Chapter 28: Mentor and Muse: A Taste of Victory
[See you at lunch today~~ lolol~~!]
Jia Lee, engrossed in reviewing game records, checks a message on her phone.
It’s from Seoa. Her usual cheerful text.
Jia has a lot she wants to point out, but fearing it might hurt the young girl’s feelings, she holds back.
[Okay! Sorry for taking your time, but I’ll treat you to lunch today!]
[No way, I got a big prize~~!!]
[It’s fine ㅠ.ㅠ It makes me feel better to treat you! Anything you want to eat?]
[Thanks~~~~!! After all the greasy food in China~~ lol, I’m craving some hot Korean soup~~~]
Soup… Maybe something an elementary schooler would like, like seolleongtang or kimchi jjigae?
But when she probes further, the answer is ox head soup or loach stew.
“Ugh…”
Both are dishes she can’t stand. But she can’t say no when her little mentor wants them.
The better option is a loach stew place that might have katsu for kids.
Making the plan, she continues reviewing before heading to the meeting spot on time.
Seoa, already there, waves excitedly as soon as she spots Jia.
Seoa Ryu 1-dan… no, now 2-dan, having earned a promotion for winning a world women’s tournament.
To Jia, who hasn’t even reached the main draw of a domestic tournament, Seoa feels like an increasingly distant figure.
“Sorry for being late! Did you wait long?”
“No! I just got here too.”
The girl smiles purely.
It’s hard to believe she’s the same person who exuded fierce intensity in the Huaihe Cup’s first final game.
Jia leads her to a restaurant she looked up, secretly ordering katsu for herself and loach stew for Seoa.
If Seoa knew Jia ordered katsu, her overflowing kindness would probably insist on going elsewhere.
“Ugh… Let’s review openings starting today.”
The blonde girl, seated at the restaurant, struggles to lift a water pitcher as she speaks.
Seoa Ryu’s openings.
The biggest factor in dominating the world’s top women players.
She’s credited with dismantling the modified mini-Chinese opening, popular among Korean pros.
Having Seoa, possibly the best at openings among women players, guide her is a rare privilege.
“Please teach me as you see fit, Master.”
“It’s not really teaching… More like studying together. Let’s play the first 50 moves repeatedly and discuss.”
“Understood, Master.”
“Master? That’s too much.”
Jia bows respectfully, but Seoa waves it off.
“If the women’s champion isn’t qualified to teach, who is?”
“…Okay. Then at least speak casually with me.”
“Let’s both drop the formalities. Cool?”
They’ve met often, but the formal speech still feels distant. Jia sees this as a chance to close the gap.
“Hmm… I’ll try…”
But Seoa is stubborn.
She seems to avoid being called ‘big sister’—is that why?
“Careful, it’s hot.”
The katsu and loach stew arrive.
The stew is placed in front of Jia.
“Here, eat up, little miss! You’re so cute, I fried an extra piece, so don’t leave any.”
“Uh… I…”
Before Seoa can say anything, the server leaves.
Disappointment is clear on the blonde girl’s face, thinking the order was mixed up.
“I ordered the katsu. Here.”
“Oh… Thank you.”
The girl looks relieved.
“You don’t like loach stew, do you? Did you order it for me?”
“No, I saw someone else order it, and it looked tasty. Plus, we got extra service.”
“Really? That’s good!”
Seoa, relieved, pours perilla powder and chives into her stew.
Her happy face, scooping a big spoonful, can only be described as old-man-like.
They say her father’s from Cardiff, UK—whose taste did she inherit?
Jia cuts her katsu, lost in thought.
*
A hearty lunch and coffee—nothing could be more satisfying.
I owe so much to Evergreen Go Academy since restarting Go.
Jia and I sit in a quiet corner, facing each other.
“Let’s play with time limits for some tension.”
I set the clock and take black.
Openings were my strength as Changmo Shin, and I’m the only pro here who’s experienced the AlphaGo era.
I want to expose her to as many openings as possible.
In a pro qualification tournament, you play three or more short games a day.
The importance of openings in short games goes without saying.
As if she’s studied extensively, Jia handles modern openings skillfully.
Her openings alone might surpass some women pros.
But the pro world is full of variables.
Players don’t always choose familiar setups or stick to standard moves for various reasons.
I deliberately pull out a 1970s opening, the incense knight’s move, unfamiliar to Jia.
I mischievously twist standard moves and break conventions.
First 50 moves. Black, me, has the edge.
We review lightly and start anew.
Alternating black and white, we repeat opening plays.
By the 20th game, focus starts to wane, so we take a break.
18 of 20 games favor me.
Even the other two, though slightly unfavorable, are playable.
In win rate terms, probably 90% or more.
“Let’s keep going.”
I munch a candy to recharge and speak.
“Okay!”
Jia’s spirit remains unbroken.
I use AlphaGo-era openings to challenge her.
She won’t master them in a day. But familiarity with diverse openings will be a huge asset in the qualification tournament.
I could just teach her a few setups to memorize. I’ve studied enough; their win rates are proven.
But mechanically following patterns will eventually become a shackle.
Knowing it’s not just about qualifying but thriving after, I push the harder path.
Failing as a pro, racking up losses, is worse than not qualifying and finding another path.
I don’t want Jia to end up like her former teacher, Yunseul Kim.
If success is unlikely, crushing that dream might be kinder.
But Jia has clear talent.
As games repeat, her mistakes decrease, and she adapts flexibly to unfamiliar moves.
“Let’s go again.”
I still dominate the openings.
It won’t happen in a day.
Since I’ve started teaching, I should do it right.
Rather than a soft teacher giving only kind words, I want to be one who’s strict but helpful.
I keep pushing Jia relentlessly.