Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Checkmate and Homecoming
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Alexei's face flushed bright red.
He felt utterly humiliated that his own words had been thrown right back at him. But true to form as a first-rate chess player, he quickly pulled himself together.
"Of course. Naturally, I'll have to put something on the line too."
Alexei glanced at the spoils he'd claimed. Then, like a salesman presenting his wares, he held out his hand palm up.
"How about all of these?"
"Huh? All of them?"
Seo-ha asked in surprise.
"Yeah, but there's a condition."
"I'm listening."
"If you lose, sign my chessboard. Write, 'I gave it my all, but I could never beat Alexei.' Something like that."
For a split second, Seo-ha recalled what Woo-hyun had once said.
'Say you grow up to be this brilliant mathematician who solves a Millennium Prize Problem. Then some Russian punk goes on TV saying Yoo Seo-ha's chess skills were nothing special, that he wasn't even a match for me.'
He shuddered.
If given the chance, Alexei would absolutely trot out that chessboard as evidence, just like Woo-hyun predicted.
"Why would you want something like that?"
Still, he double-checked just in case.
"Kid—no, Seo-ha. You seem like you've got a real shot at becoming a big deal someday. Honestly, I bet everyone here thinks the same."
Alexei looked around.
A few people who'd been especially friendly toward Seo-ha suddenly turned away with awkward expressions.
Alexei smirked at them.
"So, what do you say? Still want to go for it?"
Looking at Alexei's serious face, Seo-ha nodded.
"Of course! I'm not going to lose."
Since practicing with Woo-hyun, Seo-ha had diligently studied chess. He had a few strategies he'd prepared and was eager to test them out.
"Good. But fair warning—I'm terrible at blitz chess. The more time I have to think, the stronger I get. So you'd better stay sharp."
Alexei had never been great at speed chess, even as a kid. He'd often lost to opponents he could have beaten easily with just a little more time.
"Then how about classic instead of rapid?"
Rapid gives each player 10 to 60 minutes; classic is 60 or more.
Alexei was taken aback by Seo-ha's suggestion, which actually favored him.
"What?"
Was it bravado?
If so, Alexei planned to punish him harshly. But Seo-ha's next words were nothing like he'd expected.
"I want to face you at your strongest."
The smile vanished from Alexei's face.
"Don't come crying later if you regret it?"
In the first game, Alexei had underestimated Seo-ha and hadn't played his best. It wasn't unreasonable—he was just a kid with little experience. But now he was at full strength.
And in classic time controls, he was confident he could beat anyone.
"Even if I lose, I won't."
Alexei nodded.
He'd seemed like a mild-mannered little kid, but he was a man worth respecting.
"You know what? Now I really want your signature on my board."
"I'll do my absolute best to make sure that doesn't happen."
Alexei began resetting the chessboard.
"Classic it is—real swordfight. You both ready?"
Hans asked as he reset the clock.
Seo-ha and Alexei nodded in unison.
"Then, begin!"
Coin toss gave Alexei white, Seo-ha black.
Tak.
Alexei opened with e4.
King's Pawn Opening—the most classic and aggressive start. It was the same as the previous game, but the feel was entirely different.
Seo-ha thought for a moment before responding with c5. Sicilian Defense.
"Sicilian, huh..."
Alexei muttered softly.
An opening that favored complex tactical battles over balance. A sign Seo-ha didn't want a straightforward game.
Alexei started burning time right from the opening, reading lines deeply.
After ten minutes of thought, he played Nf3. And from there, his true skill began to shine.
Brian, the Kentucky champion, was estimated at 2,100 rating. Alexei, who'd beaten him in a format that wasn't his specialty, had to be over 2,300. Just 200 points shy of grandmaster.
With ample time, Alexei was formidable.
Unlike the previous game, where he'd relied on experience and patterns, now he took his time on every move, gradually seizing control of the entire board.
As the game passed move 15, Seo-ha realized he was in a far tougher spot than anticipated.
'This guy's really strong.'
His intentions were being read in advance.
"Bd3."
Alexei developed his bishop, targeting Seo-ha's kingside. It looked simple, but complex calculations lay behind it.
The watching students hurriedly grabbed chessboards and began replaying the moves.
"Isn't that move fatal?"
"No, look—if you do this..."
"Alexei's winning 6-4, no, 7-3."
Meanwhile, Seo-ha felt a powerful internal urge building.
He hadn't given Ducky any playtime all day.
The pent-up frustration swirled wildly, seeking an outlet. With every piece moved, his instincts tried to calculate every possibility.
'Alright, Ducky. Go wild.'
Seo-ha flipped the compulsion switch.
And began focusing fiercely on the board.
Tok, tok.
His fingers drummed rhythmically on the table.
In his mind, the chessboard unfolded like a 3D hologram.
Seo-ha's perception shifted completely. No longer an 8x8 grid, but 64 coordinate points linked in a complex vector network—a mathematical space.
Each piece's position showed real-time calculations of all possible moves: knight in 8 L-shaped vectors, bishop along infinite diagonals, rook in vertical-horizontal crosses.
Ducky's obsessive perfection made it all possible.
21 possible moves from the current position, 18 responses from Alexei each, 378 total lines for two moves ahead.
But Seo-ha didn't stop there.
Three moves, four, five—the exponentially growing possibilities formed a massive structure in his mind.
Pro players typically see 8 to 12 moves ahead. Seo-ha was calculating over 20 simultaneously.
Win rates updated in real time for each choice, yielding the optimal path. But the game was already tilted; he needed an opponent blunder.
'Found it.'
A single chance in the middlegame: a windmill tactic, where knight and rook repeatedly check and capture enemy pieces.
50-50 odds, but worth the gamble.
A counterattack opportunity while Alexei pressed the queenside.
Tok.
Seo-ha moved his piece.
"Huh?"
The students replaying the game looked baffled.
"Blunder?"
"Game over?"
"No answer to that."
Gasps rose from the gallery. It looked like an obvious losing move.
Alexei glanced at Seo-ha in surprise, then calmly advanced to finish the game.
But Seo-ha didn't flinch.
As play continued, Alexei's attack was blocked more easily than expected. Even positions where he'd anticipated big gains somehow fizzled into minimal results.
Still, Alexei was confident of victory. Seo-ha's queenside was exposed, his own pieces perfectly placed.
Alexei pushed his queen forward. Qh5+.
That was when it happened.
Tak!
Seo-ha's knight leaped to d4.
"What?"
With his queen out for attack, Alexei's king defense had loosened just a fraction.
Not calculating deeply because he thought victory was assured—that was the mistake.
Alexei furrowed his brow and furiously calculated. Then he realized.
Seo-ha's moves, which he'd dismissed as desperate, were all camouflage for the windmill.
One moment of carelessness led to disaster.
The knight pinned the queen, which couldn't move. Bishops and rooks triple- and quadruple-attacked the king. Meanwhile, the knight danced across the board.
"Check."
Tak.
"Check."
Rook, bishop, queen.
Seo-ha systematically dismantled Alexei's heavy pieces.
"How many moves ahead did he see? 15?"
Hans muttered in disbelief.
"No, way more."
Brian replied in a trembling voice.
"You think a player like Alexei falls for a gimmick like windmill easily? He had to have seen at least 20 moves, and with psychological pressure too.
Kid showed weakness, so Alexei got greedy. I'd have pushed the queen too."
Finally, Seo-ha's knight delivered the last check.
"Checkmate."
Seo-ha's quiet declaration echoed.
No escape left. All paths blocked by Seo-ha's pieces.
Alexei looked up at Seo-ha and gave a faint smile.
"I resign."
By now, students who'd heard the rumors crowded the lobby. They'd gathered around the board, offering their own analyses.
At Alexei's concession, they erupted in cheers.
"Woooaaah!"
"Kid won!"
"Insane windmill!"
Do-kyung, who'd been watching from the corner, rushed out, jumping with joy.
As the cheers filled the air, Seo-ha's awareness gradually returned to reality. He adjusted the slightly crooked board to align parallel with the table.
"That was impressive. You totally tricked me."
Alexei offered his hand.
"It was fun."
Seo-ha shook it with a bright smile.
The world of chess was deeper and more profound than he'd imagined. Alexei had instinctively avoided danger spots that Seo-ha hadn't even calculated. It had thrown off his lines and caused headaches.
"Mind if I borrow a pen for a sec?"
Alexei blinked in confusion at Seo-ha's request. Seo-ha took the marker, flipped the board, and wrote:
[Alexei, the best chess player I've ever met]
Alexei read it and grimaced.
"You said you've only played one other person!"
"Still makes you the best."
Alexei gave a wry smile at Seo-ha's words.
"When you get famous later, make sure you say that."
The snacks piled on the table returned to their original owners. But with all the thank-you gifts, the Korean team enjoyed a lavish final party.
On the bus to the airport,
Everyone wore loose, goofy grins.
"That happy about it?"
Soo-jung shot him a glare, but Do-kyung stroked his bronze medal around his neck like it was precious, oblivious.
"Overall second place! Second! How much better than last year! Especially Ji-hoon!"
Korea took 2 golds, 1 silver, 3 bronzes for second overall. Shockingly, the silver went to Sung Ji-hoon.
"I hung around Seo-ha the whole time with the UK team. Learned a ton."
Ji-hoon, who'd matured noticeably over the IMO, bowed humbly.
"Man, when they called my name at the ceremony, I was shocked."
"I thought I bombed."
"Me too."
All three seniors snagged bronzes. The third-years beamed with contentment, ending on a high note.
"But Seo-ha was the real star, of course."
Everyone nodded at Soo-jung's words.
"Didn't expect them to grade so generously."
Problems 4 and 5, scribbled in haste, deducted just 1 point each.
With a perfect 40, Seo-ha claimed individual first at the IMO.
From what he'd seen online, Korea was in full festival mode. First Olympiad gold in years—and from the youngest-ever at 12.
Soo-jung recalled the moment.
The IMO chair took the podium, calling medalists one by one.
"Gold Medal Winners,
Seoha Yu, Chen Lui, Sujeong Lim, Hans Müller, Alexei Volkov···. And Seoha Yu achieved the highest score!”
"I took third this time."
But Soo-jung considered herself true second. She'd long written Seo-ha off as in a league of his own.
"The Chinese kids had good sportsmanship, though."
The seniors nodded at Chang-seok's comment.
"Lui Chen? Didn't expect her to congratulate us first. Felt sorry for us after no medals last year?"
"Their team leader and coach looked pissed."
The bus reached the airport, and they boarded.
After a twelve-hour flight, they landed in Korea at morning.
Good results drew a decent media crowd.
One reporter rushed up, thrusting a mic at the students.
"First off, congratulations on the great results.
Word is the Chinese side has lodged a protest over the grading of Yoo Seo-ha, the individual gold winner. Any idea about that?"
"“What?””
The triumphant returnees froze in front of the cameras, faces blank.