Eight Years Old (3)
Fifteen applicants today… that's a lot.
Yu Hyungyeong, a judge and supervisor affiliated with the Skating Union, rolled the stiffness from her neck and flipped through the documents.
Today's promotion exam ended at Level 5. From Level 6 onward — a rank no one bothered with unless they meant to go pro — the applicant pool usually thinned to almost nothing.
Well, Level 5 is basically treated as pro territory too.
Scanning the list of candidates before the exam began, Yu Hyungyeong's eyes stopped on a single name.
Cha Seolhwa.
The child who had stamped herself on the Union's radar at her first competition two years ago. After earning Level 4 last year, she had shown no sign of even sitting for the Level 5 exam, let alone entering another competition. Yu Hyungyeong had half-wondered whether she'd given figure skating up entirely.
Apparently she was still in the fight.
I wonder if she's ready.
Inside the rink, warm-ups were already in full swing. Yu Hyungyeong's gaze swept the ice.
Among the fifteen applicants, one body and one posture stood out at a glance.
Cha Seolhwa was preparing with movements so clean they looked refined down to the last unnecessary twitch.
Eight years old.
The starting age was young to begin with, and figure skating was a world where only a handful of geniuses survived. Even so, attempting Level 5 at eight was absurd on its face.
If she'd drilled jumps above everything else, landing a double Axel was possible. But the skating skill Level 5 demanded, and a program that included a double Axel, was no small ask for a young child.
Two years ahead of schedule?
On top of that, articles had run earlier this year when Jin Sehee — the next superstar of women's singles the federation was pushing — passed at ten. If Seolhwa passed, she would be two years younger still.
I thought Sehee was early… what even is this kid?
Yu Hyungyeong lowered her head again and skimmed the list. Already throwing double Axels and challenging Level 5.
She looked up once more at the child on the ice. Small frame, posture immaculately composed; every turn, every arm line carried a focus and polish you almost never saw in her age group.
Kids who act older than their years usually do skate better than their peers, true.
Figure skating was a sport where the experience built through practice mattered more overwhelmingly than almost any other. Even geniuses failed, and the sport was about living through those failures and carving them down. Young children, though, often slacked on practice out of fear of failing — or simple laziness.
That looks far too natural.
Seolhwa's body moved in ways that made it impossible to guess how many hours she had poured into practice. "Eight-year-old child" and "veteran skater" were two phrases that belonged to different planets. Watching motion worn into muscle the way you only saw in veterans, Yu Hyungyeong felt, if anything, a strange uncanniness.
"…"
Without meaning to, she brought the tip of her pen to her lips.
This wasn't simply the thought that another promising prospect had appeared. After years of judging, there were moments when an instinct whispered, this child is different — the same instinct she'd felt around Han Jinsung in men's singles, or Shin Yerim, who had only recently retired.
She felt that same pull from Cha Seolhwa.
"You remember that before the free skate they check skating and jumps first, right?"
"Yes."
At my answer, Yerim ruffled my hair with an approving look. I still had a program to perform today, but this wasn't a competition, so there was no makeup or full setup — which meant a head pat was fine.
"Condition good today?"
"Yes."
My condition was at its peak. The only thing that bothered me a little was—
The ice quality is pretty bad.
Maybe it was because a scheduling snarl had forced them to rent a small rink, but the ice was worse than I'd expected. Being merely bad wouldn't have been a problem on its own.
It almost feels under-frozen, too.
Still, it wasn't causing immediate issues, so I waited for my turn.
"Number five, Cha Seolhwa — please prepare."
"Don't get nervous!"
With Yerim's encouragement, I stepped onto the ice. The supervisor for today was a middle-aged woman who looked like she carried real experience — a face I didn't recognize from my days as a pro; she must have retired by then, or simply never crossed my path.
"We'll begin with skating."
Following her instruction, I took my place at the marked starting line.
"You may begin when ready."
I let out one breath and finished preparing.
Counter first. Outside, forward.
I loaded weight onto my left foot and pushed off the line. The first curve carved sharp into the ice. Entering on a forward outside edge, I eased my gaze and shoulder the other way.
Break the edge.
I cleanly snapped the deep-carving track, pivoted my center hard onto the toe, and without losing balance, revived the outside edge in the opposite direction as if it had always been there. A soft shhk of air being cut across the ice. The curve from a single step unfurled like a phrase of music.
Good.
Fluid yet precise, turning angles that would be impossible without a fine sense of balance, I completed a full lap of the rink. Then I linked into a straight-line step sequence, carefully refining the lines of my toes and arms as I drove back toward the center of the ice.
When I returned in front of the supervisor:
"Cha Seolhwa — counter step, forward outside: pass."
A clean pass. Next—
"We'll now check a flying sit spin of six revolutions and a double Axel. Begin as soon as you're ready."
"I'll go right away."
"Understood."
First, the flying sit spin — six turns. A flying sit spin was a skill where you launched into the air and spun as you landed.
Use the spring.
I drove upward off my left foot, folded my right leg in at once, and dropped my upper body into the spin position. The axis locked without a tremor.
One, two, three…
The rotation built faster and cleaner. Hips low, knees fixed and stable. Four, five, six.
On the sixth revolution I released exactly on the mark and settled lightly onto the ice. Neither rotational force nor center had wavered in the slightest. From the supervisor's direction, I caught a small nod.
"Going straight into the double Axel as well?"
"Yes."
"Begin when ready."
No reason to burn time. I went immediately. The unstable takeoff unique to a forward-facing jump — I trusted the feel I'd drilled into myself countless times, drove hard off my left foot, and pulled my upper body up. Half a turn in the air, then two: two and a half total. My body wound tight through the empty space, and the instant the rotation finished I planted my weight cleanly onto the right-foot edge.
"Double Axel successful as well. If you applied for free skating today, please return and wait."
"Thank you."
I bowed to the judge and went back to Yerim outside the rink.
"Nice. Not a single mistake."
"Now I just have to pass free."
"Yeah. A lot of people do the elements and free on separate days, so once the technical checks are done you should be able to go straight into free."
I spent the wait watching the other participants. Then my free skate time arrived.
The length was three minutes thirty seconds under the rules…
Junior well-balanced free skating.
A Well-Balanced Free Skating Program for Junior — the free skate rules the International Skating Union set out for junior athletes. Three jumps, three spins, and a step sequence. The full range of skills was exactly why a skater who passed Level 5 was recognized as a real competitor.
"Competitor number five, Cha Seolhwa — please prepare for free skating."
I'd been running through my program in my head while watching a few of the others, and my turn came before I knew it. I peeled off my coat, pulled on my gloves, and headed onto the ice.
Today's music was piano-forward, no lyrics. I leaned hard into the feeling of executing a fixed program rather than pouring out emotion.
…Now.
On the music's cue I moved. First a simple double toe loop. Next, my favorite double loop combination into a spin, then another spin. After that I opened up across the rink for the step sequence.
Left: the double Axel and a finishing sit spin. The Axel first — I set the jump.
One, two…
I jumped on the beat; the air turns were fine. But at the landing timing, something wrong ran through the toe that drove into the ice. My balance collapsed with it, and I went down.
…What?
I was startled, but I got up at once and carried the program on. Falling on a landing was something even Olympic gold medalists did all the time. What mattered was not breaking the program — finishing it through. I completed a clean sit spin as the music ended.
And then, from the supervisor:
"Cha Seolhwa — failed free skating. Unsuccessful double Axel landing."
Failure on a landing. Unlike the earlier technical checks, free skate didn't give a second chance if you failed. That meant waiting until the next exam.
"That wasn't my fault."
At my words, the supervisor who had just declared the fail turned back.
"You're still young, so these things happen. Failing a Level 5 attempt at your age isn't strange. There will be another chance—"
"The ice quality is off."
"Excuse me?"
"The promotion exam operating conditions say ice quality issues are not the skater's responsibility."
The supervisor's face went thoughtful for a moment.
"Wait here a moment."
She fetched her own skates, took a full lap of the rink, and then—
"…Under the referee supervisor's authority, I am suspending the promotion exam and ordering ice resurfacing. Competitor number five, Cha Seolhwa, may retake free skating if she wishes."