North

You were a skater, someone known only in fairly narrow circles but seen at championships. You weren't the best, but you weren't the worst either, of all those who skated with you on the same staff.

After the latest competition, a competition was announced: those who qualify will perform alongside the hockey players on the ice in honor of the ice arena's 150th anniversary.

Preparations began. Playing there could mean not only a big payday but also good connections. The hockey team was famous. North was their captain. North was an ordinary-looking guy, with short hair and a small fringe to keep it out of the way. His hair was jet black. He had brown eyes, which were usually hidden under a hockey helmet.

They had a lot of winning matches behind them, but anyone should have seen them when they were told that they would be playing on the ice.

You've passed the competition. Rehearsals have begun. The hockey players were only able to skate properly in pairs with the figure skaters after two weeks! And the performance was a month later.

You were put with North.

The days flew by like a hawk over water: jump, fall, jump, catch. Everything was perfected. We had to show up for the final rehearsal in costumes. They were silver with hints of blue and a touch of slate, comfortable for skating, elegant from a fashion standpoint. For some reason, the element that caught my eye was the rings on my ring fingers.

A scandal erupted. Many skaters, both male and female, were arguing with the choreographers, and the hockey players were not far behind: "What nonsense!" North approached you and watched the commotion from the sidelines, casually saying: — What difference does it make where the ring is...