Proof of Existence (4)
"You did so well! You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"
The instant I stepped off the rink, Yerim checked every inch of me.
A single competition carried a far greater risk of injury than hundreds of practice sessions, so her fussing was only natural for a coach.
"I'm not hurt. Nothing hurts at all."
"Really? You still had stamina left, that much was clear. I planned the program myself and still wondered if the difficulty was too high. Seriously."
Yerim laughed and patted my cheeks with both hands, pride and emotion tangled across her face.
Normally I would have dodged, but today I simply let her.
"You can praise me more if you want."
"Huh…?"
Today's performance had been a perfect hundred in my own judgment.
I squared my shoulders and gave a firm nod.
"…Ah, yeah. You did really well…"
Yerim fumbled through the compliment, nothing like her usual self.
She always gushed with excitement whenever I did something worth praising, yet the moment I stepped forward and claimed it myself she turned awkward every single time.
Well, that reaction is pretty fun in its own way.
We talked about the program as we walked, and soon reached the Kiss & Cry.
Waiting for us there was—
…Still hasn't left.
Chloe and her coach, still occupying their seats.
At least she's not crying.
Our eyes met.
She sat as neatly as ever, her expression close to blank.
But her posture was wrong.
Shoulders locked rigid, a flash of fluster darting through her pupils—the look of someone desperately holding a shattered pride together by force.
She hadn't broken down weeping the way Jin Sehee had the first time she lost to me.
Even so, it was easy to see that her pride had cracked.
"Let's go."
The coach, sharing the same golden hair as Chloe, spoke with open scorn and left without waiting, abandoning her skater where she sat.
As if there was nothing more to say to an athlete who had lost. Chloe trailed after her, at a loss.
In truth, that was the ordinary relationship between coach and skater in figure skating.
Most coaches chose heavy-handed control when dealing with young athletes who needed care.
Yerim and I are the strange ones.
Yerim sometimes acted weird, but as a coach she was perfect—solid career, top-tier coaching skill, and no serious flaws in character.
Once Chloe and her coach vanished in silence, Yerim and I took our places in the Kiss & Cry.
As always, the moment layered tension over release.
I leaned back against the cold plastic chair, took the water bottle Yerim offered, and drank.
The pulse of my heart felt sharper than the water sliding down my throat.
The next skater hadn't started yet; the screen was replaying my performance.
No emotional elements… the axis wavered a little at the end, though.
3Lz+3T, clean landing.
3Lo, the rotation axis shook slightly, but not enough for a deduction.
Every double that followed was clean.
Final combination 2A+2Lo+3F—there was a brief wobble, but it should be fine.
This was an elementary division competition; a shaky axis wasn't under-rotation or a fall. The deduction wouldn't be large.
3Lz+3T – 3Lo – 3S – 2Lz – 2S – 2A – 2A+2Lo+3F
I reviewed every jump like a technician while watching myself on the screen.
Expressionless, yet full of certainty.
"Seolhwa, it's coming."
Yerim whispered.
The video cut out. The distinctive transition chime sounded as the score window appeared.
TES, Technical Element Score: 62.12.
PCS, Program Component Score: 32.50.
Total: 94.62.
Adding my jumps and skating skills, a clean technical base would have been 50.90.
At my current level the difficulty was already high, so a clean skate alone would have been more than enough.
I picked up positive GOE too.
Judges can award Grade of Execution bonuses for preparation, air time, jump angle, and landing quality—extra points based on how well the element is performed, beyond mere success or failure.
Pulling in ten points of GOE felt excellent.
And a PCS of 32.50 was solidly high as well.
A thoroughly satisfying score.
Jin Sehee had 83.10, Chloe 85.40, right?
Both scores were high enough to call either of them a world-class prospect.
But too bad. They were born in the era of Cha Seolhwa.
While I was thinking that, Yerim checked the numbers again and—
"Aaaah! Seolhwa, ninety-four! Ninety-four! You broke ninety!"
Even with cameras rolling she bounced in her seat and threw her arms around me.
The analytical face from moments earlier bloomed into a child's pure delight.
I beat them.
Jin Sehee and Chloe both carried talent, careers, and the spotlight on their backs.
And I had beaten them. Me—the one no one had expected anything from.
(Photo of Cha Seolhwa's competition record showing 94.62)
I only tuned in because Chloe was skating today
Next skater drops a 94.62 lmao
She's eight and throwing everything except the triple Axel holy crap
(Photo of Cha Seolhwa on the top of the podium)
What else? She went dark because she's just that good
Comes back, passes Level 5 on the spot, then wins the elementary division lol whoa
Everyone was losing their minds calling Chloe and Jin Sehee once-in-a-generation prospects
(Chloe's triple Axel)
(Cha Seolhwa's triple Lutz + triple toe loop)
On pure jump difficulty Chloe with the triple Axel is ahead
But look at the protocols—Chloe took massive deductions for under-rotation and landing errors
Being able to attempt it is impressive, sure, but Seolhwa's protocol is basically perfect
And if you compare her five-year-old competition to this one, she's been no-miss (zero deductions) the whole time
She's three years younger and already like this. The second she learns the triple Axel the gap's only going to get wider
"My daughter already winning championships… you're incredible. What do I do? Mommy might cry."
"Don't cry."
I stepped down from the podium and went to my parents to show off the medal.
The victor's privilege—anyone looking could tell at a glance who had won the competition and taken first place.
It wasn't real gold, but the medal in my hand still shone with warm yellow light.
Mom fought back tears of pride while Dad ruffled my hair like he couldn't be prouder.
While I was still riding the high of victory—
"Hey, Cha Seolhwa!"
Urgent footsteps pounded up from behind.
Of course it was Jin Sehee.
She spotted my parents standing beside me and—
"Hello."
—bowed politely at the waist.
She really was a good kid.
Then she turned back to me.
"…Next time, I'm going to win."
"Your performance was good too."
"But it wasn't first place."
"You still got a medal, and the gap with second wasn't that big."
"Doesn't matter."
In her hand was a bronze medal—third place.
She had only been about two points behind Chloe in second, so the sting must have been real, yet she spoke as if second and third were the same thing.
"Next time I'm taking the gold."
"Okay."
"I mean it!"
Jin Sehee didn't cry or explode the way she had at her first competition.
What remained now was pure competitive fire—the drive of a real athlete who simply intended to win next time.
I stepped closer and said,
"Then let's go eat together."
"Huh?"
"Only first place gets prize money at this competition. My treat."
Of course the money wouldn't hit the account today, but I could always borrow from my parents for now.
"If you don't want to, forget it."
"What… are we eating?"
"Tonkatsu."
"Then I'm going! I want cheese tonkatsu!"
"No way. Basic only."
"You're so cheap!"
Watching Sehee charge toward me as she said it, the corner of my mouth lifted before I could stop it.
The kid who had only known how to cry the first time we met was now swallowing her tears and coming back for another fight. It suited her surprisingly well.
Strange.
I walked on, thinking.
What this new life offered wasn't just another chance.
It was the right to truly love my world—figure skating included.
And I was proving that right, one step at a time.
Slowly, but unmistakably.
On the ice and off it.
The simple fact of moving forward made me happy.
