Alexei’s face flushed red.
It was deeply humiliating to have his own words thrown right back at him. But true to form as a first-rate chess player, he quickly regained his composure.
“Of course. Naturally, I should put something on the line too.”
Alexei looked over the spoils he had won. Then, as if introducing a prize, he extended his hand with his palm facing upward.
“How about all of these?”
“Huh? All of that?”
Seoha asked back in surprise.
“Yes. But on one condition.”
“I’m listening.”
“If you lose, sign my chessboard. With the phrase, ‘I did my best, but I couldn’t beat Alexei.’”
At that moment, Seoha remembered what Woohyeon had said in the past.
‘Let’s say you become a truly great mathematician one day and solve a Millennium Problem. Then some Russian bum appears on TV and gives an interview saying Yu Seoha’s chess skills were nothing special, that you weren’t even a match for him.’
Brrr.
Goosebumps rose on his skin.
Just as Woohyeon had said, if Alexei ever got a chance like that, he would definitely present that chessboard as proof.
“Why would you ask for something like that?”
Still, just in case, he checked.
“Because, Kiddy—no, Seoha, you look like you have more than enough potential to become a big shot in the near future. Honestly, I bet anyone here would think the same.”
Alexei looked around.
Several people who had been especially friendly toward Seoha awkwardly turned their heads away.
Alexei gave a faint laugh as he looked at them.
“So? Do you still want to do it?”
Seeing Alexei’s serious expression, Seoha nodded.
“Of course! I’m not going to lose.”
Ever since practicing with Woohyeon, Seoha had continued studying chess. In the process, he had come up with a few strategies, and he wanted to test them out as soon as possible.
“Good. I’ll tell you in advance, I’m quite weak at fast games. The more time I have to think, the stronger I get. So you’d better stay sharp.”
Alexei had never been suited to speed chess since he was young. He often lost to opponents he could have easily beaten if he had just a little more time.
“Then how about classical instead of rapid?”
Rapid was 10 to 60 minutes per player, while classical was 60 minutes or more.
Alexei was startled to see Seoha making a proposal that would, if anything, favor him.
“What?”
Was he being reckless?
If so, Alexei thought, he would punish him thoroughly. But the words that came out of Seoha’s mouth were completely different from what he expected.
“I want to face you at your strongest.”
The smile vanished completely from Alexei’s face.
“Don’t blame me if you regret it later.”
In the first game, Alexei had underestimated Seoha and had not played his best moves. Since Seoha was a child with little chess experience, it was no wonder he had let his guard down. But now he was in perfect condition.
On top of that, if they played classical, he was confident he could beat anyone.
“I won’t, even if I lose.”
Alexei nodded.
He had thought Seoha was just a gentle little kid, but he was a man worthy of respect.
“You know what? Now I genuinely want your signature on that chessboard.”
“I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Alexei began setting up the board again.
“If it’s classical, then this really is a true match. Are you both ready?”
Hans asked as he reset the clock.
Both Seoha and Alexei nodded at the same time.
“Then begin!”
After a coin toss, Alexei was White, and Seoha was Black.
Tap.
Alexei played e4 as his first move.
The King’s Pawn Opening, the most classical and aggressive beginning. It was the same move as the previous game, but the feeling was completely different.
After thinking briefly, Seoha responded with c5. The Sicilian Defense.
“The Sicilian, huh…”
Alexei murmured softly.
An opening that pursued complex calculation rather than balance. It was a signal that Seoha did not want an ordinary game.
From the early stage, Alexei spent time reading the position.
After pondering for ten minutes, he played Nf3. And from that moment on, his true skill began to show.
Brian, the Kentucky champion, had an estimated rating of 2,100. Alexei, who had beaten him in speed chess despite it not being his specialty, had to be considered above 2,300. A score only 200 points short of a grandmaster.
Given enough time, Alexei was strong.
Unlike the previous game, where he had relied on experience and patterns, he spent sufficient time on every move and gradually seized control of the entire game.
Once the game passed fifteen moves, Seoha realized he was in a much harder situation than he had expected.
‘This guy is really strong.’
His intentions were being seen through in advance.
“Bd3.”
Alexei developed his bishop and aimed at Seoha’s kingside. It looked like a simple move, but complex calculations were hidden behind it.
The students watching the game hurriedly brought over chessboards and began replaying Alexei and Seoha’s moves.
“Isn’t this move fatal?”
“No, look. If he does this…”
“Alexei has the advantage, six-four. No, seven-three.”
Meanwhile, Seoha was feeling an intense inner impulse.
He had not given Ducky any time all day.
The unresolved frustration violently churned, seeking an outlet. Every time a chess piece moved, he instinctively tried to calculate every possible variation.
‘All right, Ducky. Go ahead and do as you like.’
Seoha released the compulsion switch. Then he began to focus terrifyingly on the chessboard.
Tap, tap.
Seoha’s fingers drummed rhythmically on the table.
In his mind, the chessboard unfolded like a three-dimensional hologram.
Seoha’s vision changed completely. It was no longer an 8 x 8 grid, but a mathematical space where 64 coordinate points were connected by a complex vector network.
Along with the coordinates of each piece’s position, every possible path of movement appeared in real time. The knight as eight L-shaped vectors, the bishop as infinite diagonal lines, the rook as a cross of vertical and horizontal lines.
Ducky’s obsessive perfectionism made all of this possible.
In the current position, there were 21 possible move combinations, 18 responses from Alexei for each move, and 378 total possibilities after two moves.
But Seoha did not stop there.
Three moves, four moves, five moves—the number of possibilities expanding geometrically began to form a massive structure inside his head.
Generally, professional chess players read eight to twelve moves ahead. But Seoha was calculating more than twenty moves simultaneously.
For each choice, the win rate was calculated in real time. And he derived the optimal result. However, the game had already tilted considerably, so he needed a mistake from his opponent.
‘Found it.’
Just once, in the middlegame, he could create a situation where a Windmill would arise—a tactic using a knight and rook combination to repeatedly check and attack while sweeping up the opponent’s pieces.
The odds were fifty-fifty, but that was enough to bet on.
While Alexei attacked the queenside, the possibility of a counterattack would open.
Tap.
Seoha moved a piece.
“Huh?”
The students replaying the game looked flustered.
“A self-destructive move?”
“Isn’t it completely over?”
“There’s no answer to that.”
Sighs burst from the gallery. It was a move that clearly looked like a blunder.
Alexei, too, looked at Seoha in surprise. But he soon regained his cool and advanced his piece to finish the game.
However, Seoha did not move an inch.
As the game went on, Alexei’s attack was blocked more easily than expected. Even in positions where he thought he would gain a major advantage, he was strangely entangled and ended up with only minimal results.
Even so, Alexei was certain of victory. Seoha’s queenside was exposed to danger, and his own pieces had taken perfect positions.
Alexei advanced his queen. Qh5+.
It was then.
Tak!
Seoha’s knight suddenly leapt out to d4.
“Huh?”
The moment Alexei had pulled out his queen to attack, the defenses around his king had loosened ever so slightly.
The problem was that, thinking it would be an easy victory, he had not calculated deeply.
Alexei furrowed his brow and began reading the moves fiercely. And then he realized.
The moves Seoha had made, which he had thought were merely desperate measures, had all been camouflage to conceal the Windmill.
A single moment of carelessness had caused a major disaster.
The knight was aiming at the queen, but he could not move it. The triple and quadruple net of bishops and rooks continued to target the king. In the meantime, the knight swept across the chessboard as if dancing.
“Check.”
Tap.
“Check.”
Rook, bishop, even queen.
Seoha removed Alexei’s main forces one by one.
“Just how many moves ahead did he read? Fifteen?”
Hans muttered with an expression of disbelief.
“No, far more than that.”
Brian answered in a trembling voice.
“Do you think a player at Alexei’s level would fall for a trick like a Windmill so easily? He must have seen at least twenty moves ahead. And while setting a psychological trap too.
When Kiddy showed a weakness, he must have gotten impatient. Even I would’ve wanted to move the queen.”
At last, Seoha’s knight delivered the final check.
“Checkmate.”
Seoha’s declaration echoed quietly.
There was nowhere left to run. Every escape route had been seized by Seoha’s pieces.
Alexei raised his head and looked at Seoha, then smiled faintly.
“I resign.”
Before anyone knew it, students who had heard the rumors had gathered in the lobby. They were all surrounding the chessboard, each offering their own analysis and evaluation.
At Alexei’s declaration of defeat, they all cheered at once.
“Waaaaah!”
“Kiddy won!”
“That was a seriously insane Windmill.”
Dokyeong, who had been watching from a corner, had somehow run out and was jumping up and down in delight.
Amid the students’ cheers, Seoha’s consciousness gradually returned to reality. Seoha moved his hand slightly and adjusted the crooked chessboard so that it was parallel to the desk.
“That was really amazing. I was completely fooled.”
Alexei offered a handshake.
“It was fun.”
Seoha smiled brightly and accepted the handshake.
The world of chess was deeper and more mysterious than Seoha had thought. Alexei surely had not calculated it, yet he instinctively avoided dangerous squares. Thanks to that, Seoha’s calculations had gone awry, and he had been forced to struggle.
“Could I borrow a pen for a moment?”
At Seoha’s words, Alexei looked puzzled. Seoha took a marker, then turned the chessboard over and wrote on it.
[Alexei, the greatest chess player I have ever met]
Alexei read it and frowned.
“You said you’ve only played against one person!”
“But it’s still true that you’re the best.”
At Seoha’s words, Alexei gave a bitter smile.
“Even after you become famous later, I hope you’ll still say that.”
All the snacks piled on the table were returned to their original owners. However, since they had received many gifts as tokens of gratitude, the Korean team was able to enjoy a luxurious final party.
* * *
On the bus to the airport,
everyone’s expressions had relaxed, and they were grinning broadly.
“Are you that happy?”
Sujeong glared at him, but Dokyeong, as if he could not hear her, lovingly stroked the bronze medal hanging around his neck.
“Second overall, second! Do you know how much better we did compared to last year? Especially Jihun!”
Korea had achieved second place overall with two gold medals, one silver medal, and three bronze medals. Astonishingly, the owner of the silver medal was Seong Jihun.
“I was with Seoha the whole time in Korea and England. I really learned a lot.”
Jihun, who had matured noticeably over the course of the IMO, modestly lowered his head.
“Ah! When they called my name at the awards ceremony, I was seriously shocked.”
“I thought I’d completely blown it.”
“Me too.”
The trio of high school seniors had all won bronze medals. The faces of the third-years, who had finished on a high note, were filled with happy smiles.
“Still, Seoha was the real jackpot.”
At Sujeong’s words, everyone nodded.
“I didn’t know they would grade me this generously either.”
On problems 4 and 5, for which he had written his answers in a hurry, only one point had been deducted from each.
With a total score of 40, Seoha took first place individually in this IMO.
From what they had seen online, Korea was already in a festive mood. It was the country’s first Olympiad first-place winner in years, and at twelve years old, the youngest ever.
Sujeong recalled that moment.
The chairman of the IMO had gone up to the podium and called the medalists’ names one by one.
“Gold Medal Winners,
Seoha Yu, Liu Chen, Sojung Lim, Hans Müller, Alexei Volkov…. And Seoha Yu achieved the highest score!”
“I’m third again, you know.”
But Sujeong thought of herself as effectively second place. In her mind, she had long since excluded Seoha as someone outside the rankings altogether.
“Still, the Chinese kids had good manners.”
At Changseok’s words, the third-years nodded.
“Liu Chen? I didn’t think he’d congratulate us first. Did we look pitiful because we got no medals last year?”
“Their team leader and coaches didn’t look happy, though.”
The bus arrived at the airport, and they boarded the plane.
By the time they arrived in Korea after the twelve-hour flight, it was already morning.
Perhaps because they had achieved such good results, quite a few media outlets had come out.
A reporter hurriedly approached the students and held out a microphone.
“First of all, congratulations on your excellent results.
China has reportedly filed an objection regarding the grading of Yu Seoha’s answers, as he took first place individually. Are you aware of this?”
““What?””
Everyone, who had been excited about returning home in glory, ended up making blank expressions in front of the camera.