Late Start, Late Defeat
Shall we go?
Confidently, I took a step forward.
The first-floor lobby of the building was already bustling with people.
Organizing staff.
Reporters.
And professional Go players gathered from every corner of the world.
The corridor leading to the prelim match room on the third floor was thick with tense energy.
‘……The saying “War of the Stars” wasn’t wrong at all.’
This was the first time I’d seen such a sight.
Seeing so many professional Go players gathered in one place.
Or facing the concentration and aura they radiated.
Meanwhile, a few Chinese players were loudly chatting in Chinese along the corridor.
Some Korean players were quietly conversing in small groups.
The Japanese players were nowhere to be seen.
No, “not noticeable” would be more accurate.
In between, I caught familiar faces.
Probably the No.1 ranked Park Jun-soo.
No.1 in the first group of trainees, Kim Tae-ho.
And Shin Myeong-hwan from the Giseong Study Group.
‘……He didn’t come back to the dojo.’
After losing to me that day, perhaps he hadn’t had time to sort his thoughts.
Or maybe losing to an amateur had made him angry and frustrated.
I wasn’t sure which, but
I decided to ignore it.
Our eyes met, yet neither of us spoke.
It was a sensitive moment.
A careful courtesy meant to avoid disturbing each other.
At the same time, other professionals preparing for their matches in their own ways caught my eye.
Someone meditating with eyes closed.
Another plugging in earphones and tapping a rhythm.
Someone else reading a book.
Still others stretching in unusual postures.
Each was raising their focus in their own unique way.
“Oppa, hello.”
Yuzuha said.
Her hair tied up in a round ponytail.
Wearing a comfortable hoodie and jeans.
She smiled brightly the moment she saw me.
“What have you been doing?”
“Just…… watching how the others were preparing.”
Yuzuha nodded and glanced around the corridor.
Because of her striking appearance and figure, several players kept stealing glances our way.
Yet Yuzuha herself seemed completely unfazed.
“That one.”
Yuzuha stepped closer and whispered softly.
“It’s a jinx.”
“Jinx?”
“Players have their own superstitions. Like you have to wear a suit to win, or if you wash your hair the day before the tournament you lose, or you have to hold a Go bowl with exactly one hundred black stones in the first draw.”
“……Isn’t that superstitious?”
Rational professionals obsessing over such things was hard to believe.
“It is superstition. But if you repeat it, it becomes…… a routine.”
“Routine?”
“Your own preparation method. Actions repeated to win. Sometimes it becomes an important habit that can even influence the outcome.”
To me, it sounded like the pro world was brutally competitive.
Win and survive.
Lose and get eliminated.
Perhaps even harsher than the jungle.
Yuzuha looked at my face and asked.
“You don’t have any such routine?”
“Me?”
I thought for a moment and shook my head.
“I don’t think I do.”
“……People without a routine are one of two types. Either you have total confidence in winning, or you don’t care about win or loss.”
Yuzuha’s eyes curved like a new moon.
She met my gaze and said in a slightly lower voice.
“You must be the first one, right?”
I let out a soft laugh.
So that’s how it is.
“Then do you have one?”
“I do.”
“……Really?”
“Yes.”
Yuzuha glanced around once, then pulled her arm closer and whispered.
“Only you know.”
“Eh? What…….”
“I…… didn’t wear any.”
“What?”
Yuzuha lowered her head, hiding the corners of her mouth shyly.
For a moment my mind went blank.
Didn’t wear any?
Meaning what?
Was it…….
At those words that stirred my imagination, my gaze instinctively drifted downward.
“It’s true. Today I didn’t wear socks.”
“Socks……?”
I held my breath and burst into laughter.
“U, don’t laugh! If my feet get cramped, I can’t concentrate, so I have no choice.”
Yuzuha pouted and shyly lifted the hem of her pants.
Snow-white, slender ankles.
She was truly wearing only sneakers with no socks.
“But isn’t ‘wearing’ socks…… ‘putting them on’?”
“Eh? Th, that…….”
Yuzuha was flustered by my comment and her face turned red.
The way she trailed off at the end sounded like a cute squirrel.
“When it comes to this, it’s Japanese. The Korean language is too natural, so I sometimes forget.”
“Ah. I hear that kind of thing often.”
Yuzuha shrugged and smiled bashfully.
The atmosphere felt a little lighter.
At that moment.
‘……Eh?’
A gaze came from far away.
When I turned, at the end of the corridor a man standing slantedly met my eyes.
Byun Woo-bin 5-dan.
His expression was stiffly hardened.
In his gaze lay a subtle displeasure.
‘Again like that.’
The same cold curiosity I saw at the Go cafe that day.
Or an unreasonable resentment.
Anyway, he didn’t look particularly happy.
Meanwhile, players began heading one by one toward the prelim match rooms.
The prelims were about to begin.
“Then I’ll head to the women’s division match room.”
Yuzuha waved her hand lightly.
“We’ll win and meet again!”
She turned lightly and left.
I calmed my breathing and entered the prelim match room.
Most participants were already seated.
I headed to my designated seat.
When I sat down, the opponent across from me came into view.
‘Kim Dong-gyu 7-dan.’
Messy hair, hunched shoulders.
Unironed shirt.
Square-frame glasses.
At first glance, he seemed completely unconcerned with appearance.
Yet the gaze fixed on the Go board held a strange concentration.
“Today’s referee will be these players. Then, from now on, we will begin the Ciel Bank Cup Integrated Preliminaries Round 1 match.”
With the announcement, the sound of stones being placed clattered across the board from all sides.
We opened our Go bowls and drew stones.
‘Black.’
I slowly adjusted my posture and picked up the stone.
First move.
Hwa-jeom.
I placed the stone on the board and pressed the clock.
Most amateur tournaments I’d participated in so far had been blitz.
Time limits around 10 to 20 minutes.
I had to play, fight, and calculate without thinking.
However.
The Ciel Bank Cup Integrated Preliminaries was different.
Each player had a 2-hour time limit.
Byo-yomi was 1 minute, 5 times.
If all were exhausted, the match time easily exceeded 4 hours.
‘There’s a lot to learn.’
Not only quickness and intuition, but also patience and stamina.
Long-form Go is deeper, heavier.
First draw a big picture.
Gauge the situation.
Calculate time distribution.
Tuk.
Kim Dong-gyu’s response came.
Slow placement.
Even though not many moves had been played, the tempo was slow.
‘……Exactly as I heard.’
Solid, territorial style of Go.
Stable opening.
No overplay.
Textbook basic Go.
‘Playing against Shin Myeong-hwan helps.’
This kind of Go has few weaknesses but is easy to predict.
Against such an opponent, hasty deviations are poison.
It could even lead to loss.
‘Following the joseki, slowly grasping the flow.’
I also calmly played the next move.
A flat opening that flowed perfectly.
In such cases, one must be wary of impatience.
‘No need to shake the board forcefully.’
My style is fighting Go.
Calculation over intuition.
Situation over momentum.
It starts from accurate reading.
But.
‘I can play other Go too.’
Follow AI, but don’t chase AI.
Not necessarily the Blue Spot.
Accurate situation judgment.
A slightly more efficient move.
That was the Go I had prepared.
Tuk!
Second line, one space jump.
A move that breaks the Go proverb “One point separates two spaces, two points three spaces.”
Non-intuitive, but I was confident.
Slowly.
A little at a time.
A little at a time.
The belly might crash into the iceberg and sink.
But the scarier thing is.
Gradual flooding and sinking.
Now I chose the latter.
Dive in with silence.
Even without pushing with momentum, it seeps in with flow.
A better move.
A slightly slower pace.
However, the water had already come in.
Gradual erosion had begun.
‘This too, is my Go.’
***
“……”
Kim Dong-gyu 7-dan quietly looked at the Go board.
Seven years since accession this year.
He had occasionally reached the semifinals or quarterfinals of domestic tournaments, but still no title.
Starting with high expectations as a genius, his results had been a bit disappointing for a mid-level player.
‘Slept well. Condition is not bad.’
Seven hours of good sleep.
Breakfast was beef brisket soup boiled by his mother every day of the tournament.
He wore the shirt he always wore.
Everything was perfect routine.
Moreover, today’s opponent Kim In-ha.
‘Amateur.’
Although he was getting attention lately, it was just amateur-stage talk.
The weight of experience could not be ignored.
Moreover, the Ciel Bank Cup World Masters was…… long-form Go.
Two-hour time limit.
Amateurs inevitably had little experience.
Moreover.
‘I like this tournament.’
Slow.
Think deeply.
Reduce risk and play calmly.
Kim Dong-gyu’s most confident style.
Most tournaments with good results after accession had been long-form Go.
So the match began.
The opponent was a quiet-looking man.
After the first few moves, reading the flow, what I felt was one thing.
‘Our styles are similar.’
Then eventually, the question of who played better.
Tuk!
At the moment I played the move.
Kim Dong-gyu felt a thrill.
Confidence.
‘This move is the Blue Spot.’
The optimal move recommended by AI.
The ability to find that one move that encompasses the entire board.
Today, that intuition was at its peak.
‘I’m winning.’
With this condition, even against a top player, it didn’t seem like I’d lose.
But.
As the midgame approached.
In that confidence, a seed of unease sprouted.
‘Why, why…… doesn’t it collapse?’
Black.
Survived.
While carefully managing territory, he cleverly escaped where it was about to be pushed.
Haban extension.
Brief cutting.
Light marching.
All textbook-like.
Then, in the gaps, deviant moves appeared.
Cross-attachment.
Insertion.
Twisted key point.
Moves never seen before, nowhere seen.
Those unbelievable moves stacked up.
He.
White stones.
Crushed the moyo.
‘Is it really this much behind?’
The feeling of breath reaching the tip of the throat.
The palm was already wet with cold sweat.
Kim Dong-gyu wiped the sweat flowing down his neckline and unbuttoned one button.
The match was not over yet.
It could be reversed.
No, it had to be reversed.
He desperately threw out a winning move.
However.
It was already too late.
He never once caught a chance for reversal.
No, he couldn’t.
Consistent flow until the end.
Even in the moment filling the last empty space, the opponent didn’t waver.
“Shall we count?”
In-ha sitting across said calmly.
Kim Dong-gyu nodded silently.
Even though he knew it was meaningless counting.
Chororuk.
Including komi, 3.5 point difference.
A big gap at pro level.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
The opponent politely greeted and slowly arranged the stones.
Kim Dong-gyu muttered with a half-dazed look.
“Why are people like you…… still amateurs…….”
Today he.
Played the best Go he could.
Yet lost.
To an amateur.
In-ha stopped and left a trail of words.
“By starting Go late.”
In-ha bowed his head and turned.
Kim Dong-gyu.
Couldn’t get up from his seat for a long time.
‘Late.’
That one word lingered.
Because he started late, still the word amateur.
A bitter smile came out.
He had devoted his life.
Yet he was overwhelmed by someone who started late.
Chororuk.
With trembling fingertips, he arranged one, then two Go stones.
“……”
Slowly.
Silently.
It got smaller.
He felt himself becoming endlessly smaller.