Episode 55: Preparation (2)
-Twang.
The sound of a bowstring being drawn past its limit filled the archery range.
The taut tension of the string was wound so tightly that it became burdensome to hold.
Yet, she—
Ha Sion did not stop.
With her fingertips firmly fixed, she pulled the arrow to the extreme, so much so that the arrowhead trembled slightly.
And then—
-Bang!
The moment her fingers released, the arrow shot forward with explosive speed.
It pierced through the air in an instant, tracing a trajectory so fast that it left an afterimage.
-Crunch!
The arrow struck dead center, shattering the target in a single blow.
Her fingertips still tingled with the sensation.
“Ha…”
Lately, her mind had been a battlefield.
She felt a whirlwind of emotions, but among them, one feeling lingered the deepest—
Guilt.
The changes they had made for his sake had, in the end, forced him to endure that pain once more.
It had been the right thing to do.
Yet, she could not shake off this overwhelming remorse.
As if water had suddenly surged in,
Her mind was drowned in someone else’s memories.
No. These were not someone else’s memories.
‘My memories.’
They were the unmistakable memories that I, Ha Sion, had left behind.
***
As if signaling the end of the assault, the peninsula was engulfed in torrential rain.
The sound of pouring rain was a lament for the fallen heroes.
Dressed in black mourning clothes,
The heavy, rain-soaked fabric clung to her skin.
Raindrops fell onto her lap, flowing endlessly and silently, like tears.
She sat there, dazed,
Attending the funeral of the Vanquisher heroes as the chief mourner.
Ha Sion had lost her parents at a young age, but she had never felt alone.
She had a kind grandfather and an uncle who trusted and followed him, as well as older sisters who cared for her.
Because of them, she was never lonely.
And then, one day, her grandfather brought home a boy.
He was weak and had no family.
With his frail body, he learned to fight under her grandfather’s guidance.
She had wanted to become his family.
And before she knew it, he had become a part of her family.
Deep in her heart, she recognized the emotions that had taken root.
She had thought of them as friendship.
But deep down, she had always known—
It was never just friendship.
And on this day, She realized that it had all been in vain.
“…What?”
An association employee approached with tragic news.
Sorting through rain-soaked documents, he read the names of the deceased with a sorrowful expression.
It had been a routine mission.
But that seemingly ordinary mission had taken away almost everyone she held dear.
Overnight, the pillars that had supported her crumbled.
The only one left was that boy—Jung Haein.
She could do nothing.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t even lift her head.
“…The heroes have perished, and Jung Haein is currently unconscious…”
But then—
“Jung Haein?”
She repeated his name, her lips trembling.
Why…?
Why had he been there?
Though he had not been declared dead, many believed it was only a matter of time.
Some even said that death might have been kinder.
That single remark shattered her completely.
As countless heroes paid their respects,
Offering flowers and bowing,
She stood as the chief mourner.
Yet, she had no mind to oversee anything.
Then, she heard a commotion.
She lifted her head and saw a lone figure.
Drenched in the rain, clad in a hospital gown.
His arms wrapped in bandages.
Blood seeping through his torn wounds, staining his clothes.
He limped slightly, as if standing itself was a struggle.
His appearance was wretched.
“Haein!!!”
It was him.
Ha Sion leaped to her feet and ran toward him without hesitation.
But he said nothing.
He merely stood there, gazing at the memorial portraits.
“……”
Jung Haein’s eyes were empty.
Then, his lips slowly parted.
“…I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Sion…”
Like a broken doll,
He repeated the same words over and over.
What was he so sorry for?
She didn’t ask.
Instead, she pulled him into her embrace—
And wept uncontrollably.
For her, the one and only reason left to stay in this world—
Was Jung Haein.
Nothing else.
***
-Thwack thwack thwack!
Ten arrows were fired simultaneously. Strictly speaking, they weren’t released at the exact same moment, but their speed was enough to make it seem that way.
Rapid fire.
All ten arrows struck the center of their respective targets with perfect precision.
The students practicing at the archery range began murmuring amongst themselves.
The surrounding attention was now focused on her.
But she didn’t care.
Instead, she took a slow, deep breath.
This time, it would be different.
Closing her eyes, Ha Sion made a vow.
***
The day after applying, the club sent a message welcoming me immediately.
Additionally, they informed me that club activities would take place after classes and that I should join them.
Coincidentally, it was also the day for the mentor-mentee program, so I naturally brought it up to Yoon Chae-ha.
“Did you join any clubs?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then how about this one?”
I opened my watch, pulled up a poster, and handed it to her.
With a curious expression, Yoon Chae-ha examined the poster displayed on the screen.
-Board Game Club: Lexium.
“Oh…”
Her eyes sparkled.
Tilting her head slightly, she smirked, showing interest.
“How do I sign up?”
“I already did.”
“For me too?”
“Yeah.”
I replied nonchalantly. She looked at me, startled.
“I’m your mentor, after all.”
As if it was no big deal, I added that last part, and after staring at me in disbelief for a moment, she let out a small chuckle.
Once classes ended, we headed to the clubroom. As expected of a board game club, it was a cozy space filled with various games.
However, only one person was sitting at the table inside.
“Oh, you’re here?”
Wearing a light green collared shirt, she was a senior in her second year. Her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail as she leaned against her chair.
Upon seeing us, she raised an eyebrow slightly. Then, after checking the club’s member list on her watch—
“I had a feeling when I saw the names… Seems like some famous people joined.”
Her gaze was filled with interest.
“I’m Jo Seo-yeon. I’m the club president.”
We greeted her politely.
I quietly scanned the clubroom.
A shelf stacked with board games.
A chess set placed on a table.
A Go board tucked away in the corner.
“What about the others?”
I asked the senior.
She chuckled and pointed somewhere.
“They’re off playing something expensive.”
Following her gesture, I looked towards the spacious area of the room.
There, four blue cubes glowed brilliantly, spinning wildly.
‘So that’s it.’
An instant-dungeon-style puzzle. Most likely, the other members were inside, enjoying their own games within the activated magical spaces.
Each cube formed one puzzle space.
That meant there were about four teams inside.
“Aren’t you joining them?”
I asked, looking at her.
“Someone has to stay outside and keep watch. It might not look like it, but in terms of mechanics, it’s a pretty risky device.”
She pointed at the cubes as she explained.
Yoon Chae-ha tilted her head.
“Risky?”
The senior gave a slight nod and elaborated.
“You remember the simulated dungeon class? You can think of these as a miniature version of that system. Spatial collapse, mana reflux—there are countless things that could go wrong.”
That was only natural.
After all, constructing an internal magic space was anything but simple.
“Anyway, welcome to our club.”
Jo Seo-yeon extended her hand casually.
“Just relax and have fun today. We can’t use the expensive stuff since they’re all taken, but there’s plenty else to do.”
I shook her hand, and Yoon Chae-ha followed suit.
“What do you want to do?”
I asked Yoon Chae-ha.
She glanced around, then grinned as she walked toward the corner.
There, she sat in front of a Go board, covered in a thin layer of dust.
“Do you know how to play?”
I expected it.
That she would choose Go as her board game.
Go is a game where two players take turns placing black and white stones, competing to claim a larger territory. Once placed, a stone can never be moved, and the goal is to secure more space than the opponent.
However, the essence of this game is not mere land grabbing.
Every move carries meaning, and one must decipher the intent behind each placement.
I answered quietly.
“Yeah.”
I’ve played a few times with the old man. But not for long.
As a Jeonin [(全人) (All-Rounder)], my talent surpassed his within just a few days.
Yun Chae-ha would keep testing and evaluating me.
And I simply had to pass each test.
On the Go board, our conversation was spoken through stones.
— Tak.
— Tak.
Black and white.
Only the sound of stones being placed echoed between us.
From the very start, Yun Chae-ha played aggressively. She led the battle into chaos, forcing me into unfavorable positions while swiftly expanding her territory.
Not a single move she made was wasted.
Every formation followed textbook principles—efficient, optimal.
A methodical, wizard-like Go.
I merely followed along.
If she attacked, I defended. If she shook the board, I drew a clear line and secured only the minimal necessary gains.
— Tak.
— Tak.
A steady flow of moves continued.
She controlled the game, and I made no effort to wrest it from her hands.
I simply let it be.
The match was approaching its end.
Then—
— Tak.
Yun Chae-ha’s hand paused.
She had thrown her decisive move.
From here on, it was a battle of choices.
For someone as efficiency-driven as her, She would assume that the most rational decision for me was to leave one space open and remove my own stones.
The most optimized move, calculated through endless analysis and data.
From her perspective, that was the only logical choice.
But instead, I placed my stone somewhere unexpected.
— Tak.
Instead of leaving a space open, I placed my stone directly next to hers.
Conventionally, in Go, leaving a gap between stones is seen as a swift and strategic move.
It allows for greater territory control and sets up advantageous positions for future battles.
Then, what did my move signify?
I ignored that convention.
I placed my stone right next to hers.
The slowest move—yet one that demanded an immediate clash.
The most aggressive move possible.
“…!”
It wasn’t a complex trick.
It was simply a direct refutation of her deeply ingrained “logical thinking.”
A move born from not having played too much Go.
A move unrestricted by conventional wisdom.
Yun Chae-ha’s hand stopped.
Her gaze lingered on the board for a long time.
A typical person would have passed over this move without much thought.
But Yun Chae-ha was different.
I picked up a stone and spoke briefly.
“Gye-ga [(計家) Counting].”
In Go, once all stones are placed, the final step is counting the territories each player has secured.
And this phrase is usually declared by the one who is confident in their victory.
Yun Chae-ha’s head snapped up, and she stared at me.
“…….”
She smiled, yet seemed annoyed.
Her expression was hard to read.
She began calculating.
Her fingers traced the board, counting the captured territories.
Unlike before, her movements weren’t sharp.
She wasn’t merely following the flow.
She was analyzing, reconsidering, and trying to understand.
One, two, three—
And then, finally, she spoke.
“Play one more game with me.”
She slowly placed the stone in her hand back onto the board.