Professional Debut
The press conference hall at the Hankuk Kiwon.
More than a hundred reporters were jostling for position, locked in a furious contest for the best seats.
Ryu Seoa — the name at the very center of the Go world's attention, yet about whom almost nothing was actually known.
The youngest professional inductee in history, and the birth of the youngest active professional Go player.
Here was someone who had never so much as entered a junior tournament, who hadn't even been a trainee, who had seemingly dropped out of the sky, cut down several male professionals, and very nearly advanced to the main stage of a world title tournament.
Gong Daegil, editor-in-chief of a Go magazine, swallowed dryly and twisted his body through the crowd, wriggling his way as far forward as he could manage.
"Ryu Seoa, 1-dan. This is Kim Jieun of the OO Daily. First of all, congratulations on your induction! You've rewritten so many records at such a young age — who did you study under to develop your skill so quickly?"
The first question went to the girl with long blonde hair tied back with a large ribbon. She stood before a wall of cameras and reporters, and rather than shrinking from the attention, she looked positively at ease.
"Ah... I owe a lot to my grandfather, who loves Go. From the time I was little I worked through lots of life-and-death problems, picked up joseki here and there in my spare time, and playing games on internet Go servers and at the local association made it fun — I think practicing hard like that led to good results!"
At the girl's words, Gong Daegil could only stare, dumbfounded. She beat three professionals on nothing but life-and-death problems and internet Go? Male professionals, no less?
"This is Park Minkyu of OO Sports. Would it be all right to ask your grandfather's name? Your grandfather's full name."
Apparently Gong Daegil wasn't the only one harboring such doubts, because one of the reporters threw out the question.
"Ahaha... My grandfather isn't a professional player or anyone famous, so you probably wouldn't know him. He plays as a hobby, but he's played for a long time, so there was plenty for me to learn!"
Which meant she'd never had a proper teacher at all. It was unbelievable. Was this truly all Ryu Seoa's own talent? Could a person really reach that level without ever being trained?
There was no pressing further once she'd said no. The reporters soon shifted the direction of their questions.
"Han Seojin of the OO Daily! I have a question for 9-dan Park Jinyoung. Some in the Go community are claiming that Ryu Seoa, 1-dan, received enormous preferential treatment. I would like to ask whether the board of directors reached its decision on clear, concrete grounds for permitting her Special Professional Induction."
The question was aimed at the association insider appearing at the press conference alongside Ryu Seoa — an accusation that the Hankuk Kiwon, dazzled by marketability and buzz, had rushed into granting the special induction.
"The special induction system is one from which several talented players have already benefited. Ryu Seoa, 1-dan, met the criteria required for special induction, so I can say with confidence that the claim of preferential treatment is an unfair suspicion."
"Chae Jiwon of OO Baduk. I found the game between 9-dan Park Pilgyu and Ryu Seoa very impressive. However, Ryu Seoa, 1-dan, showed considerable physical weakness and inexperience, and even if she did meet the internal criteria, some worry that the decision was made too hastily. What is your position?"
Ryu Seoa was remarkable — without a doubt a once-in-a-century prodigy. But nobody knew exactly how strong she really was. She might well be overrated on the strength of a mere handful of games.
Claims that the three professionals she had defeated had been in terrible condition and, caught off guard, hadn't played at full strength had gained a certain traction online. And even Gong Daegil himself couldn't dismiss that possibility entirely.
"That is precisely why, as announced in advance, an exhibition game will be held following this press conference. She is scheduled to face 7-dan Ju Hayul."
7-dan Ju Hayul.
The fifth-ranked female professional, who had captured her first title at a tournament held just months earlier.
If Ryu Seoa held her own against an opponent like that, the public perception that her skill was empty hype would die down on its own.
Gong Daegil studied Ryu Seoa as she fielded the relentless stream of questions with unruffled calm.
An unfamiliar environment, unfamiliar faces, and a game against one of the top female players about to unfold. It would have been natural for her to look a little cowed, yet there was not the slightest trace of nerves — nothing short of frightening.
Instead, her eyes were sunk deep in solitary, serious thought. What could this girl with those innocent, wide eyes possibly be thinking inside?
Perhaps watching the upcoming game would tell him a little, and the thought left him quietly thrilled.
7-dan Ju Hayul took a deep, silent breath as she watched the small girl seated opposite her in an utterly unshakable posture.
However she ran the numbers, the arithmetic simply didn't work. Win, and she gained nothing; lose, and she had everything to lose.
This tiny kid had already beaten several male professionals and gone toe-to-toe with the living legend Park Pilgyu, 9-dan.
She hadn't seen with her own eyes just how well the little thing played, but she had to win. There was no other option.
The fuseki followed joseki exactly.
For someone claiming to be self-taught, her fundamentals were remarkably solid.
And yet — attempting a head-on contest of strength against a titleholder, instead of gambling? Was it arrogance, or genuine confidence?
Either way, it was interesting. Sooner or later, once her skill blossomed further, this child might well stand across the board from her in one major tournament after another.
Playing aggressively to probe her style and measure her strength didn't seem like a bad idea at all.
7-dan Ju Hayul attempted a local skirmish on the lower side.
Contrary to expectation, the little thing accepted the provocation without hesitation, tangling stones with her at once.
All-out war. They clashed head-on, each carrying only the thinnest of forces.
The game naturally sprawled into a chaotic melee.
Holding the initiative, 7-dan Ju Hayul drove her attack into the girl's low-side group with relentless precision — a dizzying tightrope walk where a single misstep meant plunging into the abyss.
Yield even a little and secure a base, and everything would get easier; but the child across the board, as if she had no intention whatsoever of conceding even the smallest loss, walked her tightrope with perfect composure.
This was an exhibition game with generous time allowances, and 7-dan Ju Hayul stabbed methodically, again and again, at the vital points.
Attacks calculated to perfection and executed with surgical restraint. And yet the girl slipped free of them all with a flexibility of play so light it defied belief.
Aggravatingly, she took everything worth taking while she was at it.
"...All right."
She knew at least this much: the girl was no bubble, whatever some of the netizens clamoring on the internet might say.
But she had no intention of meekly offering herself up as a sacrifice for a ten-year-old's first professional victory.
And then a superb move caught her eye.
7-dan Ju Hayul picked up a stone like the wind and placed it down with a bright, ringing snap.