Chapter 22: Pro debut

“Phew…”

I clutch my throbbing head.

As the tension fades, my overloaded brain empties, craving rest.

Seoa Ryu’s first match as a pro.

Every move is recorded, and a single mistake could spark gossip.

I’m not sure if it was a satisfying game.

But I gave my all each moment, whether the moves were brilliant or blunders.

I have no regrets.

“Good game. Can we review?”

An unwelcome match. A bitter defeat.

Yet she shows no sign of it.

A pro’s composure, unfazed by victory or loss. Watching her, I calm my excitement from my first win.

“Of course! Good game!”

I clear the board with her and review from the first move.

I share my strategies and thoughts, and Hayul Joo, 7th-dan, does the same.

Rivals, but also companions. Climbers scaling the endless peak of Go together.

It’s often lonely, but sharing insights like this fuels us to climb higher than we could alone.

Hayul Joo asks detailed questions, resolving doubts and dissecting her mistakes before finishing the review.

“I learned a lot. Honestly, I played thinking I’d see how good you are… a bit cocky. I’m embarrassed.”

She bows her head.

“No, no! It’s natural to think that!”

“Anyway, congrats on your pro debut win! You’ll rack up official wins soon! As for me… I’ll avoid electronics for a week… go analog. It’s nice. Phew…”

Hayul Joo sighs heavily. She’s likely dreading online hate. I get it.

When I was on a losing streak, searching my name brought up mockery and scorn—still vivid.

But it’s something pros in any field must endure.

If you can’t, you’ll crumble completely, like Changmo Shin.

“I’ll head out… Win or lose, it was really fun…”

With a drawling tone, she stands and leaves.

The review took a while.

I exchange brief thanks with the staff and leave the venue.

“Great job, Seoa!”

Mom and Grandpa, waiting outside, greet me.

Mom hugs me and kisses my cheek, handing me a bouquet.

With my pro certificate and flowers, my hands are full.

Heavy…

“Ugh…”

“Here, let Grandpa carry them.”

“Thanks!”

Even after a week of training, my strength is pathetic.

I need to keep at it to be remotely functional.

“Thought you’d lose since she’s a champion, but you’re like me—so creative! Even with weak fundamentals, you win.”

“Daughter, Seoa’s strength is her fundamentals! Her solid base lets her frail body focus long and throw creative moves sometimes!”

“But she never studied Go formally, right?”

“She must’ve studied hard alone! Fought tooth and nail!”

A trivial spark ignites a debate between Grandpa and Mom.

“Mom, Grandpa… I’m tired and need a rest…”

I feign exhaustion to change the subject.

“Oh, right. Let’s go, dear.”

“Sorry, Seoa! I’m drained just sitting, so you must be exhausted!”

People who care for me more than necessary.

To not let them down, I must keep pushing.

Dad’s hospital bills. Family expenses.

For now, results matter more than my growth.

I must forget today’s win and keep moving forward.

Supported by Mom, I renew my resolve.

First day of school.

A giant banner hangs proudly at the gate.

Congratulations! Seoa Ryu, 4th Grade, Class 3, OO Elementary, Becomes Pro Go Player! —Faculty and Students*

I worried this might happen, but facing it, I’m dizzy.

Clutching my aching head, I cross the gate.

Different era, different gender—it feels fresh.

But that’s it.

My mental age and interests don’t align with kids, so I naturally drift apart.

Not quite bullied… but a loner, maybe.

No friends beyond greetings.

My social skills are dismal.

I cautiously open the classroom door and slip into my seat. It’s early.

Except for a few studying kids, the classroom is nearly empty.

I pull out a book to read.

Since restarting Go, I hunted down AI-related books. In Korea, “artificial intelligence” is still unfamiliar.

No Korean books exist, so I got an English one.

Thanks to my Welsh dad, I’ve studied English since childhood—lucky.

In Korea, AI interest spiked in 2016 with AlphaGo’s invasion, but in Europe, awareness hit in 1997 when IBM’s Deep Blue beat a chess champion.

Papers and books flooded, and companies invested heavily in practical applications.

While Korea and the Go world idled, they honed their weapons.

Even facing defeat, they clung to vague optimism and surrendered.

History will repeat.

AI will surpass humans, inevitably.

Not just in Go—lawyers, doctors, investors, executives, teachers, service jobs.

It’s faster to think what machines can’t do than what they can.

What are their weaknesses? What do they lack? What makes humans unique?

To answer, I need to deeply understand AI’s essence.

Flipping pages, the kids’ chatter grows louder.

So do the sharp glances aimed at me.

But no one approaches.

“…Hi.”

A soft, whispering voice from the boy sitting next to me.

My desk partner.

“Hi.”

I greet him warmly, but the shy boy avoids my eyes.

He’s not timid. Good at soccer, active, with lots of friends unlike me. Jinsung Kim, I think.

But with me, he’s quiet and can’t meet my gaze.

I assume my clumsy social skills make it awkward… but living half a century across lives and still failing to befriend my desk mate is pretty sad.

“…Congrats.”

He mumbles, half-turned, embarrassed.

“Oh… Thanks.”

Rarely exchanging more than two words, I’m surprised and bow.

“…You won’t come to school much now?”

His voice sounds subdued.

“Huh?”

“You’re a pro now, right? Saw it on TV. Mom said it’s like having a job.”

“I’ll get busy, but I’ll keep coming to school.”

As a pro, I might take high school equivalency exams, but I plan to finish elementary and middle school.

“…Good.”

Jinsung nods, sounding relieved.

But the conversation dies.

If we could talk even this much normally, we’d be friends by now.

I sigh inwardly and open my book again.

“Everyone here?”

Morning homeroom. The teacher scans for empty desks.

“First period is math, so don’t doze off. Seoa?”

“Yes!?”

“Come with me for a bit.”

My homeroom teacher calls me aside, and I follow quietly.

“Sit, make yourself comfy.”

In the staff room, she sits me down and rummages through the fridge.

“Here, drink. I never knew our quiet Seoa was hiding such a secret.”

She pulls out two chocolate drinks, smiling gently.

I can see other teachers glancing my way.

News spreads fast…

“The principal said to support you as much as possible.”

“Okay…”

“If you get a schedule, come to me. I’ll accommodate you!”

“Thank you!”

I was wondering how to ask, so her offer eases my mind.

“So, speaking of…”

“Yes?”

“At lunch, could you play Go with the principal? Please!”

She clasps her hands, looking apologetic.

It’s not a big deal…

“Sure, that’s fine.”

“Phew, great! Class is starting, so go back.”

“Okay.”

The banner suggests the principal’s a Go fan.

It’s not a tough request.

I head back to class, thinking little of it.