A Mother's Heart and the Captain's Shadow
Cora had always known the weight in her mother's voice better than anyone, yet she kept every emotion locked behind a careful smile. Even now, the mere thought of figure skating still drove a dagger straight into her heart.
Ever since she had quit, Cora refused to watch any videos or news about the sport. Watching her junior rivals soar to glory while she stood still was enough to make her feel both sad and bitterly envious.
Nothing in the world was more painful than watching someone else live the dream you had lost.
Only after hearing Cora's gentle words did her mother manage a small, wry smile.
"I understand. Anyway, make sure you eat well. Oh, right. Want me to send some side dishes? If your roommate hates the smell, I'll send something without it. Yeah, I'll send some persimmons. White people like them too."
"...It's fine. Just send those, then."
"I got it. I'll pick out the tastiest things to send. Remember to eat the red ginseng sticks and goji berry powder Mom sent last time. When you finish them, I'll send more. Deal?"
"This cafeteria food is really good."
"Is it as good as Mom's cooking?"
"Don't worry about me. Just take care of your own health."
"Mm-hmm. I love you, my daughter Suhyeon."
"I love you too! Mom, I have to go study now."
"Yeah. I'll call again."
After hanging up, Cora let out a long sigh and peeled off her hoodie. She still didn't know why her heart felt so restless today.
Her mother was kind.
Cora loved that kindness more than anyone, yet she had no desire to live the same kind of life.
She had been the one who was taken advantage of and used. Watching that happen had taught her early on that "nice" was a luxury reserved for the woman at the bottom of the food chain in the prey chain.
It was only a mask you wore when claws were hidden.
***
After the call, Cora returned to the pub's main hall. Carlson sat there holding Tristan's watch with a serious expression.
Their eyes met. He asked.
"Cora, what is this?"
"The thing I told you about last time. The Reaper captain left it as collateral while requesting credit."
"God... It's a genuine Patek Philippe, isn't it? If we lose it, they could sue us for compensation. Cora, no matter what, you must never accept something like this, even if you have to put the debt on the books."
"...I'm sorry. But the guy himself said he would sell it if things got bad."
"That's not happening. It's too expensive to dispose of lightly. Take it back right now."
"Haa... Okay. I'm sorry, I really didn't know."
"It's fine. Don't worry too much."
As Cora winced, an odd smile tugged at the corner of Carlson's mouth.
"Well, maybe the Reaper captain is waiting for you to come find him."
"...Why?"
"When a guy hands his watch to a girl... Ah, never mind. It's nothing."
Carlson crossed his arms and chuckled. Watching him, Cora sighed deeply inside.
'It's not like that, Mr. Carlson. You don't know, but I sent him a text full of ice.'
***
After her shift ended, Cora tucked the watch into her bag and headed for the campus ice rink.
It was officially called the **Lockwood Arena**, the Reapers' private training ice.
According to what she had heard during freshman orientation, this was the first officially regulated hockey rink in the United States, built 130 years ago.
The great-great-grandfather of Chatsworth University's founder, in other words, one of Tristan's ancestors, was among the pioneers of American hockey.
Now fully renovated with the latest equipment, the building itself still symbolized Chatsworth's long hockey history.
Carlson had said the Reapers usually held regular practice around this time in the afternoon.
So she planned to catch Tristan before practice, demand payment for the debt, and hand back the burdensome watch at once.
She had checked the price online earlier; it was over fifty thousand dollars.
Cora's hands trembled at the thought. Fifty thousand dollars was an amount she had never even touched in her life.
'What if I lose something so expensive... I don't even want to imagine.'
As she crossed the parking lot toward the arena entrance, a sleek black Porsche roared toward her, tires screaming.
The car flashed past her so fast it whipped her hair around, leaving smoking skid marks on the asphalt before it spun into a U-turn.
'Who the hell is holding an F1 race in the school parking lot?'
She clicked her tongue and started walking again. The Porsche's engine cut off. The door opened and a man stepped out.
More accurately, he had barely managed to pull his massive frame from the low-slung sports car's cramped interior.
The man slung a large gym bag over one shoulder and strode toward the rink with long, powerful steps.
Glossy black hair, broad shoulders. It was Tristan.
"Hey!"
Cora called out urgently, but Tristan didn't even glance back. He climbed the two flight of steps two at a time with those long legs.
'...He definitely heard me.'
Frustrated, Cora hurried after him. Thanks to the height difference, Tristan moved like he was walking on an invisible treadmill. She followed him inside, but he had already vanished.
Where had he gone?
'Practice is about to start. He's probably changing in the locker room right now.'
She couldn't just storm into the boys' locker room full of half-naked athletes.
'What now? I have to wait until practice ends?'
Helpless, Cora shifted her weight from foot to foot. A cold draft suddenly brushed her face.
The door to the ice rink stood wide open.
Peeking through the gap, she saw a few spectators already seated in the stands. It looked like an open practice open to the public.
Cora tightened her jacket and slipped inside.
"...Wow."
She gasped at the sight. The rink was equipped with facilities that could host a professional league game without a second thought. A massive four-sided LED jumbotron hung from the ceiling. The stands held thousands of seats, and surrounding them were the glassed-in VIP boxes.
'How much money did they throw at this college arena...'
What caught her eye most was the impossibly smooth ice.
The surface, freshly zambonied, looked like it would glide under her skates without even trying.
'Wow... Skating here would be incredible.'
Cora descended the stairs and settled into the front-row seats. From her bag she pulled out a thick sweater and pulled it over her clothes.
'He'll step onto the ice any minute now. This is my chance.'
As she carefully set her bag on her knees, a loud clang echoed. The metal gate on the side burst open.
"Let's go, boys!"
The coach's booming shout was answered by the sharp crack of a stick hitting the boards.
Seconds later, a flood of hockey players in blue-and-black uniforms poured onto the ice, shoulder pads and equipment clattering.
Swish. Swish.
The sound of blades slicing across the ice filled the arena from every direction. Players circled the perimeter, skating fast to warm up.
'Where is he?'
Cora scanned the players, searching for Tristan. Just then, the gate opened again. A player wearing the captain's C on his jersey strode onto the ice like the main character, number 19. It was the man she had been desperately looking for.