Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Saturday morning.
Even though it wasn’t a workday, I left the house early.
The cold morning air brushed against my face.
As I walked down the hill, my steps felt light yet somehow heavy at the same time.
“The 11th President’s Cup National Baduk Tournament.”
This was my first official participation in the “National Top Division.”
Amateur rankers.
Trainees aiming to become professional players.
They were no easy opponents, but strangely, I wasn’t afraid.
If anything, I was excited.
The stronger the opponent, the greater the thrill of victory.
Maybe this was what they called a dopamine addiction.
“I’m not worried about the baduk. But…”
As I stood by the roadside waiting, a black car slowly approached from the distance.
A Mercedes S-Class.
It felt less like a car and more like a moving luxury hotel.
Today, I would be riding that car to the venue where the President’s Cup would be held.
“Ha… spending one night and two days with the branch manager.”
He wasn’t as intimidating as before.
But that didn’t mean he was comfortable either.
And now I had to spend an entire trip with him?
There was no way I wouldn’t feel uneasy.
Screech.
The branch manager rolled down the passenger window and called out.
“Assistant Manager Kim, get in.”
I got into the car and fastened my seatbelt.
The seat hugged my body more comfortably than a massage chair.
As my body relaxed, my thoughts loosened a bit too.
“Right. If I can’t avoid it, I might as well enjoy it.”
Changing my mindset made things a lot easier.
“How’s your condition?”
“It’s good. How about you, sir?”
“Me too. Slept well.”
The branch manager nodded once and gently pressed the accelerator.
The car glided smoothly along the road.
To avoid any awkward silence, I started making small talk.
“Are Manager Do and Assistant Manager Jung not participating?”
“Seems like they both have work.”
“That’s a shame.”
“No need to worry about that. Just focus on playing well.”
We stopped briefly at a rest area.
After using the restroom, I bought a cup of coffee and returned to the car.
Just as we were about to start driving again, my phone buzzed.
[Yeonhee: Have a good one-night trip with the branch manager! I’ll let you cheat this time haha]
“What is she saying…”
I let out a small chuckle.
The “cheating” metaphor was funny, but those two “haha” at the end softened my mood.
The branch manager, who had been quietly observing me, asked,
“Girlfriend?”
“What? No. Just… a junior I know.”
I quickly brushed it off.
If I mentioned Yeonhee, it would definitely lead to unnecessary misunderstandings.
“That’s how it always starts.”
“Pardon?”
“She’s just a junior at first, then she becomes your girlfriend, and before you know it, you’re living together.”
I coughed awkwardly.
“Me and Yeonhee?”
I had never thought about it that way.
She had been a good junior in college, and still was.
Just a good junior. Nothing more.
But…
“We have been texting more often lately.”
There was a reason.
We had already used up all the SNS photos we took during our trip to Namwon.
We were more like accomplices, using each other to a certain extent.
That was the extent of our relationship.
Anyway.
After driving on the highway for over an hour and exiting the interchange, the navigation spoke.
“You are near your destination.”
An unfamiliar scene unfolded outside the window.
A gymnasium next to a city hall.
A banner reading “National Baduk Tournament – President’s Cup.”
A bustling crowd.
Excitement and tension.
The expressions of the participants perfectly captured the atmosphere unique to this tournament.
“We can park here.”
The branch manager turned the wheel and parked in a corner of the outdoor lot.
The gymnasium was quite crowded.
People who seemed to be officials were greeting each other with name tags around their necks.
“It’s much bigger than the Sudam Cup.”
There was a reason why the President’s Cup held the highest status among the three major amateur tournaments.
From participation divisions to the number of players and prize money, it surpassed the Sudam Cup in every aspect.
“Assistant Manager Kim, see you at lunch.”
“Yes, sir. Good luck with your games.”
We parted ways at the entrance of the gym.
The branch manager was in the senior division, so his registration desk was different.
After completing my registration, I headed to the match hall where the top division games would be held.
As I sat quietly waiting for the match to begin, I noticed two elementary school kids, who looked about ten years old, sitting side by side, absorbed in a game on their smartphones.
“Hey, are you gonna keep playing dirty like that?”
“Then you do it too.”
“Ugh, seriously.”
Watching them shove each other and joke around made me smile.
Maybe because they were kids, but they looked carefree and happy.
“The opening ceremony will begin shortly. Participants, please take your seats and remain quiet.”
Not long after the announcement, the ceremony began in earnest.
True to the name President’s Cup, the mayor, organizers, and association officials all took turns on stage.
It was the longest opening ceremony of any tournament I had ever attended.
“They’re still playing?”
They were quieter than before but still focused on their game.
The matches would start soon.
I was almost worried whether they would even make it to their proper division.
More importantly…
“When is my opponent coming?”
The seat in front of me was still empty.
If they didn’t show up by the end of the ceremony, it would be a forfeit.
“We wish all participants the best of luck. Thank you.”
Clap, clap.
A gentle round of applause spread through the gym.
Following the staff’s instructions, the first matches of each division began.
“It can’t be another default win, right?”
Just as I recalled that “pleasant” memory from my first tournament,
the boy who had been playing on his phone earlier came and sat across from me.
A bowl-cut hairstyle, round horn-rimmed glasses.
A white T-shirt, pants, and sneakers.
He was so small that the chair seemed oversized for him.
Thinking he might have mistaken his division, I checked the name tag hanging from his neck.
But…
“This is the top division?”
I rubbed my eyes several times.
But both the name and division were clear.
National Top Division, Kim Taeyul.
My first opponent.
“At that age, in the top division… he must be a trainee.”
A line from a martial arts webtoon came to mind.
When you step into the martial world, beware of children and the elderly.
That was exactly how it felt.
Like facing a master who had returned to youth.
“Mister, should we draw for colors?”
I nodded silently.
We each moved our stone bowls forward and drew.
The result was white.
“I look forward to learning from you.”
“Same here.”
After exchanging brief formalities, Taeyul straightened his posture.
The slouched kid fiddling with his phone was gone.
He sat upright, scanning the entire board.
Then his small hand moved slowly.
Click.
A clear, crisp sound.
Though his body was small, there was no hesitation in his move.
“Ha…”
I steadied my breathing.
His age was already erased from my mind.
If he was a trainee, he stood at the threshold of becoming a professional.
Even at my best, there was no guarantee I would win.
Click.
I responded with a diagonal komoku.
The opening moves were standard.
Komoku, hoshi, approach, pincer.
A typical joseki that I expected to lead into a stable opening.
“He attaches here?”
Black suddenly resisted within the joseki flow.
A complex situation where both sides’ key stones were unsettled and cut apart.
It demanded both attack and defense at the same time.
“Stay calm.”
Joseki is a promise.
A mutual understanding of a fair compromise.
But this variation was unfamiliar to me.
Which meant he had already prepared it.
Every move chose the most complex and difficult path.
It was a sequence that couldn’t exist without prior study.
In the end, I had to spend a lot of time just responding.
Still, fortunately, I managed to get through the dangerous situation without major damage.
“Let’s take control from here.”
I gave up some large points but seized the initiative.
To drag black into a fight.
I needed to take the lead.
But black interfered with every setup I tried.
Especially with irregular shapes, yet each move was sharp.
“…These moves feel like AI.”
The same strange sensation I felt in my game against Wolongja.
Blue spots.
It felt similar.
Then… was Taeyul also cheating?
“No.”
He had studied.
Based on AI.
A style that pursued high-probability moves over personal intuition.
Data-driven.
Standardized judgment.
But…
“He’s still inexperienced.”
AI moves were strong.
But humans aren’t machines.
They have emotions, intuition, hesitation.
It’s impossible to play every move with AI-level precision.
“That’s the weakness.”
A slight mismatch.
A tiny off-beat.
I didn’t miss it.
“…!”
Taeyul’s hand stopped.
Midgame.
A fierce life-and-death battle erupted.
I made the complex fight even more complicated.
Every clash branched into two, three variations.
Small battles layered over one another.
And finally.
Taeyul’s expression stiffened for the first time.
A move completely unrelated to the existing stones.
Yet now, it connected into an unexpected threat.
“Entering byo-yomi.”
Taeyul’s calm eyes wavered.
For the first time.
Until now, his moves had been precise and logical.
But not anymore.
Byo-yomi.
Those short 30 seconds tested him.
A time where instinct mattered more than calculation.
And instinct… always leans toward familiar moves.
Click.
Pressed by time, Taeyul hesitated several times before placing his stone.
But the moment his hand left the board, his face turned pale.
“It’s over.”
I had been waiting for this moment.
I smiled faintly.
It was a fatal mistake.
“……”
Kang Hyuk 9-dan was walking around, observing the matches in the “National Top Division” as an official observer.
It was partly to prevent any potential misconduct.
But in truth, this President’s Cup held another significance.
It was a selection tournament for the World Amateur Championship.
That ticket was on the line.
“Last year, China took the title.”
In professional baduk, Korea still held a slight edge over China.
But in the amateur scene, it was different.
Numbers ruled.
With its massive player base, China dominated.
Perhaps that’s why he hoped a Korean amateur would shine on the world stage this year.
“Wait…”
Kang Hyuk 9-dan stopped walking.
A familiar name.
A familiar face.
The player who had defeated his trainee Han Taemin in the Sudam Cup Gyeonggi finals.
Kim Inha.
“That was a memorable game.”
Since the rise of AI, baduk had changed.
More than style or individuality, skill was measured by how well one followed AI.
He didn’t think that was wrong.
But…
It was a little disappointing.
It felt like baduk was no longer an art.
On a board with only correct answers, everyone played similar moves.
But that day,
the baduk he saw from Inha was different.
It reminded him of something old.
Human baduk.
The elegant flow of the pre-AI era.
Maybe that was why he wanted to see it again.
Kang Hyuk 9-dan quietly approached and looked down at Inha’s board.
At that moment, his eyes trembled slightly.
“T-this is?”
The arrangement of black stones.
The placement of white stones.
He couldn’t grasp the intention or sequence of any move.
This game was like…
a drawing with no plan at all.