The Qualifier
It had been a full two months since the Pair Go finals ended with a half-point victory for Lee Na-ye 9-dan and Lee Han-lim 6-dan.
Runner-up wasn't a bad result — but I had lost through my own greed, squandering a favorable position. I'd forgotten it was Pair Go at all, burying myself in my own variations and chasing my own reading down a lonely path. After the tournament, Yoo Jeon-hun 9-dan comforted me, insisting the mistake had been his, but the apology still sits wrong in my chest.
Then, after what I'd told myself was thorough preparation, I fell in the final preliminary round of the World Kiwang Tournament. My second attempt, at a domestic open tournament, ended in elimination as well. Maybe the brackets had been unkind, but the truth was simpler: I hadn't prepared enough.
The next challenge would be the Yang Changchi Cup qualifier.
Total prize pool: one million dollars. The champion's purse alone was 400,000 — nearly five hundred million won — and because it was held only once every four years, people called it the Olympics of Go.
As with any world tournament, merely reaching the main stage of the Yang Changchi Cup was brutally difficult. Aside from Yoo Jeon-hun 9-dan, who as last edition's runner-up held a seeded berth straight into the round of 16, Korea was allotted exactly four spots. The top two players by ranking would advance directly to the main draw's round of 28, while the remaining two slots would be fought over by the nation's finest professionals in the qualifier.
So that this slump doesn't stretch on — this time, I would have to compete with everything I had.
English class. Most of my subjects were taught by our homeroom teacher, but English and PE each had their own dedicated instructors. And much as I felt guilty about it, thanks to my father I spoke English fluently, which made it genuinely hard to sit through lessons pitched at an elementary school level.
I quietly opened my book.
A travel guide. If I made it through the qualifier and got to go to Taiwan, I planned to bring my parents along. Father's immunity had recovered enough now that he could go out freely again. He'd spent so long confined at home fighting his illness, and Mother with him, caring for him — they must have felt caged. I wanted to show them wonderful sights, treat them to a proper meal. Of course, for that, qualifying for the main tournament came first.
"Ryu Seoa."
A razor-sharp voice cutting into my concentration, calling my name. My little diversion had been noticed, apparently.
"...Yes?"
I carefully closed the book.
"Pretty full of yourself, aren't you, doing so well as a pro player? If you're planning to step onto the world stage someday, you'd better study your foreign languages properly."
A young English teacher in her early thirties. Younger than my mind, at least — but I suppose I should humor her.
"Yes."
I nodded, swallowing a sigh.
"Your father's from Wales, wasn't it? I know, I know, so your English must be good. What I'd like to know is how good, since apparently class isn't even worth listening to."
"I'm sorry."
"You know what they say — see one, know ten. Judging by your attitude in class, Go won't carry you far either, will it? I read that you got knocked out of the prelims again."
Now she was openly hostile. My not paying attention while making a name for myself as a Go professional must have grated on her for quite a while.
Had I been in her shoes, I'd have been annoyed too. But was there any real need to say it like that?
"I apologize."
"One little game you're good at, and everyone puffs you up until you think you're above the adults entirely. Honestly — stacking stones on a board, and people bow and scrape about it like it's some kind of sport for the mind."
Her words kept crossing the line, and I could feel my own temper fraying. Young teachers, it seemed, hadn't yet learned to keep their emotions in check.
"I'm sorry. If you'd rather I not sit in on the lesson, I'll wait outside the classroom."
I had no desire to trade insults and spew coarse words back and forth, so I rose from my seat. Arguing back would only leave me exhausted, for no good reason.
"Fine. Go out there and kneel with your hands up."
Fortunately, at least, she didn't try to stop me.
I gathered my pencil case and textbook in silence and stepped out of the classroom.
In my homeroom, the teacher looked out for me and none of this ever happened — but perhaps I should be more careful in English class, at least. Whatever the circumstances, there was no way the teacher could know my situation, and not paying attention in class was, in fairness, my own fault.
"Haah... A brat with that much nerve, huh."
Having shut the classroom door behind me, I leaned my back against the cold hallway wall and grumbled to myself.
Even so, in this life I wanted to try living an ordinary school life, which was why I forced myself to attend. And elementary school has no attendance requirement — you can skip class and still graduate. Future schooling might get complicated, but if I was going to keep having my time stolen like this, honestly...
"...Calm down."
I was already in a slump and feeling raw; her words had stung, and I'd tipped too far into emotion.
The principal had arranged for me to be marked fully present if I only attended through the morning. I couldn't smear his kindness just to make things a little easier on myself.
The door slid open with a rattle, and a girl from my class stepped out.
She gave me a shy smile and a wink.
Ha Yoo-jin. The class president, hair in a neat braid.
She couldn't possibly be making fun of me.
"..."
The direction she set off in was nowhere near the restroom.
"Um..."
Something felt chillingly off, and I tried to stop her — but she was already hurrying away, quick steps carrying her out of reach.
"Hmm..."
Unease creeping over me, I knelt on the cold floor and raised my hands.
"Seoa?"
What appeared next was the girl, pointing a finger at me, and the principal, eyes going wide as he took me in.
Good heavens. Dragging that busy man away over something this trivial...
The class president had evidently reported everything, because the principal gave me a brief look, then rapped politely on the classroom door.
"I apologize for interrupting your lesson, Teacher Chae. I'd like to borrow Ryu Seoa for a moment. And please set aside a little time to speak with me after class."
A voice soft yet weighted with authority. He was angry.
Before the frozen English teacher could get a word out, the principal closed the classroom door.
"Teacher Ryu, shall we go have a cup of tea together?"
It wasn't an offer one could refuse. I stood without a word and nodded.
Trudging out through the school gate after morning classes ended.
"Haah."
The short tea time in the principal's office still lingered with me. He'd insisted that if anything threatened my school life, no matter how small, I was to come to him immediately. He'd also promised to discipline the English teacher firmly so this would never happen again — though when I argued that the fault was mine more than hers, I couldn't help wondering how that would actually play out.
Thinking of her pale, trembling face as she scrambled to the principal's office the second class ended, I felt a flash of satisfaction — and, just slightly, a pang of pity.
"You worked hard, Seoa. Nothing unusual today?"
Lee So-hee, my personal driver — we'd grown quite close by now — greeted me from outside the car door. Of course, this friendship had cost me a great sacrifice: in exchange for her speaking casually to me, I had to call her "Unnie."
"Yes, Unnie."
Thanks to my fervent classmates — the kind who'd sprint to the principal's office on my behalf — everything had turned out fine in the end.
"Heading straight to training again today?"
"Yes. Jiah Unnie said she'd come along too."
"You're one thing, Seoa, but Jiah really throws herself into everything. Thinking back on my own childhood, I'm honestly embarrassed."
"Oh, it's nothing. I've kept at it thanks to you, Sohee Unnie. Without you I'd have gotten lazy and quit halfway."
"Glad I was useful. In that case, work me even harder."
"I will."
As our easy chatter carried on, we pulled up near the gym. My stamina had grown to the point where I could hang from the pull-up bar for over two minutes, and ten push-ups came without much struggle. If I wanted results, I'd have to keep it up from here.
"Thank you, Sohee Unnie. I'll call you when we're done."
"Sure. Work hard today too, miss."
I padded into the building and rode the elevator up, and by the time I arrived, my disciple had already changed and was deep in her stretches.
"Whew."
That twinge of guilt I felt every time I pushed open the door to the women's locker room. I checked that the place was empty, then changed as quickly as I could.
"You're a bit late today, Master."
"Haha, sorry about that. Say — don't you smell something?"
It wasn't a bad smell. Quite the opposite — a fresh, flowery perfume. But far too much of it for any one person to have worn.
"Oh, that... could it be because of this?"
Lee Jiah held up her phone and played a video.
My own face filled the screen. Watching myself in third person like this — I was even more cringeworthy than I'd imagined.
Come to think of it, I had filmed that ad. I'd tried my best to erase it from memory, but apparently the time had come for it to start airing.
"'Ryu Seoa Perfume' — it even trended on the search rankings for a while. I got curious and bought one... and I bet the gym director and the other members bought some too."
As Lee Jiah spoke, my eyes briefly met another member's across the room.
A man thrusting his thumb up at me, utterly without context. I did my best to avert my gaze.
Good heavens. That ridiculous ad blew up this much? For the sake of keeping one lousy contractual obligation, this is what I did?
"...Unnie, I think I'm going to throw up."
Sinking to the floor where I stood, I let the nausea wash over me.