Chapter 13
"Nine points? You're awfully confident. You must be pretty good at Go, huh?"
"No one in the Jegal family plays Go better than me. Nine points is the only way it'll even be a game. Enough talk—place your stones."
His voice brimmed with pride. Clearly, this old man had massive ego when it came to his specialties. I had no idea if he really was the best in the Jegal family, but he sure as hell wasn't a pushover.
I'd only planned to play a light game to cool my head anyway, so a few points handicap didn't matter. No need to ruffle the feathers of some prideful geezer and cause a scene.
I picked up a black stone between my thumb and index finger, then flicked it with my thumb. It landed boldly in the center of the board—tian yuan.
Not nine points. One.
One was plenty.
"Whoa~ What a coincidence. I'm the best at Go in my house too."
I pulled a strip of jerky from my robes—cut nice and long for easy snacking—and stuck it in my mouth.
Cheeky old fart. How dare you underestimate me. You're done for.
I'd been planning to show some elder respect, but nah—changed my mind. Time for elder abuse.
"But~ you don't know my skill, and I don't know yours. Nine points? Really?"
I cocked an eyebrow at the handsome old man, who was giving me a What the hell is this punk? look right back. I mirrored him, shoving my shameless face forward.
"I could've played even, but since you insisted, I'll take one point. This single handicap stone is my sign of respect for my senior."
"...You insolent brat. Do you even know who I am?"
A razor-sharp aura poured from the old man, slicing toward my throat like an invisible blade. No way this came from some random elder.
Tremendous presence. Maybe even on par with my masters.
Snow-white hair slicked back. Fierce eyes like a hawk eyeing prey. I'd known from his looks he wasn't ordinary, but damn—a martial arts master.
But it was fine. Sure, in a straight power contest I'd get pulverized down to the molecular level, but right now, a Go board sat between us.
I gritted my teeth, pinched my thigh hard to steady my mind, and leaned forward. I shoved back the formless blade and forced a twisted grin.
"You're the one playing white, obviously. I'm black. Enough talk—let's see who's better."
Jegal Yang scanned the impudent young punk up and down.
He had exactly two loves in the world: martial arts and Go.
When not honing his martial prowess, he played Go. When not playing Go, he sought out the strong for spars.
When had it started? Opponents across the board started simpering with fawning, ass-kissing games...
Infuriating. Humiliating.
Bribes, flattery, factions—he couldn't care less. Don't taint Go with your filthy desires. Don't touch the stones if you're not playing to win.
On the Go board, there were no strong or weak. Only stones that captured others.
In that sense, the cocky kid before him passed muster. No manners, but plenty of fight.
A real challenger after so long. Jegal Yang grinned and drew his sword of Go stones, charging into the battlefield of the board.
Tak.
A beautiful garden fit for celestial nymphs. But the two men's eyes and minds locked solely on the grid of lines and points on the wooden board.
A rundown pavilion hidden by lush flowers, ignored by passersby. The clear clack of stones meeting board echoed without cease.
⋯ ⋯ ⋯
How much time had passed? The satisfying tap of stones on the board fell silent.
Winner and loser decided.
By the board's state, Jegal Yang's crushing victory. But his face was stiff as he reviewed the game in his mind.
Not bad for a cocky punk. Defensive at first, then ferocious attacks like fire when chances opened.
Lucky he won the big clashes, or the board might've flipped.
Hmm~ Talented, but not trained under pro Go masters from childhood. Too gambler's flair for a pure player—more like a betting hustler.
His position meant most games were with stuffy types. Facing someone truly out to devour him? Rare treat.
From the start, holding firm against his aura marked him no ordinary kid. But this level? Impressive.
"Ughhh~!! This is rigged! Total BS! Why'd you play there? Fake game! Fake!! One more! Just one more!!"
...Definitely no ordinary kid.
Pathetic tantrum. The brat sprawled on the floor, pounding away without shame. After flicking stones all cool-like, losing stung bad.
Mad, huh? Mad you lost to me?
He hadn't played alone out of boredom—no lack of opponents. Jegal clansmen lined up to play him, hoping to catch his eye.
But their goal wasn't victory, just networking. He ignored them for solo play.
Games with no intent to win weren't wins. No fun.
This cocky kid? Fun. Before he knew it, a pleased smile tugged his lips.
For the next game, Jegal Yang cleared the board and placed four black stones.
"Even game for your level? Nah~ You're a four-pointer."
Savoring victory after ages, he unleashed some trash talk on the loser.
***
Smirk—smirk—
Damn geezer's shitty personality is why his grandkids ditch him. Next time I see him, he's toast.
"No axe handle rots while the fairy plays"—I'd zoned out so hard, the sun had set. Dinnertime.
Rule was: sun down, head home, eat. I left the annoying old man and returned to my room.
"Jang Sam! Food!"
"Y-yes. Prepping now. But where's Ohae?"
"...What? Ohae ain't back?"
"Yeah. Cleared the wood, and she was gone. Thought she'd come to you, young master."
Malnutrition made her stick to meals and snacks like clockwork. But she hadn't shown?
Come to think of it, the chick who'd normally trail me all day like a baby chick had been MIA.
This was Jegal territory, and Ohae bore the Jegal name—nothing to worry about.
...Right.
"Eat first. I'll grab something later."
As I geared up to head out, Jang Sam grinned slyly, poking at my insides.
"Gonna go find her? ~Such devotion."
"Shut it."
Clutching my growling stomach, I hobbled out on my staff.
First stop: the backyard where we'd last split, by the snapped tree. Nothing but the stump.
Thick trunk for a kid, but she punched it clean off. No way she'd gotten beat and was crying somewhere.
Kept moving. No sign.
Scoured the guest quarters. Nada.
Deep breath.
Jegal blood or not, Ohae's side-branch status limited her spots. No need to panic.
...But I couldn't eat till I found her. Better hustle.
Couldn't let on I knew martial arts, so stealthily unleashed lightness skill.
Ohae hated crowds—trauma from bullying. If hiding, it'd be a quiet garden nook.
Early spring turning warm; sweat poured with minimal effort.
Starving for this crap. Damn brat. When I find her, spanking incoming.
Cry all you want—no mercy.
***
Found Ohae.
Right where I figured: a secluded garden corner few visited.
Planned a scolding, but seeing her, words died.
Ohae stood under pouring moonlight, drilling Empty Brightness Fist thrusts.
Lush new grass in the garden. But around her, turf torn and gouged by countless steps.
Soaked in sweat. Body moved. Fist shot out. Moonlit droplets scattered.
I stood speechless at the stupid, absurd sight.
[...Learned enough. Time to practice solo. Hit 10,000 Grateful Empty Brightness Fist thrusts.]
...Idiot.
Filter what people tell you. Why follow orders so blindly? No doubts?
"Stop."
Meant to say it kindly, but ice came out.
Kind or cold—didn't matter. My voice didn't reach.
Ohae mechanically thrust with her exhausted body, chasing 10,000 reps.
Her dantian empty. Stamina gone. More was torture.
Yet she didn't stop.
"...I said stop!"
Voice rose in fury. Fists clenched tight.
Who was I mad at?
Nowhere for the rage to go—it echoed.
Still no stop. I grabbed her, forced her eyes on me.
Peered into half-conscious blues. First glance: endless ocean. Up close: serene lake, clear mirror.
Pure eyes. Reflecting a coward.
Big talk about teaching everything, then scared and running at the unexpected. Pathetic.
Her pupils flickered, recognizing me. Tail-wag puppy grin, then guilty kid—eyes down.
"...Sorry. Didn't hit 10,000 yet."
"...It's fine."
My trembling voice hit wrong. Her eyes shook.
"I-I can do it! I will! So... don't hate me."
Fists clenched. Wrung my heart for shameless confidence.
"...10,000 was a test. Yeah, to check your grit. You passed. Didn't think you'd actually nail it~ Impressive. ...Really impressive."
Reached out, gently stroked her head.
Feeling the warmth, she still fretted, lips mumbling.
"...Really?"
"Really."
"...Good."
Ohae collapsed into my arms, asleep—or passed out.
Whatever. Gazed down at the fragile little body.
Small and delicate. Cheeks still baby-plump, soft and springy.
Just a normal kid, any way you sliced it.