National Championships (4)
'Nice.'
That was Han Jinsung's assessment as he broke down Jin Sehee's program.
4S+3T, 3F+3Lo, 3S, 3F, 3Lz, 2A, 4T.
It was a strong layout, fully worthy of the confidence she had carried onto the ice. There had been a few misses, but she had packed the jump content with deliberate difficulty from the start—not a solo quad Salchow, but a combination—and closed with a quad toe loop for the final statement. For a skater aiming at the title, it was as complete a construction as one could ask for.
Skater No. 1, Jin Sehee: 124.2 points. Currently in first place.
The stands stirred the moment the score dropped, as if they had been waiting for it. Vibrant presentation married to high-difficulty jump content—junior in spirit yet not junior in ambition. Those two qualities locked together and made Jin Sehee the clear protagonist of the opening free skate.
"She's really good."
"Both combination jumps were insane."
Through the murmur of the crowd, Han Jinsung gave a slow nod. Jin Sehee's back, just leaving the ice after her free skate, looked solid, unshaken.
"What do you think?" Yu Hyungyeong asked from the seat beside him.
Han Jinsung was quiet for a moment before he answered.
"She skated well. The double Axel, though—that was a little disappointing."
"True… It looked like she set the Axel aside to work the other jumps."
She had earned a perfect GOE on the quad Salchow, but the double Axel had landed with a small edge error. Not a major deduction, yet it exposed a clear vulnerability. The step sequence had also been a shade underwhelming.
"For a junior debut, isn't this the kind of skater the federation should be recruiting?"
Yu Hyungyeong answered with a silence that meant agreement. Chloe's debut free-skate score had been 119; Chloe had, of course, collected more short-program points by landing triples there. Even allowing for that, the fact remained: in the free skate, Jin Sehee had beaten Chloe.
"Everyone came out with their blades sharpened this year."
A subtle pleasure lit Yu Hyungyeong's eyes. For someone who dreamed of popularizing the sport, this upward leveling of quality was welcome news.
"I suppose."
Han Jinsung, by contrast, felt only that the fourth skater was finally done. He shifted his gaze just as the announcer's voice rolled through the arena.
Next up, skater No. 5: Cha Seolhwa.
In that instant, the waiting room, the stands, even the judges' panel—everyone drew a fine, collective breath. Even the broadcast commentators fell silent for a beat.
Han Jinsung inhaled deeply.
"At last…"
Cha Seolhwa stepped onto the ice. Her footfalls were almost soundless, yet that very silence seized the stage. From the gate she walked along the path of light, her silhouette sharpening with every step—sparkling costume, ribbon at the end of her tied hair, and eyes fixed forward without the slightest tremor.
Han Jinsung narrowed his brow and nodded, very slowly.
"…That expression again."
"The eyes of someone who is completely ready," Yu Hyungyeong added quietly, just as the music began.
Until now, my rival had been Cha Yunsung—my past self. The goal had always been to skate better than he had. There was personal challenge in that, yes, but also an unspoken assumption: the women I would compete against simply could not jump the way I could.
But right now—certainty.
Watching Jin Sehee's program had given me certainty. Chloe, Jin Sehee… probably the others as well. They were growing faster than anything I had known.
If they can already show me that…
Of course, if you tore the program apart frame by frame, it was still full of wounds and rough edges. The Axel's finish was low; even the quads were nowhere near perfect GOE. Yet if she could already jump like that, how far would she go in two years—no, in one?
I felt again that the competitive fire Jin Sehee had always shown me was never mere childish bravado.
This is fun.
Today, more than usual, the simple fact of stepping onto this stage felt good. The premonition of a clean skate. No—the conviction.
I set my toes to an invisible line and began to arrange the angles and timing of the jumps in my head, following the flow.
Match the melody.
The music for this program was Abyss—a piece that opened in dark, deep tones and gradually climbed, tracing the bottom of emotion. Exactly the kind of music I preferred: the type that controlled feeling and raised it slowly.
The introduction began. A low violin note scraped across the floor; above it, piano filled the space. The entire rink held its breath. Only my movement cut through the air.
I lifted my upper body slowly, fingertips unfurling from low to high with the music's current. First stroke. The moment I changed feet and turned, the trail drawn on the ice spread outward in silence. I shaped the path, metering speed for one strong takeoff. Eyes forward—toward the judges' seats. I pressed deep into the left blade, coiled, and rose into the air. The axis of rotation locked perfectly into place. The flight lasted only an instant, yet the sensation inside it stretched long. Weight settled evenly onto the toe pick. Landing.
Triple Axel—clean.
I left just enough room to connect into a spin if needed, then moved straight into the next phrase. A stir ran through the stands; I did not register it. This was my stage, my time, my breath alone.
I shifted weight on the beat and flowed quickly into the next takeoff. A short, gripping step bit into the ice. I drew that power straight up into four high-speed rotations. Stillness in the air—the world's sound erased at the center of the spin. Then I set down without strain, cleanly.
Quad toe loop—clean.
My heart hammered, yet my mind was strangely clear. The jump content was already written into my body; all that remained was to call each one out in time with the music—simple work.
I eased the speed for a moment, matched left and right, lowered my torso, and let my fingertips fall as if drawing them toward the floor. I prepared to launch the next element—
…If I jump it like this—
Perhaps I had sunk too deep into the performance. My feet tangled for a fraction of a second. The planned order was triple Lutz + triple loop. If I forced it now, the Lutz would fail and take the loop with it. I scraped an edge and threw a solo triple loop instead.
It's fine.
Officially, only coach and skater know the planned layout until the program ends. That means mid-program changes cost nothing. If you can add something on the fly, add it. If you cannot jump it, leave it out. That is figure skating.
So what I had to do right now was—
Now.
I drove power into my legs and jumped. The original timing had been a solo triple flip, but—
One more.
The instant I landed I half-turned and threw again. Triple flip + triple Lutz combination. I used the Lutz I had missed earlier, right here. A half-turn cheat, yes—but it worked.
Recovery complete.
I cut a wide curve across the front of the rink. Gaze distant, breath deep. I dug a deep edge on the left blade, twisted the body, and rose. Four rotations. No mid-air wobble, landing steady and unforced.
Quad loop—clean.
Then into the step sequence. I lowered my torso and drew lines across the ice as if sketching with a blade. Trails fell like snow; turns and travel blended in a single fluid stream.
Two left.
Next was the triple toe loop. I circled calmly, found the timing. My heart gave one heavy beat—and I jumped.
Triple toe loop—clean.
And the final highlight. I pushed the blades hard, gathering speed across the ice.
When I land this—
What will everyone do? How will Jin Sehee, who said she would beat me, feel? The judges scoring me? The crowd watching?
Look at me. And acknowledge it.
Whatever reaction came—even a negative one—I did not care. I wanted it. Any response at all, so long as it recognized that I was here.
Fatigue screamed in my legs. But the dopamine flooding my head erased the pain. What remained was only the compulsion to jump.
I pressed an edge and drew a slow arc. Every sound on the rink seemed cut away; every sense inside my body gathered into one point.
It began with the triple Axel. I loaded deep into the knees, harvested the spring, and rose. The axis locked the instant I left the ice. Arms pulled in, three and a half turns, and my eyes lined up precisely with the ice. Tuk—the blade kissed the surface. A landing so precise it almost dazzled.
Before the afterglow could fade I changed feet. What I jumped was a single loop. But when the jumps that follow are a Salchow and then a flip, its name changes. Because it is used only as a connector, the jump loses its own name.
The Euler.
Then the preparatory motion, immediate. A slight twist of the chest, body fixed with half a movement, center transferred. Pelvis turned, rotation axis found. I wrung every last drop of speed, drove the toe into the ice, and launched.
Four rotations. Landing.
3A+Eu+4S.
The highest combination I could jump right now.