Chapter 24
Chapter 24
"Hello, this is Jang Pil-ju from the Korea Baduk Association. May I speak with you briefly regarding the Ciel Bank Amateur Preliminary?"
I took a moment to catch my breath.
The Korea Baduk Association.
They organize and oversee domestic Baduk tournaments.
They handle professional entrance and promotion examinations, rankings, and the overall management of Baduk in Korea.
"Yes, that’s fine."
The moment I heard the name Korea Baduk Association, my mind felt clear.
Part excitement, part tension.
Had I been waiting for this call all along?
"Yes. The reason I’m calling is that Kim In-ha, you are currently ranked second among amateurs and are eligible to participate in the Ciel Bank Amateur Preliminary."
I repeated the number in my mind.
Ranked second.
Perhaps because the President’s Cup holds significant prestige, my ranking had suddenly shot to the top tier.
The first place must still be Park Jun-su.
"The preliminary will include the top 30 amateur ranked players and the top 42 research students from the Korea Baduk Association, and nine will advance to the integrated qualifiers."
I listened calmly.
The amateur preliminary was exactly that—a gateway.
The integrated qualifiers would have nearly 400 professional players from around the world.
It was a stage to confirm whether I had the right to be there.
"Today, you only need to indicate whether you intend to participate."
There was no reason to hesitate.
"I will participate."
"Good."
Over the phone, Jang Pil-ju let out a light laugh.
"I will send the detailed schedule and location via text. Once again, congratulations."
After hanging up, I leaned against the corridor wall to catch my breath.
This amateur tournament felt heavier.
The ninth dan, a state of mastery.
World-class players.
The chance to stand on the same stage.
Of course, it was only possible if I advanced to the integrated qualifiers.
"If I make it, that’s all that matters."
My heart raced.
A strange warmth, a mix of excitement and nervousness.
I slowly lifted my head.
Outside the corridor wall, ordinary daily life flowed.
But.
I felt as if I were walking down a slightly different path.
After work.
For office workers, the most awaited time of the day.
I was no different.
But.
Today felt even more anticipated.
Through the bus window, the usual evening scenery didn’t register.
All I could think about was the new computer that would arrive at home that afternoon.
"Finally, I can play against AI."
A small smile lifted the corner of my lips.
Artificial intelligence.
The shock from playing against Waryongja was still vivid.
Through that, I had asked Jang Yuna 2-dan for guidance on using AI.
But the problem was.
"My laptop was too old."
It was impossible to do anything.
Each move took tens of seconds, sometimes even minutes due to lag.
Even then, the calculations were slow, and the range of suggested moves was limited.
Sometimes it would overheat and freeze, preventing me from making the next move.
Eventually, I had to buy a new computer.
A hefty investment, close to two million won.
It was a large expense, but.
"This is an investment, not consumption."
Playing against AI was not just a game.
According to Jang Yuna 2-dan, even world-class professional players use AI for training and research.
I, who had relied solely on my talent until now, also.
"I have to change."
[Discovered a new potential for talent growth.]
Beyond A grade.
I was certain AI would open that door.
"This is the next stop…."
The bus stopped at the stop near my house.
I ran up the hill as if racing.
"I’m home."
"Welcome back. Yes, yes, I was listening."
As I opened the front door, I heard my mother’s low voice from the kitchen.
Even after greeting, her quiet conversation continued.
"…Alright. I’ll quit. I’m sorry."
I instinctively turned toward the kitchen.
My mother’s face was full of concern.
"Are you hungry? Go wash up. I’ll make dinner."
"Is something wrong?"
After a brief hesitation, she spoke.
"The restaurant… I quit."
It came out of nowhere.
"Why? The owner treated you well, didn’t they?"
"They were running it too carelessly. They used expired seasonings and oil. I told them several times to throw it away and get new supplies."
As she laid out side dishes, she smiled bitterly.
"They told me to quit."
"Is that even a reason?"
"I know… but still… it was a place I worked… I couldn’t just ignore it."
Her words left a hollow ache in my chest.
"Mom, you shouldn’t let that happen."
"I know, I know…"
She sighed deeply.
"My business days were better…"
She turned toward the refrigerator, her gaze lingering on family photos lined up from kindergarten, elementary school, all in school uniforms.
Behind them was the signboard 'Inha Bunsik.'
The snack bar my mother had run for over ten years.
As a child, our family had lived in the room beside the shop.
I remember playing in the corner, doing homework, and eating tteokbokki.
We earned enough from that business to buy our current home.
But four years ago.
The landlord, who raised the rent every year, told us to leave.
My mother held on, but eventually decided to close the shop.
The words "leave" were more insulting than any financial loss.
The landlord started operating the business themselves.
And now, it had nearly failed.
"Inha. That shop… shall we try again?"
"Where? The snack bar?"
"Yes. I got a call earlier. They’ll give all the fixtures. They asked if you’d want to run it again."
It was the same offhand comment from yesterday during dinner over beef.
Hearing it again, I felt irritation.
"Now? When they forced you out, where were they then?"
Her gaze wavered.
No key money, lower rent offered by the landlord.
A shop that had once succeeded.
And most importantly, filled with memories.
She seemed to still want to try again.
"You said it yourself, Mom. You shouldn’t go back to a dead business."
"That’s true… but…"
She trailed off, fiddling with the lid of a side dish container.
Anyone could see she still wanted to try.
I had seen a snack bar succeed before, and a galbi restaurant fail after putting all dad’s retirement money in.
So I was cautious.
I couldn’t speak up immediately.
Still.
She wanted to do it.
I now had some extra income from Baduk.
Perhaps it would be okay.
Just as that thought crossed my mind.
A notification sounded.
At the same time.
[Congratulations! Your filial piety condition has been partially met.]
[When all conditions are met, you will receive a Talent Roulette ticket.]
"What… what is this?"
A familiar system window.
The same message I had seen just before getting the Diamond Roulette ticket.
"Filial piety as a condition?"
Looking at my mother in front of me.
Just having the thought in my heart had been enough.
I didn’t expect that to be recognized as a condition, and yet my chest warmed with a strange, proud feeling.
My mother looked at me.
"Why? Are you feeling sick?"
"No… nothing."
I chose my words carefully.
"Let’s think about it a few more days, then decide, Mom."
That was the best I could do.
Roulette tickets and the like were secondary.
Letting her make her choice.
That was right.
"Okay. We’ll do that."
She looked at me briefly, nodded, and smiled faintly.
Always, she couldn’t hide her feelings.
"Shall we eat now?"
"Yes."
We sat down for dinner.
Soybean paste stew, kimchi, a few side dishes.
Nothing unusual, yet my mind was tangled.
"Filial piety as a condition…"
Beyond the roulette ticket.
The thought I had casually carried was now evaluated.
It felt strange, warm, and fulfilling.
Still, nothing was decided.
The snack bar.
Could it work again?
Would it be okay to try again?
No easy answer came.
Time was needed.
After finishing, I returned to my room.
"So this is the computer box."
I took a breath and carefully cut the box tape with a cutter.
Opening the lid, the new main unit emerged, wrapped in styrofoam.
I carefully set it under the desk.
Connected the power, monitor, and LAN cable.
Press.
Power on.
A soft LED glowed, the fans ran smoothly.
First boot complete.
I installed the AI I had purchased legitimately, DeepStone.
According to Jang Yuna 2-dan, the strongest AI available.
Strong in opening and joseki.
Balances solidity and thickness well.
Perfect for shape evaluation and endgame.
The computer had to perform just as well, hence the large investment.
"Installation’s done."
I sat in front of the monitor.
The first thing I ran was not DeepStone, but Three Kingdoms Baduk.
Today was Jang Yuna 2-dan’s revenge match.
"So many messages?"
I had been away all weekend because of the President’s Cup.
Most messages were from Jang Yuna 2-dan.
"What? They uploaded the edited version?"
I clicked the link to a YouTube video.
"Do they really edit it like this?"
Provocative thumbnails.
Attention-grabbing titles.
Highlights of professional players losing.
And in them, I was the ‘unknown.’
"Retiring? What…"
Watching the video made me cringe.
Regardless of my skill.
The focus was on entertainment.
That wasn’t bad.
I just had to make sure.
"I must never reveal I am unknown."
Throughout the video, the editing exaggerated my moves.
At that moment.
[JangYuna has requested a 1-on-1 chat.]
"How does she know right when I log in?"
I clicked accept.
The 1-on-1 chat opened.
JangYuna: Unknown! Did you see the messages?
Mumyeong: Huh? Not yet. I’m just seeing them now.
A reply came instantly.
JangYuna: I knew it! You don’t know your opponent changed today, right?
Mumyeong: No?
What was this?
Wasn’t today supposed to be a revenge match?
JangYuna: I was asked to arrange it. I wasn’t confident I could win. Another pro will play instead.
Mumyeong: A pro?
My hand froze for a moment.
Another professional? This was unexpected.
JangYuna: Yes. It’s An Sung-hyun 7-dan, runner-up of the Baekdusan Cup.
I felt a little dizzy.
7-dan.
A runner-up in a major title.
I had assumed it would be a light revenge match, but the scale had suddenly expanded.
JangYuna: Feeling nervous? Haha
Mumyeong: A little.
I answered honestly.
JangYuna: But excited, right?
Mumyeong: How did you know?
JangYuna: Just had a feeling, haha.
It was genuine.
The mix of pressure and excitement.
That was anticipation.
JangYuna: I’m live, so wait for a moment!
The 1-on-1 chat ended.
I tuned into Jang Yuna 2-dan’s stream.
She had just started five minutes ago.
Viewers were rapidly increasing.
The chat was heating up.
Seeing it, I fully realized how big this had become.
Yet.
Why wasn’t I nervous?
A smile crept across my lips.
Again.
The familiar feeling.
My heart started to race just a little more.