Chapter 13
Chapter 13
‘Do I… have to carry this myself?’
Clutching this heavy Go board while struggling, transferring between subway lines on the way home.
My vision went blank.
“Um… is delivery possible for this?”
I asked with an awkward smile.
“No. Event prizes must be given on-site.”
Ah, I’m screwed.
The excitement instantly cooled, and reality hit like cold water.
“…Then you can hold onto it until after the finals, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
The staff member told me to come back later and placed it in a corner of the booth.
I decided to put the Go board out of my mind for now.
What I needed to focus on was the upcoming final match.
“Huh? That person…”
My gaze drifted past the booth.
Over to one side, two familiar figures were standing and talking.
Kang Hyuk, 9-dan, who had announced the puzzle winner.
And across from him, one of the semifinalists who had been sitting near me earlier.
A body as skinny as an anchovy, a turtle neck posture. Straight eyebrows and round glasses.
The kind of face people would say looks like a top-tier gamer.
‘Do they know each other?’
They seemed quite close.
The man bowed politely, and Kang Hyuk lightly patted his shoulder in encouragement.
If that man was my final opponent—
‘…I shouldn’t let my guard down.’
I didn’t know much about the culture or hierarchy of the Go world.
But being acquainted with a 9-dan like Kang Hyuk likely meant he was more than just skilled.
When I returned to the match hall, the branch manager greeted me warmly.
“Staff Kim, where did you go?”
“I just went to the restroom for a bit…”
As I trailed off, the branch manager handed me an energy tonic.
“Here, drink this. Playing back-to-back games must be exhausting. This is the best for recovering fatigue.”
“Thank… you.”
I was still a bit dazed.
It was hard to believe that just because of Go, he could show me this much goodwill.
‘It doesn’t feel bad.’
A feeling of being acknowledged, respected.
The tonic was lukewarm, but it felt refreshing as it went down.
The branch manager quickly took the empty bottle from me.
“I’ll throw this away. You just focus on the game.”
Feeling awkward from the endless encouragement, I took my seat.
Before long, I faced my final opponent.
‘As expected… it’s that guy.’
The man with the turtle neck posture who had been talking with Kang Hyuk.
If I remembered correctly, the name on the bracket was Han Taemin.
“Are you Kim Inha and Han Taemin?”
“Yes.”
“That’s me.”
Perhaps because it was the finals, a tournament official personally came to confirm our identities.
“Then please begin the match.”
I moved the Go bowls from the center of the board down to my side.
Clatter.
Han Taemin grabbed a handful of stones and cast them onto the board.
‘Even.’
I guessed correctly.
There were eight black stones.
I took white.
“Please take care of me.”
“I hope to learn from you.”
With Han Taemin taking black, the finals began.
Tap.
His first move was a small knight’s enclosure in the lower left corner.
I responded normally with a star point in the upper right.
The usual development would be for black to take one of the remaining corners.
But Han Taemin didn’t.
‘He’s already approaching my star point?’
He was testing my reaction and planning his opening based on it.
A typical probing move.
‘That’s a bit irritating.’
I picked up a stone.
And didn’t respond.
Ignore.
Instead, I quietly took the remaining lower right corner.
‘What will you do?’
Now the situation had flipped.
I was the one asking the question, and Han Taemin had to answer.
“…”
A brief silence.
That alone was enough.
‘It must have bothered him.’
Across from me, Han Taemin didn’t move right away and fell into thought.
Only five moves in.
In a fast game with a ten-minute limit, he used up a full minute.
Tap.
He responded with a double approach against my single white stone.
An aggressive move rather than a stable one.
My lone white stone now looked isolated and vulnerable from the start.
It was a move declaring he wouldn’t give up control of the game.
But I didn’t follow his intentions either.
I tenuki’d again and took the last remaining corner.
Neither provocation nor avoidance—just a practical move.
‘You won’t be able to follow my flow.’
The initiative was already in my hands.
Inside the tournament organizer’s booth.
Jang Yuna, 2-dan, sat down and rubbed her shoulders.
“Ugh, I’m tired.”
Not something you’d expect from someone only thirty, but it had been a packed schedule.
Two autograph sessions.
Hosting the special event.
Even a simultaneous exhibition match.
And in the evening, she still had a regular streaming session at the studio.
If she hadn’t been maintaining her stamina with consistent Pilates, she would’ve collapsed from exhaustion.
“More importantly, why isn’t this ‘NoName’ guy checking his messages?”
Jang Yuna grumbled as she logged into Three Kingdoms Go on her phone.
Looking at NoName’s record, he had been playing several games a day.
Of course, all wins.
At this rate, a double promotion to 7-dan seemed likely.
She was planning a “viewer match revenge” content around that timing.
But the problem was—
‘I can’t reach him!’
She had already sent more than three messages.
No reply.
He hadn’t even read them.
If he had at least read them, she could send another, but it seemed like he didn’t even know they existed.
“PD Heo will figure it out. Let’s just head out.”
Stretching, she grabbed her bag and left the booth.
She didn’t forget to smile and greet a few participants who recognized her.
Although she hadn’t left a major mark as a professional Go player—
‘I’m satisfied.’
Through events, streaming, and her personal channel, she maintained a pretty decent income.
Just then—
“Huh? That’s Instructor Kang.”
In the distance, Kang Hyuk, 9-dan, stood watching a game with his arms crossed.
She had been meaning to greet him.
But after waiting over ten minutes and not seeing him, she had been about to leave.
‘…I should say hello before I go.’
She turned and walked toward him.
Up close, his expression was heavy and serious.
It wasn’t easy to approach him.
He looked as if he were deep in thought, like during an official match.
‘What kind of game is this?’
This wasn’t even the national top division—just the Gyeonggi top division.
Clearly a tier below.
She had heard that one of his former trainees was participating.
But knowing Kang Hyuk’s personality—strictly separating personal relationships from game quality—there was no way he’d watch this long just for that.
That meant the game itself had captured him.
Curiosity as a professional Go player drew Jang Yuna in as well.
‘What is this?’
The game, already in the middle stage, was complex.
There was almost no clean structure or shape.
Unsettled groups from both sides were tangled everywhere, making it hard to judge the situation.
‘I can’t even guess the sequence. What kind of game is this?’
She became absorbed.
Watching, and watching again.
Digging deeper.
What was fascinating was that there was order within the chaos.
A scattered flow.
Yet a clear current ran through it.
‘Both are playing at a high level. Especially…’
Jang Yuna slightly turned her head.
A familiar face.
It was Kim Inha, the puzzle event winner from earlier.
‘He plays unpredictable moves, yet never loses balance.’
Recently, Go study had been based on AI.
After Lee Sedol’s historic match against an AI program, the paradigm of Go research had changed.
Joseki were broken.
Efficiency became more important than shape.
Thickness was redefined.
In this AI-influenced era—
Inha’s white stones felt… different.
Like AI, they broke from convention, yet were intuitive and strangely persuasive.
‘Why does this feel familiar? Ah… that time!’
Her eyes sharpened.
The “viewer match” from not long ago.
A mere amateur 5-dan who not only played evenly against her—
But crushed her.
The viewer named “NoName.”
Tap.
White’s next move was placed.
An insertion.
A move that seemed to pierce through the unorganized board.
It was familiar.
Familiar enough to send chills down her spine.
And that made the sense of unease even stronger.
‘Could this person be…?’
She knew.
There were countless players and countless strong ones.
And she hadn’t even watched this game from the beginning.
But—
A professional’s instinct told her.
Unpredictable moves.
The feeling of having your next move read.
The power to control the entire board and erase the will to resist.
It resembled the Go of “NoName” that her body and mind remembered all too well.
“I resign.”
My final opponent, Han Taemin, declared defeat through gritted teeth.
“Good game.”
I bowed politely.
‘He’s good.’
First impressions weren’t wrong.
His skill felt roughly on par with Jang Yuna, 2-dan.
That meant around 8 or 9-dan in Three Kingdoms Go terms.
‘But at this level… isn’t that sandbagging?’
By any standard, he was beyond the tournament’s 4–6 dan limit.
As if he sensed my thoughts—
“…I used to be a regional trainee. Quit because of my parents.”
Han Taemin gave a bitter smile as he arranged the stones.
“Got a job, and recently started playing again. I don’t have an official rank, and I’m still 6-dan in Three Kingdoms Go.”
I silently watched him, then nodded.
That explained it.
He met the eligibility requirements.
‘Man… I keep getting suspicious.’
After dealing with someone like Shin Byeongha in my first tournament, full of cheating—
It was like distrust toward people had taken root.
“No wonder you’re good… you were a trainee.”
“It was just regional. Compared to me, your Go is far more impressive.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I barely held on, but eventually collapsed.”
Han Taemin smiled.
Strangely refreshed.
The expression of someone who lost, but accepted it fully.
“Where did you learn Go?”
“Ah, I’m self-taught.”
I gave a plausible answer.
I couldn’t exactly say I suddenly gained talent one day.
“Self-taught?”
“Yes. About two years.”
“…Two years?”
His reaction was odd.
As if he couldn’t tell whether I was telling the truth.
‘Did I overdo it?’
Worried I might have slipped, I finished arranging the stones and bowed.
“Good game.”
“Good work.”
With that, the match was completely over, and I finally noticed my surroundings.
Maybe because it was the finals—
A large crowd had gathered.
I saw the branch manager looking thrilled at my victory, and beside him, Branch Manager Do and Assistant Manager Jung with sour expressions.
And then—
“Hello.”
A calm voice, sharp eyes.
A suit jacket that emphasized her figure without being excessive.
‘Wait… that’s Jang Yuna, 2-dan?’
Why was she here?
“Excuse me. By any chance…”
She looked at me intently.
“Are you NoName?”