Chapter 21: Defying the Odds

The exhibition match between Hayul Joo, 7th-dan, and Seoa Ryu, 1st-dan.

Too fierce for a welcoming game for a new pro.

It was expected to be one-sided, but Hayul Joo, 7th-dan, relentlessly presses without holding back.

“Oh! A brilliant move by Hayul Joo, holding white. No matter how black responds, it’s a tough spot.”

Jia Lee lies on the sofa, blankly watching the TV. As the commentator just said, Hayul Joo’s move forces a dilemma on black.

Caught between a rock and a hard place.

But her small teacher is no pushover. Jia felt it firsthand and was struck with despair when Seoa beat Yunsul Kim, 3rd-dan, despite a two-stone handicap.

A terrifyingly transcendent presence. And the little girl still hides frightening secrets.

That’s why Jia left the dojo without hesitation to follow her.

It might sound laughable to others, but Jia vaguely believes Seoa won’t lose to any female pro.

Trainee, pro, or titleholder—it doesn’t matter.

“Oh… this!”

After ten minutes of thought, Seoa Ryu plays a bizarre move, completely at odds with the sequences the commentator rambled about.

A move unthinkable by conventional standards.

A mistake placed in the wrong spot, or a breakthrough surpassing the understanding of a famous commentator and Hayul Joo, 7th-dan?

Jia personally believes it’s the latter.

The game spirals further into chaos with this cryptic move.

The battlefield expands from local skirmishes to an all-out war.

Hayul Joo still holds the initiative.

Instead of charging in, she carefully shapes the board to her advantage.

Her intense pressure feels like heavy artillery pounding the frontlines.

Before the smoke clears, her infiltrating forces breach the line at breakneck speed.

Nimble maneuverability.

Seoa Ryu’s core position faces annihilation by encirclement.

“This won’t be easy to block. There’s no visible escape.”

In the central struggle, Hayul Joo clearly has the upper hand. The commentator tries a few sequences, all leading to black’s ruin.

But Seoa Ryu doesn’t crumble easily.

She precariously maintains her supply line, deploying reserve forces at just the right distance.

The critical choke point is the bizarre spot Seoa chose when facing the dilemma.

Intentional or coincidental?

“Lucky for Seoa Ryu, 1st-dan! That spot is practically her lifeline.”

The commentator calls it luck, but Jia disagrees.

A stalemated frontline. Hayul Joo’s forces, once swiftly advancing, lose their freedom of movement.

Failing to achieve her goal, Hayul Joo is pushed onto the defensive.

Yet Seoa doesn’t press aggressively.

She methodically chips away at Hayul Joo’s isolated forces.

Watching is suffocating.

Hayul Joo’s resistance is desperate.

But her stones grow increasingly isolated, losing strength.

A belated retreat.

She preserves her forces but fails to achieve her objective despite heavy investment.

She’s taken a loss, but it’s not unrecoverable for Hayul Joo.

After her bold offensive falters, she pauses to regroup.

Likewise, Seoa closes her eyes, lost in thought.

A temporary lull. Jia pulls out her parents’ laptop to review the game so far.

A valuable learning opportunity.

The gap with her young teacher feels impossibly vast, but standing still only widens it.

She tries to grasp the meaning behind each of Seoa’s moves as black.

Perfectly mimicking Seoa’s thinking is impossible for her now.

Jia focuses on finding consistency in the sequence of moves.

“Oh…”

Something clicks.

A faint sensation, like a thin thread fluttering.

Feeling goosebumps, Jia carefully grasps the fleeting thread before it vanishes.

Gently pulling, the thread tightens.

Following it, she places moves, and Seoa picks up a stone.

Click.

Snap.

The sound of her mouse syncs with the crisp sound on TV.

Seoa’s move on the screen matches Jia’s click.

Click.

Before the commentator can suggest sequences, Jia’s mouse places stones.

Click, click, click.*

A lively exchange. If Seoa assumes her opponent plays optimally, it’ll end as Jia predicted.

After complex calculations, the score sheet shows black ahead by two and a half points.

“Move 213, 214, 215—if exchanged like this, there’s no room for change. Black’s ahead by about two points. Seoa Ryu, 1st-dan, played a brilliant move!”

Seoa and Hayul Joo exchange moves as Jia predicted, and after a few more, the commentator finally catches up with the assessment.

Hayul Joo sighs softly, sensing defeat.

But unable to throw in the towel, she continues the endgame.

The possibilities have dwindled since the midgame.

Seoa, who navigated the chaos without losing her way, won’t falter now.

With clean, error-free endgame play, she maintains the gap.

Only empty points remain.

Hayul Joo finally resigns.

She actually won.

“Ha.”

For Jia, it’s a dreamlike stage, yet the little girl stormed it effortlessly, defeating a female titleholder on her debut day.

It’d be a lie to say there’s no jealousy.

But picturing the innocent girl’s face, Jia can’t harbor ill feelings.

She closes the laptop and picks up her phone.

As expected, reactions pour in from trainees watching the match. Some purely admire Seoa’s talent, but most downplay Hayul Joo’s skill.

Well, that might be the common reaction.

It’s such an absurdly unbelievable outcome.

But Seoa will keep causing upsets. Will their reactions stay the same?

Jia smiles faintly and puts down her phone.

It doesn’t matter what others think.

More importantly…

“I saw it…”

She saw the board through Seoa’s eyes.

It’s like adding one line to a mostly solved problem, but she’s thrilled.

Their constant games must have paid off.

“Alright.”

Not wanting to lose this feeling, Jia logs into online Go.

She may never reach Seoa, but she’ll stretch toward her footsteps.