Figure Skating (3)
At five years old, most kids would be in kindergarten, but I wasn't going.
The reason was simple enough. I was going to have to live through elementary school all over again anyway—what was the point of kindergarten on top of that?
Besides, spending time with the parents I'd found again was far more fun.
Maybe it was because I'd shown flashes of something close to a prodigy from early on, but when I said I didn't want to go, my parents simply nodded and said all right.
Which was why, even though it was a weekday afternoon, I was at home after lunch, pulling one of Father's martial arts novels from his collection when Mother spoke up.
"Sweetheart, want to go back to the rink we visited yesterday this weekend?"
"Hm?"
"You looked like you were having fun out there, and there's someone I need to meet briefly anyway."
My first thought was, Do we have to?
Sure, getting back on the ice after so long had been fun. But I wasn't planning to compete again. Why waste a precious weekend going back there?
There were TV shows that only aired on weekends, too…
"You don't want to go?"
I hesitated. Mother looked at me with gentle patience.
"If we do go, I was thinking we'd stop for pork cutlet on the way home."
"…!"
The pork cutlet Mother had just mentioned was no ordinary cutlet. It was the calorie-bomb cheese pork cutlet from the Japanese chef's place near our house—the one Father and I had sneaked off to eat on a day Mother was away on a business trip, only to get thoroughly scolded for it.
Mother usually banned dining out and delivery food in the name of health, so I hadn't had it since. And cheese pork cutlet, of all things!
"I'll go."
"Really? Then let's get something delicious on the way back."
I couldn't refuse pork cutlet.
So I waited and waited for the weekend, and at last Saturday arrived.
I was up early, getting ready.
"There's something I want you to try today."
Instead of the thick pink sweatshirt she'd put me in last week, Mother dressed me in a black tracksuit.
This was the same mother who normally dressed me in relentlessly cute clothes without compromise. Something felt off as I put it on and stepped in front of the mirror.
Still cute even like this.
Even in a plain black training set, some inexplicable air of refinement clung to me. Maybe fashion really did start and end with the face.
I'd built a following with a handsome face in my past life, but it couldn't hold a candle to what I had now.
A TS black-haired beauty really is overpowered.
I nodded in satisfaction at my reflection. Mother watched me with a fond look.
"Of course she's pretty—she's my daughter," she added for good measure.
"Shall we go, then?"
"What about Dad?"
"Dad said he's busy today."
Being the boss meant being busy was normal. I nodded and headed for the shoe cabinet, slipping into my favorite pair.
"Mom, Mom. Hurry."
No more time to waste.
Even after we arrived at the rink, my head was full of nothing but pork cutlet.
Should I get the regular one instead of the cheese?
I was still debating regular versus cheese as I laced up my skates.
And right then—
"Say hello. This is the teacher who will be watching Seolhwa skate today."
"…?"
A familiar face stood there.
Shin Yerim—World Championship silver medalist, the woman who had coached me in my past life.
Come to think of it…
Yerim Ice Rink.
Our first meeting had been at a rink near home too. She'd spoken to me while I was practicing alone. It had been so long ago, and becoming a child again had made me forget.
"Hello."
Since this was our first meeting in this life, I bowed politely.
"Hi there. Unnie saw you skating last time—you were really good."
She heaped praise on me as if trying to win me over, but—
…Being good is the bare minimum.
Hearing that I had talent for figure skating wasn't something I wanted to hear.
Back when I'd enjoyed it as a hobby without knowing I had any gift, it had simply been fun. But once I trusted myself enough to go pro, figure skating became something closer to a curse.
Jumps other skaters could land while I could not. Speeds others could generate while I fell behind. Every single technical element, every competition—it all left scars.
"…So you're trying to make me a figure skater?"
I lifted my head and looked at Yerim as I asked.
She pinched my cheeks as if she found me unbearably cute.
"Not right away. But if you try it and like it, Unnie can teach you."
"Then I don't want to."
"Right, figure skaters are cool and pretty so everyone wants to—wait, you don't?"
My answer froze Yerim in place. But what could she do? I had no intention of walking the same path in this life.
"U-uh? If you do it, you could even be on TV later, and your parents would be happy, you know?"
That wasn't true.
Figure skating was an aristocratic sport that burned through millions of won a month. Our family wasn't poor, but—
Having money is exactly the problem.
Father ran a company—not a conglomerate, but still—and Mother was a fairly well-known former fashion designer. A child born to parents like that taking up figure skating… In my past life I'd started late and still gotten flak for it, but—
People who want to tear you down don't care about the details.
To outsiders it would just look like a rich kid throwing money around. I remembered how hard that had made things for my parents last time, so I was ready to walk away.
"Cha Seolhwa."
Mother, who had been listening until now, called my full name. She usually said "my daughter" or just "Seolhwa"—never the family name. I looked up at her blankly.
"Is it that you want to try but there's some reason holding you back, or do you truly not want to do it at all?"
Seolhwa's mother, Yoon Jiyeon, loved her daughter.
Every parent loves their child, so that might sound obvious, but she truly adored her little girl. That adorable face that looked just like her own childhood self, the way she handled everything without being taught—
The only real worry was—
…Does she not like anything?
From early on, Seolhwa had almost no strong preferences. Aside from a clear fondness for meat and high-calorie food, that was it. She never begged for toys or cartoons the way other kids her age did. When she was bored she would wander into her husband's study and pull out a book, or turn on the TV alone—always with the air of someone simply killing time.
But here, at the ice rink, it was different.
The way she moved on the ice looked as natural as if she were saying she belonged there. The smile that had slipped onto Seolhwa's lips without her noticing was just the bonus.
After seeing that, any parent would know their daughter had an interest in figure skating.
On top of that, on the way home they had been approached by a coach with international medal credentials who wanted to recruit her.
At that point, not letting her try would have been the strange choice.
Once home, a little research showed that the two most important things in figure skating were money and talent. In their current situation, neither was a problem.
All that remained was Seolhwa's choice.
"I don't want to."
Even that answer made it instantly clear it wasn't a pure decision—something was holding her back.
"Cha Seolhwa. Is it that you want to try but there's some reason holding you back, or do you truly not want to do it at all?"
Only then did Seolhwa hesitate, her voice shrinking as she answered.
"It might be hard…"
"And?"
"And I don't want to be a burden on Dad and Mom…"
Her daughter saying that was so indescribably cute that Jiyeon had to fight the urge to scoop her up on the spot.
"If you really don't want to, that's fine. But it's also fine if you try and then quit."
"It's okay if I quit…?"
"Of course. If my daughter doesn't want to do something, she shouldn't have to."
"But figure skating costs a huge amount of money."
"You know Mom and Dad have plenty of money, right?"
The neighborhood they lived in was what people called a well-off area. Jiyeon was well aware that most of the children there ranked each other by money from a young age. And yet her daughter never asked for anything—that alone filled her with pride. Watching the girl hold back even from something she wanted for fear of being a burden was something she simply could not allow.
"Then, ma'am, how about this? I'll coach her for one month free of charge. Rink fees completely waived as well."
"Oh my, you really don't have to—"
"No! Just getting talent like this to start figure skating is more than enough for me. What do you say, Seolhwa? Want to try for one month with Unnie?"
Mother's words. Yerim's determination to turn me into a skater. And my own honest feelings on top of it all.
…I want to skate again.
I had to admit it.
Cha Yunsung, former men's singles figure skater. And Cha Seolhwa, five-year-old girl. Regardless of the body, I was a figure skater. The kind who felt freedom on the ice and pure exhilaration from a single successful jump after punishing my body.
"…Then I'll try for just one month."
"Yes! Unnie will teach you really well. Believe it or not, Unnie's a silver medalist!"
"Please take care of me."
"Then shall we start light with the basics today? You haven't had formal lessons, right?"
"No."
"Then I'll show you exactly how to move forward first. Ma'am, if you stay here you'll have a good view."
Leaving Mother behind, I stepped onto the ice.
The cold air. The constant sense that a slip could come at any moment.
"Feet opposite each other, knees slightly bent. Extend your right foot to the side and give a little push."
"Yes. So to keep going forward, I just alternate feet?"
"That's right, but no need to force it. Proper form matters more."
I listened to Yerim all the way through, then recalled her words and accelerated. One full lap later—
"…She really is a genius."
Yerim stared at me with a hollow look.
Silver medal?
I'd won one of those too.