with his palm.

The event hall seemed to have the heaters on full blast, but it was still filled with a chilly air. This was because the high ceilings of the loft-style building prevented the warmth from spreading completely. The stark and cold interior, which made it difficult to expect the coziness of a hotel banquet hall, made one feel the chill visually.

Looking up at the dizzying height, Joeon glanced around to find a seat. Fortunately, his team members were gathered together not far away.

“See, our team members are all so smart. They chose the table farthest from the entrance.”

“It feels just as cold.”

“Still, it’s better than the entrance. Isn’t it?”

Peter praised his team members and took the seat opposite Joeon. A look of awkwardness flickered across Joeon’s face, but changing seats so suddenly would seem like he was blatantly avoiding him, so he had no choice but to sit facing Peter.

It wasn’t that he disliked or felt uncomfortable around him. It was just that dealing with a boss was a difficult task in any country.

Shortly after nearly two hundred head office employees had all taken their seats, the event began on time. The executives came out in order and began to present the year’s performance.

“As you can see on the screen, this year’s performance exceeded the target set last year by more than 3.5%, as shown in the graph. This is all thanks to your hard work. Of course, some areas remained stagnant. However….”

Most of the materials presented by the executives had been prepared by Joeon’s department, which was in charge of financial management. The supplementary explanations were not much different from what his team members had written. Secretly yawning while listening to the rather boring presentation, Joeon belatedly remembered his phone in his coat pocket.

Why had Dylan called him earlier? He suddenly wanted a clear answer to that question. He hadn’t sent a single message in all the days that had passed.

At the end of the long and boring relay of presentations by the executives, the host returned and took the microphone again.

“Now, it’s about time we prepared for dinner. They say they need to set the tables. So, we would like to take a 30-minute break. We need you to vacate the event hall for a smooth preparation. We would appreciate it if you could look around the Christmas Market during that time and re-enter in 30 minutes when the dinner preparations are complete. For your information, there’s a snowstorm outside, so don’t forget to check your coats.”

At his playful last words, people’s faces turned pale. Kicking people out into a snowy winter night. But it seemed unavoidable for the event preparation.

“The exit is this way. Please follow me. Please note that it’s different from the entrance door.”

Following the guidance of the event staff, the people who went out through the side door were thrown into the middle of the Christmas Market. Joeon looked up at the pure white crystals that had begun to pour from the pitch-black night sky.

Fluffy snowflakes were piling up on the giant tree in the center of the square. Despite the bad weather, the streets were so crowded with people who had gathered to take pictures that there was no time to feel the cold.

Joeon took a step back from the crowd and entered a quiet back alley where a construction sign was posted. As soon as he leaned against the dark red brick building and took out his phone, he immediately tried calling Dylan. The ringing went on for a long time, but Dylan didn’t answer.

Just as he was about to hang up, thinking the timing might be off, the ringing stopped abruptly. After checking the screen once, Joeon saw the connected indicator and quickly put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

—Joeon?

“How have you been?”

—Okay. You?

Dylan asked back with a somewhat unenthusiastic attitude. Wondering if he was busy, Joeon quickly replied. He thought it would be best to apologize quickly.