The Sound of the Stones
The lower-grade playroom at Hanyoung Private Elementary School.
This space, which would have been bustling with first-graders in the morning, was now filled with a heavy silence.
The atmosphere was tense enough to quiet even Min-jun and Ha-rang, who would normally be rummaging through the playroom's toys in a fit of mischief.
Since the other kids had stayed behind in the classroom to study, only Min-jun and Ha-rang had tagged along, thinking it would be fun.
But now, caught in this suffocating tension, they were holding their breath.
Because it was a playroom for younger kids, the chairs were a bit small for fifth-graders. They looked uncomfortable for Si-woo, but they were a perfect fit for Chul-jun.
Si-woo stared blankly at the empty Baduk board, which didn't have a single stone on it yet, before speaking.
“Are you really an Amateur 6-dan?”
“Yeah!”
“On AlphaGem?”
“Yeah!”
Si-woo's brow furrowed.
AlphaGem was a Baduk platform that professional players frequently used for practice because its anti-cheating detection was nearly flawless.
Professional players got a special "Pro" badge next to their names once verified.
Si-woo himself was an Amateur 7-dan on AlphaGem.
In any case, an Amateur 6-dan on AlphaGem possessed a level of skill that would make them a powerhouse even among the veteran uncles who frequented local Baduk parlors.
A kid his own age with that kind of skill, and he wasn't an academy trainee?
It was hard to believe.
“What's your username?”
Si-woo pulled out his phone and opened the AlphaGem record-tracking app.
Chul-jun crossed his arms, lifted his chin, and proudly declared:
“ImmortalFireBat!”
Watching from the side, Min-jun and Ha-rang made gagging faces, while Go Chang-ho cleared his throat in sheer disbelief.
Si-woo searched the record, then tilted his head in confusion.
“It says 3-dan?”
And on a twelve-game losing streak, no less.
Chul-jun's eyes went wide.
“Huh? That's not right. Just yesterday...”
“It is. Look.”
Si-woo showed him the screen, and Chul-jun scowled.
Recent Record: 12 Consecutive Losses
It was obviously Uncle Hyeong-man's doing.
“Is this really your account? Well, 3-dan is still decent... but if you're a 3-dan, a four-stone handicap should do.”
Si-woo let out a quiet sigh.
Honestly, he couldn't even be sure if this "ImmortalFireBat" account actually belonged to Chul-jun.
But since the kid claimed it was his...
Chul-jun pouted.
“Fine. But if I win, we clear the board and play again.”
“Whether we clear the board or just reduce the handicap by one stone depends on how well you play.”
“We keep playing, right?”
“Sure. If I lose, I'll keep playing. But if I win even once, we're done.”
“Deal!”
Go Chang-ho watched them with a warm smile.
He had thought Si-woo was just a precocious, ego-driven kid acting like a miniature adult, but sitting in front of the Baduk board, the boy was incredibly dignified.
His entire aura had shifted.
He exuded composure, his eyes shone with life, and every word he spoke carried absolute confidence.
So this is a child who dreams of becoming a professional.
In this moment, Si-woo seemed more mature than Chang-ho himself.
Min-jun and Ha-rang seemed to sense it too, staring at Si-woo with wide eyes.
They whispered to each other: “Whoa, Si-woo is so cool.” “Did he just shift gears?”
Chul-jun picked up the black stones and placed four handicap stones on the board.
Watching him, Si-woo tilted his head.
I thought he knew how to play, but why is he holding the stones like that?
Chul-jun's fingers, much smaller than Si-woo's, were gripping the stone using four fingers, leaving only his pinky out.
Even seven-year-olds who had just started learning were taught to hold stones using only their index and middle fingers.
Si-woo let out a soft sigh and picked up a white stone.
He had never expected to be playing Baduk at school.
But he had absolutely no intention of taking it easy.
He would make sure Chul-jun never dared to bring up Baduk in front of him again.
Si-woo's first move snapped down right next to a black stone.
The white stone landed next to the black one, and Chul-jun entered a state of hyper-focus.
With a four-stone handicap, he was certain he wouldn't lose, but his goal was an overwhelming victory.
Only then would his future arguments regarding Baduk carry logical weight.
In a handicap game, Si-woo had to play aggressively.
He had to chip away at the black stones' pre-existing influence.
To make the most of the handicap, the optimal strategy for Black was to gently evade those attacks while quietly securing profit.
Since Black already controlled a vast territory, there was no need to accept every fight.
But Chul-jun had no interest in playing that kind of passive Baduk.
—Tap!
He slammed a black stone right next to Si-woo's white stone, aggressively applying pressure.
Si-woo tilted his head, seemingly surprised by the unexpected move.
Then, he picked up a white stone and responded.
—Snap!
As expected, he attacked again.
And with blatant pressure.
Si-woo's move asked: Are you really going to fight me on this?
—Tap!
Chul-jun had no intention of backing down.
So his move answered: Yes!
—Snap!
—Tap!
—Snap!
In the silence, the slightly different sounds of their stones hitting the board echoed continuously.
Even Chang-ho, who only knew the bare basics of Baduk, furrowed his brow and focused.
He had played a few handicap games in the past.
Because of that, he could vaguely tell that the battle unfolding before him was highly unusual.
The weaker player, who required a handicap, was stubbornly insisting on a head-on clash with the master.
Yet, the flow of the game was incredibly intriguing.
—Tap!
The clumsily placed black stones felt as though they were suffocating the white ones.
—Snap!
Glancing over, Chang-ho saw Si-woo's brow furrow deeply.
—Tap!
Chang-ho tilted his head.
...Huh?
Si-woo was clacking his white stones, picking them up and putting them back down.
—Snap!
—Tap!
Unlike Chul-jun, who played without a moment's hesitation, Si-woo's pauses grew longer and longer.
—Snap!
—Tap!
Si-woo's eyes scanned the black and white stones scattered across the board.
Then, he bit his lower lip.
—Snap!
—Tap!
—Snap!
—Plop!
Clack. Clack. Clack.
After staring at the board for a long time, Si-woo let out a soft sigh and looked up.
He stared at Chul-jun with a look of utter bewilderment, then glared back down at the board.
He kept picking up and dropping his white stones.
He let out another quiet sigh.
The tension was suffocating.
Was Baduk always this intense?
Go Chang-ho swallowed hard.
Even Min-jun and Ha-rang, who knew nothing about Baduk, could sense the atmosphere.
They had barely played any moves, yet Si-woo looked troubled while Chul-jun looked like he was having the time of his life.
The two of them were dying to tease Si-woo, their lips twitching, but they barely managed to hold it in.
Even these two troublemakers were old enough to read the room and realize how serious this match was for both Si-woo and Chul-jun.
They both had the same thought as Chang-ho.
Is Baduk really this terrifying?
Every time a stone was placed, the two boys puckered their lips in suspense.
—Snap!
Si-woo's stones landed with a crisp, satisfying snap, perfectly positioned in one go.
—Plop!
Chul-jun's stones landed so clumsily that even they felt they could do a better job.
He couldn't even place them on the intersections properly, so he had to slide them into place after setting them down.
Yet, the moment Si-woo placed a stone, Chul-jun responded without a second thought.
And then, Si-woo would sink into deep thought.
Even the two onlookers could feel the stark contrast in their pacing.
Holy crap. Chul-jun is insane! Is he actually beating Si-woo?
They knew Chul-jun was a bit unusual, but they had no idea he was this incredible.
Their sparkling eyes locked onto Chul-jun's tiny hand.
Si-woo furrowed his brow.
He habitually clacked his stones.
He had lost the first major battle in the lower-right corner, which he had entered with absolute determination.
He hadn't managed to reduce Black's influence much at all; instead, he had barely managed to live by making two eyes in the corner.
He was completely blocked off, unable to extend toward the center.
He had only succeeded in making Black's center influence even thicker.
Should I have played elsewhere?
No.
In a handicap game, White couldn't afford to play elsewhere without achieving some kind of result.
Even if he had abandoned the fight and moved to another part of the board, the result would likely have been the same.
That was how suffocating Chul-jun's pressure was.
Although only one battle in the lower-right corner had concluded, to Si-woo's eyes, the entire board already looked like Black's territory.
Once he accepted his complete defeat in the first battle, the remaining three black handicap stones sitting on the star points looked absolutely colossal.
Clack. Clack.
Unconsciously biting his lower lip, Si-woo picked up a white stone and placed it gently beside the board, rather than on it.
Then, he bowed his head.
“...I resign.”
Chul-jun grinned.
“The loser cleans up the board, right? How are we playing the next game? Even game?”
Si-woo stared at the board for a moment before slowly nodding.
Just playing this brief game was enough to tell him everything.
Chul-jun was easily a 6-dan—no, he would have to play an even game to be sure, but Chul-jun was likely a 7-dan, just like him.
He raised his head and looked straight into Chul-jun's bright, innocent face.
The look in Si-woo's eyes had completely transformed.
“Geez. You left your kid with a schoolteacher at a critical time like this?”
Park Jin-kyum let out a quiet sigh at his friend's scolding.
Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing either.
But that teacher's eyes had been so intense.
He felt like he just had to trust him.
Or perhaps he was simply grasping at straws.
After all, Si-woo's progress had been stagnant for quite some time.
Since he couldn't figure out what was wrong or how to fix it, he had decided to take a leap of faith and leave the boy with the teacher.
“I heard that teacher doesn't even know much about Baduk.”
“Yeah. He said he only knows the basics.”
“Hmm. Don't you know how crucial a single week is at that age? He might lose his touch entirely and have to rebuild his intuition from scratch.”
His friend, an instructor at the Korea Baduk Association headquarters, shook his head and stared at the academy trainees playing their games.
Then, he spoke quietly.
“Were you really that desperate?”
Park Jin-kyum closed his eyes tightly and nodded.
When Si-woo was seven and played remarkably bold moves against the association's trainees, every professional player in the vicinity had been stunned.
When he won a tournament for preschoolers in overwhelming fashion, he was even featured in online articles as a prodigy who would lead the future of Korean Baduk.
If he hadn't been the son of Park Jin-kyum 8-dan, prominent professional players would have scrambled to take him under their wing.
Back then, everyone thought he would shatter the record for the youngest player to turn professional.
However, he failed to qualify in the Under-14 Young Genius Professional Entry Tournament, which only accepted two players a year. Then, in the newly established Under-12 Tournament, he climbed all the way to first place in the winner's bracket, only to lose in the finals and miss his chance.
After that, he kept narrowly missing the mark.
And just like that, time had slipped away.
His friend let out a heavy sigh.
“Sigh... It must be tough on you too.”
“I honestly don't know. I don't know what I did wrong...”
“Don't blame yourself. That's up to the heavens. We saw it all the time back when we were trainees—kids who played far beyond their years suddenly hitting a wall and falling behind.”
“...”
“A child can play like older kids early on. But there's no guarantee they'll still be better than everyone else once they actually reach that age. Sigh, I wish I had better words for you... but I don't.”
They had seen too many trainees dedicate their entire lives to Baduk, only to fail to turn pro and be thrown into society completely unprepared.
Because of that, his friend knew exactly how agonizing it was to watch one's own child tread that same path.
But there were no comforting words to offer.
After all, both of them had lived their entire lives with their eyes fixed solely on Baduk.
Park Jin-kyum clenched his trembling fists and spoke with great effort.
“Just until this upcoming Young Genius Tournament...”
His friend nodded silently.
If he was going to give up, doing it sooner rather than later was the right choice.
While Si-woo's rapid early growth was partly to blame, his stagnation had lasted far too long.
Even though he still had a few more chances in the Under-15 Tournament, looking at his recent games, it didn't seem promising.
Lately, he wasn't just stagnant—his skills were actually starting to decline.
No one knew how to reverse a downward trend.
It required an incredibly strong will from the player, and a bit of divine intervention.
“I want to pull him out of the academy trainee tournaments.”
“Sigh... Yeah.”
He understood completely.
The trainee tournaments, which required surviving a brutal, year-round battle for rankings, were a living hell.
Once you got sucked into that world, you couldn't easily quit even if you wanted to.
Most only gave up when they turned nineteen and aged out of the trainee program.
And then they were cast out into the world with nothing.
He couldn't bear to watch his own son suffer that fate.
Still, it was a relief.
A relief that Jin-kyum was able to view his son's abilities so objectively.
It spared his friend from having to deliver the painful truth himself.
Park Jin-kyum raised his head.
“That's why I left him with the teacher.”
“...”
“Like grasping at one last straw.”
“Sigh... Right. He went to Harvard, didn't he? Maybe he knows something we don't.”
As if such a thing exists.
“Let's trust him.”
But his friend truly had nothing else to say.
He simply patted the back of Park Jin-kyum, who was gritting his teeth.
—Snap!
—Tap!
—Snap!
—Tap!
—Snap!
—Plop!
...
—Snap!
...
For the first time, Chul-jun hesitated.
During the brief pause in the suffocating rhythm of the stones, Go Chang-ho quickly checked his watch.
5:00 PM.
After the fifth period ended, they had paused the game so Chang-ho could dismiss the rest of the class before returning.
Since then, the match had continued uninterrupted.
Min-jun and Ha-rang, who had managed to hang around until three o'clock, had already gone home. Now, only Chang-ho and the two young players remained in the playroom.
As he watched, even Chang-ho began to see the flow of the stones.
A fierce momentum, as if each stone were trying to devour the other without mercy.
Watching the intense concentration of the two boys sent a shiver down his spine.
Chang-ho had never witnessed anything like this before.
Despite the terrifyingly tense atmosphere, both of their expressions were peculiar.
—Tap!
Chul-jun placed a stone, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.
—Snap!
Si-woo slammed his stone down, looking incredibly thrilled.
What on earth is happening here?
The boys looked as if they were playing the most exhilarating game in the world.
Yet, the air around them was sharp enough to cut skin.
They didn't exchange a single word.
They didn't even make eye contact, keeping their gazes locked onto the board.
But their expressions made it seem as if they were having a deep conversation.
—Tap!
—Snap!
Chang-ho was completely overwhelmed by this wondrous sight.
He was even careful not to swallow too loudly.
—Tap!
...
Si-woo furrowed his brow for a long moment, then bowed his head.
“I lost. Again!”
“Okay!”
As Si-woo began to clear the board, Go Chang-ho quickly placed his hand over it.
He felt that if he didn't stop them now, they would never pull themselves away.
“Uh, how about we get something to eat first? Aren't you guys hungry?”
Chul-jun grinned.
“Bburinkle chicken!”
“Me too!”
“Huh? Oh, sure.”
Chang-ho quickly tapped on his phone,
“You should have played elsewhere here! You were too obsessed with a group that was already dead.”
“Hmm, I thought I could gain something on that side.”
“No way. I had already read all your moves over there.”
“Look. If you play here like this...”
Hearing the two young players chatter away, Go Chang-ho could only shake his head with a smile.