Chapter 4: Betting Baduk

Seo Gilsu, the owner of Evergreen Go Club, watches the gambler scurry out without looking back and turns his gaze to the blonde girl.

She’s calmly clearing the board, as if nothing happened.

The man who just fled was someone Seo Gilsu had been itching to confront.

A shady customer who relentlessly targeted weaker players for bets.

Rumors said he cheated when losing and lied about his rank.

He was a regular, and confronting him risked a fight, so Seo Gilsu had been unsure what to do.
But the girl neatly resolved that problem.

After such a public humiliation, he probably won’t show his face here for a while.

But right now, the game he just witnessed overshadows thoughts of that troublesome customer.

Even replaying it in his mind, he can’t rationally make sense of it.

It’s not the Go of a child or a beginner who’s barely learned the game.

Of course, age is just a number, not a measure of strength.
Nowadays, some pros in their teens dominate with winning streaks.

But a child is still a child—emotional, impulsive, and reliant on intuition.

When attacked, they counterattack; they prioritize short-term gains over long-term benefits.

And when they’re ahead in a position, they never let go first.
These are traits he’s observed while teaching kids at the Go school.

But this girl’s Go was different.

If he hadn’t seen the player himself, he’d have thought it was a seasoned middle-aged amateur master.

Amateur games differ greatly from professional ones.
If a pro’s game is a disciplined boxing match, an amateur’s is a back-alley brawl.

All sorts of dirty, cheap tricks and bizarre moves far from standard play abound.

He’s heard that even talented students at the Korea Baduk Association, destined to become pros, often lose to lowlife tricks and traps at local clubs until they learn better.

The girl’s opponent was not only skilled at tricks but also strong at reading.

Yet she effortlessly countered his deep, experienced ploys—something impossible without rich experience.

She turned the gambler’s trump card into a trap, seizing the advantage and launching an attack.

An extremely efficient and refined offensive.
She relentlessly took gains without overreaching, tormenting her opponent.

It’s hard to believe this is a child’s Go.

But one game alone isn’t enough to judge.

Men crowd around the girl, clamoring to challenge her.

At the club, weak players aren’t popular opponents.

A big skill gap offers little to learn and less fun, so unless money’s involved, few bother playing weaker opponents.

But a strong opponent is different—especially a new one.
Facing an untested rival offers fresh excitement and sparks competitive spirit.

The club’s popularity hinges on how many strong players it attracts.

A neatly dressed man is chosen as her next opponent.

Jung Woonil, the club’s top player at strong 1-kyu.
President of a Go club with dozens of members and a successful mid-sized business owner.

Among the club’s visitors, he’s undoubtedly the strongest.

The girl and Jung Woonil agree to a handicap game with her placing one stone.

All eyes focus on the black stones she holds.

“Hm?”

Upper-right corner, 3-3.
It’s not an incomprehensible move, but unlike the commonly played star point, small knight, or large knight, it’s rarely used as a first move.

An extremely territory-focused move to secure one corner.

Jung Woonil, smiling with interest, responds with the lower-left star point.

Move three is a small knight in the upper-left corner, slightly high.
Her intent to secure both corners and the upper side is clear.

Jung Woonil plays a symmetrical small knight in the lower-right corner for move four.

Move five.

Instead of attaching, she plays two spaces away from her upper-left small knight, preparing to expand influence.
Since it’s a handicap game, Jung Woonil can’t afford to let Black take territory freely.

But he jumps one space from his lower small knight, taking a breath.

Move seven.

She plays a standard one-space jump from the lower-left star point.
As Jung Woonil attaches to secure the corner, she extends upward, strengthening her influence on the left side.

Jung Woonil jumps one space to expand influence on the lower side, and she counters by placing a stone on the left side’s star point.

A move that tempts an invasion, as the left side is still vulnerable.

Jung Woonil takes the bait, invading the left side, and their stones begin to intertwine.

She’s strong.

From the way she holds the stones to the focus in her eyes, there’s no hint of distraction.
A strong 1-kyu at this club could likely play pros with just a one- or two-stone handicap.

Unlike the gambler, whose skill gap was obvious, I can’t afford to relax for even a single move.

“…”

Of course, I’m not saying I lack confidence in winning.

My professional-level skill hasn’t fully returned, but playing as I always have, I should manage a win somehow.

This is Go that once reached the pinnacle.

As Ryu Seo, my reading, intuition, and position judgment are untested, but even if they’re not exceptional, following my accumulated knowledge and habits should get me to a level where I could make a decent living as a female pro.

But what do I truly want?

Is it just for money? For my family’s sake?

Or am I chasing something more?

Playing as I did in my past life won’t lead to new heights.
A rigid, stereotypical Go will only hit the same walls.

To challenge myself anew, I must tear down what I’ve built and start over.

That effort will be painful, filled with failures, and sometimes despair.

If it’s just for my family, there’s no need to choose the hard path over the easy one.

Didn’t I decide to dedicate this life to my family?

“…”

If the answer is clear yet I’m still hesitating, the reason is obvious.

I’m using my family as an excuse to dive back into Go.

In the end, I’m hypocritical, selfish, and greedy.

With my father’s fate uncertain, I’ve used his illness as a defense mechanism to justify returning to Go.

But knowing this, I can’t stop.

The moment I hold a Go stone, I feel no emptiness.
Reborn with my past life’s memories, I’m already bound to this world.

Without Go, my spirit can’t be fulfilled.

It’s time to choose.

Will I climb toward the top alone, knowing failure and despair await, as in my past life?
Or will I settle and look to those around me?

I play a first move that breaks from habit.

Upper-right corner, 3-3.

“…”

It’s the first step of Ryu Seo, breaking free from Shin Changmo, as a Go player.

“Hm, I lost.”

A grueling match lasting 297 moves.

Jung Woonil tosses his stones.
Even if it had continued, Black likely would’ve won by two or three points.

“I learned a lot.”

The girl’s expression isn’t great.

Perhaps because, had it been an even game, she’d have effectively lost.

But for a ten-year-old to play on par with Jung Woonil, an amateur top-tier player, is already astonishing.

Her grandfather can’t hide his shock, showing what a stroke of luck it is to have found Ryu Seo here.

The nearly two-hour game has left her visibly exhausted.

“Seo, come back with your grandfather next time. I won’t charge you, so come whenever you’re free and play a game, alright?”

Seo Gilsu, not wanting to miss this rare talent, makes her an offer.

A pretty girl alone would draw customers, but one who can play near strong 1-kyu level?
The impact is unimaginable.

With her current skill, she could aim to become a female pro.
If that happens, the future publicity would be substantial.

“Um… is that okay? Won’t others feel it’s unfair?”

She looks cautious, worried about receiving special treatment.

“Haha, you think we’re petty enough to get jealous of a kid? Don’t worry, just come back.”

“Sure, sure. You look tired today, but next time, play me too.”

The club’s customers chime in, easing her concerns.

“…Thank you. I’ll come back often.”

She bows in gratitude, and the customers cheer with delighted faces.

“Say, shouldn’t we renovate the smoking room properly, Owner? I’ll cover the cost, so let’s fix it up this time. Haha.”

Though nominally smoke-free, the smell of cigarettes leaks from the smoking room as customers come and go.
Jung Woonil, who faced her, laughs heartily and makes the suggestion.

Seo Gilsu nods, inwardly thrilled.
Jung Woonil seems quite taken with this newfound rival.

“If it’s alright, could we review the game together?”

She cautiously asks Jung Woonil.

“Of course. I was about to ask you the same. Little lady—no, can I call you Seo?”

“Yes, call me whatever’s comfortable, Mr. Jung.”

“Alright, Seo. Why did you play here…”

Jung Woonil and the girl move to an empty board, starting to review their game.

“I didn’t know my granddaughter had such passion and talent for Go. Her parents never mentioned it.”

Her grandfather grumbles, a bit hurt, as he watches.

“You did well bringing her here. It’s been lively for the first time in a while.”

With an aging main clientele, the club had grown stale, but a young girl’s presence brightens it up.

“If you’re ambitious, Ryu Sabum, I’ll back Seo fully.”

Having run the club for years, Seo Gilsu’s network in the Go world is extensive.

With ambition in his eyes, he whispers to her grandfather, Ryu Sangho.