The Draw That No One Saw Coming
“This tournament becoming someone else’s banquet… I don’t really like that.”
With those words, he quietly slipped his hand into the ball tube.
Thud.
The ball rolled, producing a strangely tense sound.
It didn’t matter who the opponent was.
Whoever he faced, victory was victory.
…It would have been nice if it had been the higher seed.
Zihao 9-dan had been the higher seed.
If that were the case, he would have loved to face him right away.
The way he had dismissed Korea in his words had bothered him, but more than that…
He was the prodigy representing China.
A strange and eccentric player who loved bizarre moves.
And most importantly.
The player whose style most closely matches mine.
Park, the analyst from the professional Go association, had said so. It was undoubtedly true.
The harmony of flexibility and eccentricity.
Sensory reading and intuitive judgment.
Even the concentration that surged at the end.
Because they were similar, he was even more curious.
Could his moves defeat Zihao’s?
Could he read Zihao’s moves?
But.
The number written on the ball in his hand was one he had never expected.
“Number 11! In the main round, the round of 16, Kim In-ha 9-dan and Kim Eun-woo 9-dan will face each other!”
The audience seats buzzed.
An unexpected bracket.
He himself had no choice but to be startled.
This… I didn’t see this coming.
Normally, ranking seed players were distributed across different brackets.
But the Guksujeon was decided by random draw due to fairness issues.
Anyone could face anyone from the first round.
Still, he hadn’t expected to face the Korean ranking number two, Kim Eun-woo 9-dan, in the very first game.
Well, it’s a match I’ll have to face sooner or later anyway.
He stepped down from the stage and gave Kim Eun-woo 9-dan a slight bow.
He responded with a light nod.
His expression was calm, but a hidden tension was evident.
The revived Guksujeon.
Considering its symbolism, Kim Eun-woo 9-dan would likely approach it with greater resolve.
In contrast, Zihao 9-dan was smiling as if amused after hearing the translation.
There was no malice.
But his gaze was full of mischief.
He really is a scoundrel.
Even though he was still in his mid-twenties, his manner of speech and eyes gave off an unpredictable, mercurial feel.
The draw continued rapidly after that.
Norimoto 9-dan, the special Japanese guest.
Take Hyun-min 9-dan, who had reached the final before the tournament was abolished.
Interviews followed that felt like watching the history and tradition of the Guksujeon unfold.
And finally.
“Please come forward to the special invited Chinese women’s Go player, Chai Ran 8-dan.”
A woman rose from her seat at the host’s call.
Quiet footsteps.
Black hair, sharp jawline.
Pale skin with black-rimmed glasses.
The glasses obscured half her face, making it hard to read her expression.
“Chai Ran 8-dan is the daughter of Gui Ling 9-dan, the Chinese women’s Go player who reached the final of the 32nd Guksujeon as a special invited player.”
Approximately thirty years ago.
A Chinese women’s Go player had been invited to the Guksujeon, defeated domestic professional players, and reached the final.
In Korean Go history, she was the first and only woman to win the unified men’s and women’s Meijin tournament.
She had shattered the prejudice that male players could defeat female players, causing a huge shock and sensation.
Standing on the stage, Chai Ran 8-dan wrapped the microphone with both hands and quietly spoke.
“…It is an honor to be able to participate in the same tournament as my mother.”
A women’s Go player continuing the legacy and reaching the final.
For her, this revived Guksujeon held meaning beyond mere participation.
The host asked a question.
“Is there any player you would like to face or avoid?”
She lowered her head for a moment, then lifted her gaze.
“Yes. There is a player I would like to face.”
“May I ask which player?”
Her gaze immediately landed on him.
“Kim In-ha 9-dan.”
…Me?
An unexpected name.
Instantly, every eye in the room turned toward him.
Chai Ran 8-dan did not lower her head or change her expression.
The host asked again.
“May I hear the reason?”
She looked at him over her glasses.
There was no warmth or emotion in her gaze.
Yet it was strangely cold.
“…Because it resembles my mother’s Go. That is why I want to surpass it.”
A momentary silence fell after her words.
At first glance, the words were calm.
But something suppressed within them was felt.
“Chai Ran 8-dan is number 9.”
After completing the final draw, she quietly stepped down from the stage.
Her speech was precise, her face emotionless.
Yet something deeply rooted within her was felt.
Her resolve to surpass her mother’s shadow through him.
She hadn’t been ignored, yet she felt like she had received a challenge.
How interesting.
He slowly lifted the corner of his mouth.
It didn’t matter what.
Whatever her resolve, he wasn’t a weak player who would simply play along.
This Guksujeon.
It was more exciting than the Ciel Bank Cup.
* * *
After the draw ended, one by one the professional players rose from their seats.
The area outside the studio was already bustling.
Reporters were swarming, openly aiming for interview angles.
Here we go again.
The reporters’ gazes naturally turned toward him.
Because he was always the one creating issues, he was irresistible prey to them.
Moreover, having passed the first selection for the compound national team recently, he was in the spotlight of the media.
At an official event for the first time in a while, there would surely be many questions unrelated to Go.
Today… should I just skip it?
Normally he would have responded to the interview, but he didn’t want to waste mental energy with a match tomorrow.
The opponent was none other than Kim Eun-woo 9-dan.
Just as he was trying to slip out through the back door, catching a glance and avoiding the reporters’ eyes…
“Excuse me. Could I have a moment of your time?”
The unfamiliar pronunciation brushed his ear.
When he turned his head, a man in a neat suit was standing calmly.
…Norimoto 9-dan?
The Japanese guest.
There was talk that he had slightly declined from his prime, but he was still a top-tier player in the Japanese Go world.
He approached him cautiously, someone with no particular connection.
He paused for a moment.
He didn’t understand Japanese well, but the atmosphere suggested that Norimoto 9-dan had business with him.
Norimoto 9-dan carefully put his hand into the inner pocket of his suit.
And what he pulled out was a letter.
He spoke in awkward Korean.
“Yuzuha. Please deliver this.”
“…!”
His mind went blank for a moment.
Yuzuha.
Because the name that had popped out was one he had never thought of.
“She… talks about Kim In-ha 9-dan a lot.”
He stood there unable to say anything.
Norimoto 9-dan looked at him for a moment, then quietly bowed and retreated.
He watched his retreating back as he squeezed through the crowd of reporters for a long time.
A thin white envelope.
A handwritten letter.
Exactly the neat feeling that was Yuzuha’s.
“……”
He pushed the envelope into his jacket pocket.
The truth he hadn’t been able to say.
And an apology.
He had wanted to, but the sincerity he hadn’t been able to express would be inside it.
The time to open her heart… didn’t seem to be now.
In a quiet place, with a quiet heart.
He hurried toward the back door, avoiding the reporters’ gazes.
One thin letter in his pocket.
He hadn’t opened it yet, but he felt warmth in one corner of his heart.
* * *
Park Ji-man’s Baduk in channel.
On the studio screen, Kim In-ha 9-dan and Kim Eun-woo 9-dan sat facing each other before the Guksujeon round of 16.
Despite being before the match, the studio was tense.
Thanks to that atmosphere, the real-time live viewers had already surpassed 20,000.
It wasn’t a world event, just a domestic tournament round of 16.
Park Ji-man 9-dan couldn’t hide his excitement.
Viewers would soon turn into sponsors.
“Whoa. This is a huge hit from the very first day. Eun-woo and In-ha are already facing each other. Shouldn’t we have saved this for the finals?”
He adjusted the microphone slightly and spoke in a light tone.
On one side of the monitor, real-time chat was flooding in without pause.
-I wanted to postpone this match a bit.
-Isn’t Kim Eun-woo 9-dan still stronger?
-Kim Eun-woo 9-dan’s recent results have been really bad…
-Right, Kim In-ha 9-dan also does archery, it was in the news.
-Yeah. He was picked for the national team first selection, but since he’s a polymath, it might affect the match.
Countless opinions poured out.
Park Ji-man 9-dan read the chat and let out a chuckle.
“Hey, everyone. Our ancestors did this too. They studied while shooting arrows and playing Go. Both Go and archery are mental sports. The spirit is the same.”
He searched YouTube and put Kim In-ha’s video from the compound national team first selection on the broadcast screen.
Calmly drawing the string and shooting.
Even someone who didn’t know archery well wouldn’t see it as an amateurish impression.
“When we were kids, the adults said one thing was enough. Master, expert. Something like that?”
The screen switched back to the studio.
Kim In-ha sat quietly with his eyes closed, lost in thought.
The opponent was the unmovable domestic ranking number two, Kim Eun-woo 9-dan.
Yet there was no sign of tension or stiffness on his face.
“But these days it’s different. What was it called, polymath? People who are focused on that are being highlighted. Someone who has mastered multiple fields. Like Jeong Yak-yong or Da Vinci. That’s why In-ha is even more amazing.”
While Park Ji-man continued his explanation, he felt a complex emotion inside.
That wasn’t an easy thing to do.
He too had bet his life on Go.
He had won one domestic tournament, but that was it.
He hadn’t even made it to the round of 8 in world events.
That was why In-ha seemed even more amazing.
29 years old.
An age close to the twilight of a professional Go player.
At such a time, he suddenly appeared, swept the world events, and now even aimed for the national team in the compound archery division.
That posture and gaze…
Kim In-ha on screen was quiet.
Like someone submerged in deep water.
Without saying a word or showing a single expression, he sat there, yet a concentration that sucked in the surrounding air was felt.
…Thinking that winning is natural is really scary.
Professional Go players knew it.
A world where you only survive by winning.
If you lacked your own skill and confidence, you wouldn’t be able to sit in that position like In-ha or draw the string toward the target.
That was why he became even more expectant.
“Okay, the game has started. Let’s focus, shall we?”
The screen switched to the Go board.
Thud.
The first move was taken by Kim In-ha 9-dan, who had chosen black.
Hwa-jeom.
Kim Eun-woo 9-dan responded with a diagonal stone.
Followed by a sequence of moves.
Black’s hand was lifted.
Soon after, a three-three invasion.
The AI’s opening was slightly deformed.
The board flowed complexly yet delicately.
Neither side gained an advantage, facing each other evenly.
“It hasn’t deviated much yet. No joseki changes… uh, uh?”
Park Ji-man stopped speaking.
Instantly, on the screen, Kim Eun-woo 9-dan’s stone strangely deviated in a completely unexpected direction.
“W-what is this? Is this correct, Eun-woo? Did he really mess up?”
Park Ji-man wrapped his head in shock.
A move that tore through the double wing formation.
A development too complex for even a normal pro to hesitate.
The exact joseki he had used against Lu Quanyi 9-dan in the second game of the Ciel Bank Cup finals.
He swallowed and raised his voice.
“…Eun-woo played a daesa-baekbyeon against In-ha from the very beginning. He started the fight right away!”