Chapter 15:The Fan of Resolve

“….”

Before white’s desperate final strike can hit black’s critical point, black releases its grip and collapses limply.

Prepared for death, but the battle ends anticlimactically before he can confirm if his last effort succeeded.

A move so poor it contradicts the high-level Go black played until now. Pilgyu Park, 9-dan, looks up at the girl, stunned by the baffling blunder.

“Ugh…”

Clutching her head, the girl breathes heavily, her flushed face showing pain.

Their two-hour time limits ran out long ago. She used four of her countdowns, while Pilgyu Park exhausted all five.

Five hours have passed since the match began.

So immersed, they ignored the world beyond the board.

As the tension releases, crushing fatigue sets in.

Even an adult would be exhausted, but for a young girl, it’s an unbearably long ordeal. She must have been utterly desperate. Her stamina likely ran dry ages ago.

If she endured this far on willpower alone, her mental strength and endurance are extraordinary.

Ten seconds remain for Pilgyu Park’s final move.

His best option is to end her suffering quickly. Without hesitation, he delivers a fatal blow to black’s main group.

“…Ugh.”

She held on to her limit, but she must have sensed the end. Soon, she places two black stones on the board, signaling surrender.

Too hollow an end for such a long, fierce battle.

If she’d been in a normal state, if she’d played her best move, could his final strike have reached her? He can’t help but wonder.

But suggesting a review now would be cruel, given her condition.

Not just her physical state—her eyes are clouded with a somber hue.

As an aging pro facing his own physical limits, Pilgyu Park knows the devastation of losing to a body that won’t keep up.

Silently, he picks up the fan beside him and opens it wide.

The calligraphy he inscribed reads: Guilshin Ililshin Uilshin—If you wish to renew each day, make every day new, and renew again. Words said to be etched on the washbasin of King Tang, founder of the Shang Dynasty, who overthrew the tyrant of Xia.

To truly renew each day, strive daily to improve, and improve again. Despite the world’s doubts that his time was over, Pilgyu Park endured in this harsh world by never neglecting self-discipline.

Humans can never reach perfection, but they can improve. Even small, consistent changes lead to great ones. He’s always believed this, and he will continue to.

For over twenty years, he carried this fan to every major match. Win or lose, it kept him from despair or complacency.

Pilgyu Park folds the fan and gently hands it to the girl, who scans the board with heavy eyes. A girl with boundless potential. He hopes she keeps moving forward. Then, one day, he’ll surely have a chance to confirm if his strike landed.

“It’s not much, but take it as your match fee, Master Ryu.”

“…What? I couldn’t possibly accept something so precious.”

“Haha, precious? It’s just an old trinket from a dusty geezer’s collection.”

He takes her hesitant hand and presses the fan into it.

Her eyes widen briefly, then soften as she carefully opens the fan. Whether she grasps the inscription’s meaning is unclear, but her gaze is noticeably calmer.

“…Thank you. I’ll repay this kindness.”

“When you become a splendid pro, you’ll make your own calligraphy fan. If we meet again, just give me one of yours. Haha.”

“Yes. I promise.”

Seoa Ryu nods with a resolute look.

“Phew, looks like both you and I are in for a rough time. I’ll go out first and draw the reporters’ attention, so slip away quietly, Master Ryu.”

Camera flashes burst periodically, signaling the reporters’ fervor.

Pilgyu Park stands, brushing himself off, and smiles.

“…Heh, thank you for your kindness, Master.”

“Haha, kindness? Hardly. For an old man with no one to talk to, chatting is life’s joy. The reporters will probably get bored and leave first.”

The faint smile of the sprightly, granddaughter-like girl washes away the match’s fatigue. With a fond look, Pilgyu Park exits the special match room.

On the way back to my grandfather’s house after the NJ Fire Insurance Cup Group I final.

I clutch the calligraphy fan from Pilgyu Park, 9-dan. A faded fan, marked by time.

To an outsider, it might seem worthless, but to me, knowing its value, it’s priceless.

Even before the concept of world tournaments was established, Pilgyu Park carried this fan to every prestigious international event he won. It’s been his pillar, his companion.

“Cough, cough.”

My body’s a mess, with a slight fever and cough.

The past four days of the integrated preliminary were grueling for this frail body.

Still, though my body is heavy, my heart is light.

I even considered quitting Go after losing, drained of stamina, but this fan lifted my spirits. I laugh at myself, but its inscription captured my heart.

This isn’t my limit.

There’s surely room to improve. Thinking positively eases my mind.

– Bzzz.*

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

Opening the flip phone, I see it’s my mother.

“Hello? Mom?”

“Hey, Seoa! I watched your match today! Your grandpa was right to make a fuss. Your dad and I are clueless about Go, but we listened closely to the commentator!”

“Haha, if I’d known you were watching, I would’ve won… Are you disappointed? I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. They said your opponent was incredible. How could you, who never studied Go systematically, beat him?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

I didn’t expect to reach the main tournament, so I aimed for the experience. Still, the regret lingers.

“How’s Dad doing?”

“He’s fine, except for going on about missing you! The doctor said he can be fully cured with chemo, no need for a donor or transplant!”

“Really? That’s such a relief…”

I sigh deeply, stroking my chest. Truly a silver lining in misfortune.

“He was holding out to talk to you, but the match was so long he fell asleep. He might be discharged briefly around your school start, so we’ll see him then. I’ll call again when he wakes tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mom. I love you. Please tell Dad I love him too.”

“I love you too, Seoa. But next time, call us Mom and Dad, not Mother and Father. Your dad says hearing you say ‘Dad’ is his lifelong wish.”

“…I’ll think about it.”

I already called Jia Lee “unnie,” so calling my parents Mom and Dad shouldn’t be impossible.

Though it’ll take some resolve…

“Alright, you must be tired, so I’ll hang up. Don’t put Grandpa on—he talks too much.”

“Okay, rest well too, Mom.”

Though we haven’t been apart long, I miss her voice as I close the phone.

“Mm.”

I didn’t achieve my goal, but there are still plenty of chances. For Mom, Dad, and Grandpa, I have to keep pushing.

I open and close the fan, steeling my resolve.

“…Yawn.”

Hanging up, fatigue hits hard.

I lean back in the seat.

My eyelids grow too heavy to resist.