Chapter 18
Chapter 18
“...Mumyeong is losing?”
For a moment, her expression froze.
Mumyeong.
The viewer who had defeated her in an even match with completely unpredictable reading.
An amateur, yet not truly an amateur in skill.
She had assumed he was at least a research student on the verge of going pro, or a professional player hiding his identity.
Even in this match, she had easily predicted Mumyeong’s victory.
But now—
Mumyeong was being pushed back.
‘Who is his opponent?’
The nickname was Waryongja.
A Chinese amateur 7-dan.
Win rate over 70%.
That alone wasn’t particularly extraordinary.
There was no pro badge, so he wasn’t a professional player.
But from the sequence of moves alone, something felt off.
‘He can play like this?’
The opening was ordinary.
A stable style focused on extreme territory.
But the moment he gained an advantage, he began provocatively steering the game into fights.
Inha—no, Mumyeong—held balance and responded in kind.
Yet the overall flow was gradually tilting toward Black.
His movement was sharp yet heavy.
His control of pace was precise.
Once he seized the initiative, he never gave away even a single opening.
‘Something’s wrong. He’s too good. There’s no gap to exploit… wait, this can’t be…?’
A strange glint passed through Jang Yuna 2-dan’s eyes.
An unfamiliar, unsettling sensation.
The placement of stones was not just natural—it was eerily logical.
The source of that discomfort was starting to take shape.
Ding!
A manager message popped up on her screen.
Hur PD: Jang pro, check the chat!
Snapping back to her senses, Jang Yuna 2-dan looked at the chat.
Over two thousand viewers were in an uproar.
“Something feels off”
“I smell AI”
“Yeah this reeks of AI lol”
“Isn’t this cheating?”
“That last move was a blue spot”
“Yuna, run Hwasin”
At the viewers’ urging, Jang Yuna 2-dan opened her laptop.
She launched “Hwasin,” the paid AI analysis tool from the Samgukji Baduk platform.
Hwasin visualized the best moves—so-called blue spots—based on input sequences.
Depending on the version, it could show multiple blue spots and even real-time win rates.
“This guy is sneaky”
“He’s mixing it perfectly”
“That’s 100% AI”
“Where’s your conscience?”
“How does the platform not catch this?”
“Damn this is annoying”
The chat’s mood boiled with anger.
And for good reason.
Waryongja was using AI in a cunning way.
The best moves, blue spots.
Good moves, green spots.
He was mixing the two just enough to make it look human.
A perfectly disguised form of AI-assisted cheating.
However, not everyone in the chat agreed.
“He is not AI”
“Chinese players are honorable”
“Small countries should not envy great ones”
“Waryongja’s play is exquisite”
Reading the translated Chinese comments, Jang Yuna 2-dan felt her insides boil.
‘This is infuriating. They’re defending a cheater?’
She wanted to call it out directly.
Ask how they could support AI cheating.
But she couldn’t.
With the recent increase in Chinese viewers, she had to avoid dividing her audience.
“Alright everyone, let’s calm down. Whether it’s cheating or not, let’s observe a bit more—huh?”
Tak!
Just as she tried to regain control of the situation—
The flow began to change.
“That’s a blue spot!”
“Mumyeong is playing blue spots now too”
“He found that during byo-yomi?”
“Cheating against cheating?”
“I don’t think so”
“Meanwhile Yuna farming Chinese viewers lol”
Byo-yomi.
Time was tight.
The position was unfavorable.
And yet Mumyeong did not collapse.
No—
It was as if he knew the answer sheet, playing perfect moves that AI itself would recommend.
‘T-this makes no sense.’
Jang Yuna 2-dan couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Creative moves that broke away from standard patterns.
Flexible yet efficient shapes.
Inha was playing a completely different kind of game than when he faced her.
Gulp.
She swallowed dryly.
‘Black is hesitating.’
The score difference wasn’t large.
To secure victory, Waryongja needed to place blue spots.
But he couldn’t.
Doing so might expose his cheating.
So he was forced to mix in green spots awkwardly.
Tak.
Inha’s counterattack was fierce.
One wrong move—
And the entire flow could flip.
Waryongja no longer had the luxury to play green spots.
‘This game isn’t over yet.’
Light returned to Jang Yuna 2-dan’s eyes.
Regaining composure, she smiled lightly and returned to her streamer persona.
“Black seems a bit shaken now, right? More precisely, it feels like he’s unable to play the perfect moves.”
She subtly criticized Waryongja.
It was the best neutral phrasing she could manage without provoking Chinese viewers.
“Mumyeong pokes again. Another blue spot! If this works…”
She trailed off.
Even the breathing outside the camera seemed to stop.
Tak.
White made its move, breaking the silence.
Jang Yuna shouted,
“I can see a comeback angle for White!”
The air over the board changed.
‘I’m being pushed back.’
The position wasn’t good.
The opponent’s moves were precise.
And I was barely keeping up.
Earlier, he had occasionally played slack moves.
But those had disappeared about ten moves ago.
‘…Was closing a two-point gap always this hard?’
It was overwhelming.
My reading and remaining time were both insufficient to close the gap.
‘It’s unfortunate, but I have no regrets.’
My current skill, intuition, focus—
I poured everything into this game.
Even if a comeback was no longer realistic,
The sequences I found in the final chase weren’t bad, even in hindsight.
A shift in thinking.
Moves from a completely different trajectory than what I had played before.
A new sense, like breaking out of a shell.
Regardless of the result,
I felt something inside me changing.
Ding!
A system notification rang.
A window spread out before my eyes.
A new possibility for talent growth has been discovered.
‘…What?’
My eyes widened.
It was a message I had never seen before.
‘Talent… evolves?’
I had never imagined it.
I thought talent grades were just a measure of value.
But—
A wasn’t the end.
There was something beyond it.
It felt like everything I knew about the system was collapsing.
‘This isn’t the limit.’
My heart raced.
The extreme moves I had played at the edge just moments ago.
That sense of direction opening up.
It all felt like foreshadowing for this very message.
Any regret about losing had long disappeared.
‘Ah, get a grip.’
I was so absorbed in the idea of talent evolution that I had completely forgotten I was still in the middle of a match.
I grabbed the mouse.
There was no byo-yomi time left.
Just as I was about to resign cleanly—
“Huh…?”
Warning windows popped up on the monitor in succession.
Illegal program usage has been detected.
This match will be terminated.
The match result will be nullified.
We apologize for the inconvenience.
“…Nullified?”
I stared blankly.
The intense game had been wiped clean.
Even the record remained unchanged.
38 wins, 0 losses.
As if the match had never existed.
So this was what happened to users of illegal programs.
“W-wait, why are there so many spectators?”
Amid the confusion, I noticed the participant count.
217 people.
Usually, there were only one or two at most.
While I was focused,
So many people had been watching my game.
And among the flood of chat messages still scrolling—
One line stood out.
JangYuna: Hello Mumyeong. Can we talk for a moment?
A baduk streamer.
Jang Yuna 2-dan.
Mumyeong: Yes, that’s fine.
JangYuna: I’ll contact you shortly. Please accept the 1:1 chat. Please!
After emphasizing it, Jang Yuna 2-dan left the chatroom.
The viewers who had followed her gradually left as well.
“What just happened…”
Too much had happened in such a short time.
I couldn’t organize my thoughts.
To clear my head, I went to the kitchen, drank a glass of cold water, and came back.
Then—
JangYuna has requested a 1:1 chat.
I clicked accept.
A private chat window appeared.
JangYuna: Hello, Mumyeong! I finally reached you. I sent you several messages…
“Messages?”
Was there such a function?
What did she want to talk about?
JangYuna: Actually, I wanted to propose a rematch. But you didn’t reply, so I entered your game room and then…
She trailed off and added,
JangYuna: I streamed your match live. I’m sorry for broadcasting it without prior permission.
Ah, I see.
I nodded.
Mumyeong: It’s fine. It was a public match anyway.
JangYuna: Thank you for understanding!
Maybe because I had seen her in person,
Every time she typed, I could picture her face.
JangYuna: Um, Mumyeong. Would it be okay if I upload today’s match to YouTube?
Mumyeong: The match that got nullified?
I asked, unable to understand.
JangYuna: Well, of course it got nullified because of AI cheating. Honestly, it just makes you more amazing for holding your ground like that!
Mumyeong: Wait… AI? You mean artificial intelligence?
JangYuna: You didn’t know?
Mumyeong: Not at all.
JangYuna: Have you ever played against AI before?
Mumyeong: No.
The “JangYuna is typing…” message lingered unusually long.
JangYuna: That player was using moves recommended by AI. The best moves are blue spots, and decent ones are green spots. If you alternate them, it looks human.
‘Ah.’
The source of that lingering discomfort during the match with Waryongja—
The puzzle finally clicked.
Why my psychological plays hadn’t worked.
It wasn’t emotion or instinct.
It was pure logic and calculation—artificial intelligence.
I had heard about it before.
That human baduk had collapsed.
That players now learned from AI, prioritizing numbers over intuition, precision over feeling.
‘I thought that was nonsense.’
But facing it firsthand—
Was different.
The wall called AI was far higher and thicker than I had imagined.
And perhaps that was why—
A new possibility for talent growth has been discovered.
The moment I felt that wall.
Now that I had faced an unreachable extreme—
My talent responded.
Mumyeong: Yuna.
JangYuna: Yes?
In the end, I couldn’t help but ask.
Mumyeong: How can I play against AI?