Surviving Restructuring

Jae-Hyuk and Ji-Eun shot to their feet, eyes wide.

“Hyungnim!”

“Eun-Ho?!”

It made sense because in the blink of an eye, Eun-Ho was standing on the table, sword pointed at the Gambler’s throat. One could only imagine their shock if they learned he had severed her arm, only for it to reattach itself perfectly.

Regardless, Eun-Ho lowered his sword and stepped back down from the table.

The Gambler tilted her head, sounding almost amused. “You sure you don’t want to keep holding it there? If it makes you feel safer, I don’t mind.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” Eun-Ho replied.

“Hmm? How so?”

He threw the words out flatly because her casually curious tone rubbed him the wrong way. “That body isn’t real anyway.”

Her lips parted slightly. Even behind the sunglasses, he could tell her eyes had widened.

“How did you figure that out?” She rested her chin on one hand, studying him with genuine interest. “No one else noticed the moment they arrived.”

He met her stare and explained, “I suspected it from the start.”

“What gave it away?”

“There were no shadows.”

The casino was lit in that distinctive red glow, but the green felt tables cast none. It had nagged at him from the beginning.

“Cutting your arm confirmed it.”

“Hmm. But nothing seemed unusual then. I didn’t even try to dodge.”

“The blood was the problem. It was too thin, with no viscosity. It seemed like stage prop blood.” He hadn’t been one hundred percent certain though. If he had been, he would have gone for her neck instead. “This place is your creation, isn’t it?”

It was a space without physical substance, likely a domain formed inside her own mind.

“You saw right through me. Hah, that kind of hurts my pride.”

“Then why did you invite us here? Why not move us all at once like before?”

She waved a hand lazily, as if his question required a complex answer. “Even the Lords of Heaven can’t move this many people without the Door.”

It was a statement heavy enough to settle like lead.

“Heaven’s Lords... As in those who rule the Sky Tower? People like you?”

“Oh, is that what you’re curious about?”

“It is.”

“Win the wager, and I’ll tell you.”

Now, he had another reason to win.

“Pick the next game,” she said.

He turned back to his team. “... Let me discuss it with the others.”

“How about rock-paper-scissors?” Jae-Hyuk suggested, raising his hand eagerly.

“Rock-paper-scissors?” Eun-Ho echoed.

Jae-Hyuk leaned in, lowering his voice as if he was sharing a brilliant strategy. “If you use your Acceleration skill, you can see what she throws and switch yours at the last second, right?”

Ah.

Eun-Ho had also considered that.

“That won’t work.”

“... Huh?”

“She would use Acceleration-like skills too. She’ll just match my speed.”

“No way. Is that actually possible?!”

“It is,” Eun-Ho replied, recalling the earlier exchange.

Jae-Hyuk swallowed hard. “There are too many monsters in this world...”

Ji-Eun lifted her hand next, hesitant but hopeful. “Um... There’s a game I might be good at.”

“Oh?” Eun-Ho asked. “Which one?”

“Jegichagi,” she said, referring to shuttlecock kicking.

“You’re good at that?” he asked.

“Well, no. I’ve never really tried.”

“Then why did you—oh.”

It clicked. If Ji-Eun lifted the shuttlecock once, her Psychokenesis skill would keep it from ever falling.

“With psychokinesis, you could juggle it forever I guess,” Eun-Ho said.

“Right? Then should I take this round?”

“No.” Eun-Ho rejected on the spot, which confused Ji-Eun. He elaborated, “Anything involving physical skill is out. We don’t know what abilities she’s hiding.”

Ji-Eun’s eyes widened in delayed understanding. He had learned earlier, painfully clearly, that her earlier rule was genuine.

“Ah, and no abilities allowed. This condition favors you, so don’t overthink it.”

However, if Acceleration didn’t work on her, then Psychokinesis likely wouldn’t either. The woman could have had a trick that dropped the shuttlecock instantly, or something stranger. That meant, they couldn’t rely on what they were good at. Her power—whatever its limits were—overshadowed theirs. They were left with only one approach.

“We need a game with fixed rules, meaning ones with no powers involved at all.”

Ji-Eun tilted her head. “Like what?”

“Chess. Janggi. Go.”

Then, immediately, every gaze turned to one person: the strongest and the last remaining Go prodigy.

Even the mentor looked at Wei, puzzled. “What? Who’s the kid supposed to be?”

Their mentor didn’t understand, but no one bothered to explain.

Then, Eun-Ho crouched down beside Wei. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll leave this round to you. Don’t force yourself though.”

He meant it. Wei seemed pale earlier, worn out from dealing with people and noise. Moreover, a game of Go required brutal concentration, including mental stamina, clarity and patience.

However, Wei only nodded once, expression steady. “... I’ll try.”

“You sure?” Eun-Ho asked, though he already knew the answer.

Wei was already staring at the Gambler, focused and unwavering. “Yes. I won’t be able to use my skills for the grand match, but if it’s a real Go board, I can play.”

“Wait.” Eun-Ho frowned. “Why can’t you use it?”

Wei fidgeted with his fingers, then answered quietly. “I left it on the kid.”

The kid? Eun-Ho thought.

“You mean Yul?”

Wei nodded. “... I’ll place a grand match.”

“Huh?”

“If she’s unable to participate, I’ll know right away.”

When they were first transported for OJT, Yul had been separated from the group. Worried that something would happen to the kid, Wei had set a grand match link to monitor Yul’s condition.

Eun-Ho had assumed it was just temporary, to calm Han-Wool at the time. He never imagined Wei kept it active all this time.

“Well, well,” Eun-Ho said with a grin. “Why’s your ear turning red?”

Wei instantly clamped a hand over his ear and ducked his head. “... It’s not. I’m not red.”

“Oh? Looks like it’s on fire to me.”

At least the kid didn’t seem nervous. That alone eased Eun-Ho’s chest a little.

Jae-Hyuk leaned in, patting Wei’s shoulder. “Are you confident?”

Wei lifted his chin with quiet pride. I’m confident I won’t lose.”

Of all times, this was where the kid got cocky. He was always shy around people, but talk Go and he turned arrogant.

How cute, Eun-Ho thought.

Regardless, the player was ready, and all that remained was the opponent’s agreement.

“For the second round, we choose Go.”

“Go, is it.”

“Do you know how to play?” Eun-Ho asked.

“Of course. We enjoy it here, too.” The Gambler slid her sunglasses down slightly. “You sure the kid can handle me? I’m pretty good.”

Wei didn’t flinch and said with a calm and unshaken voice, “I’m also pretty good.”

The Gambler barked a laugh. “Ha! What are you, kid?”

She moved to sit across from Wei. Then, a Go board unfolded into existence at the center of the table. “You take black.”

“I’ll give you six and a half komi[1],” said Wei.

“Pfft! Are you that confident?” The woman was amused.

In Go, black played first, giving initiative. To balance the advantage, white was usually granted komi, which were extra points. Six and a half was generous, but Wei simply waited.

“That’s okay. Just place your first stone,” said the Gambler.

“You’ll regret it...” Wei muttered.

The Gambler crossed her legs, amused, rolling a white stone between her fingers. “I won’t, so just worry for yourself instead, kid.”

Wei reached into the bowl.

Clink— Clatter—

The stones clicked together like glass beads. Then, he made the opening move.

[Round two begins.]

[Go will begin.]

***

On a green table under red lighting, Wei was having a match against a stranger across the board. He was glad the air lacked cigarette smoke. Any trace of it would have made the scene feel too real, enough to trick him into thinking it was his own memory.

He could almost hear a rough voice echoing inside his head. “... Nice, Wei! Beat that bastard and we will pocket thirty thousand yuan!”

His father was dead, so it couldn’t be real. He’d sold Wei to Public Security and died the same day.

“... Don’t grieve over the man who abandoned you. Your country is your father now.”

“... Yes sir.”

He had been grieving. His father had never done anything for him, but a father was still a father. When Wei won gambling matches, his dad patted his head. When they won big at the casinos—sometimes, or rarely—he even bought Wei snacks.

Though when they lost, that was frightening.

“Losing in prelims? What a useless brat!”

Public Security screamed the same way. Win, and everyone praised him. Win, and he was fed. Win, and they called him a good child. Therefore, he had to win.

“... I’ll win. I can do it.”

His first stone landed at the upper right star point. The Gambler mirrored him, placing white in the upper left. Corner by corner, black claimed the right side, white the left.

Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak...

The stones fell like raindrops, fast enough to blur.

“Whoa... He’s ridiculously fast.”

“Is he even thinking between moves?”

Wei’s hand darted across the board, never hesitating. There was no pause nor breath wasted. It didn’t matter if this was Earth or some unreal casino in the sky. Go was his world.

“Hey, he’s already building territory, isn’t he?”

“... Yeah. He’s more aggressive than I thought.”

Filling the gaps between early stones one by one, he linked black to black, weaving walls to shut white out. He was making a fortress so dense that white wouldn’t dare invade.

Attack is the defense, Wei thought.

Wei expanded without slowing. However, the Gambler answered quietly, almost timidly in comparison. She only made defensive moves and subtle responses.

“W-we’re winning, right?”

“We are.”

“That kid’s no joke. He’s keeping pace with the Madam herself...”

“Keeping pace? He’s dominating her.”

From opening to midgame, the board moved exactly as Wei guided it. Everything had been set up and stones scattered like seeds. Now it was time to reap.

Tak!

Threads connected and shape tightened. A net began to close, leaving one more move to complete it.

Just then, the Gambler hummed lightly. “Hmm.”

If she was blocked here, white would be shut out forever and be in dead shape. She was one breath away from collapse.

“Ah... So this is the feeling,” she said, smiling.

Then, with a single white stone, she dropped it into the upper-right corner Wei had not claimed.

Tak!

Huh?

Wei’s fingers froze mid-air, caught off-guard.

“... What a strange choice. Why would she place a stone in the empty air, Noonim?” Jae-Hyuk asked.

“Yeah. Isn’t she abandoning the territory she was building?” asked Ji-Eun.

Had she decided she couldn’t keep up? She stopped reinforcing her own house, and instead went straight for black’s throat.

“Are you giving it up...?” Wei murmured.

“Yeah.”

If Wei’s play resembled constructing a fortress brick by brick, hers was the opposite. She fought like someone gambling her life. It was a final blow, even if it cost everything.

“Gambling’s simple. You just need one big hit to win.”

Then, her attack surged forward. White stones fell like a sudden storm. Block here, and another point collapsed elsewhere. Defend there, and something deeper was carved open as if loss meant nothing to her.

White sacrificed groups by the dozen, clawing forward with unnerving precision. She struck akin to a bird hammering its beak against wood—relentless, exact and merciless.

Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak...

In seconds, the board flipped.

“... Are we sure this is okay?”

“It looks very bad!”

The bird’s beak pierced deeper. Its wings spread, tearing into Wei’s neat black framework.

Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak...

White stones encroached reminiscent of a great-winged bird, elegant and cruel. Territory formed in its wake, tightening around Wei’s breath, his stability and his vision.

Tak!

Then, white snapped through the heart of black’s shape. Wei felt as if his spine had been bitten through.

At that moment, a voice that was sharp and cutting rang inside his head.

“... Focus! Read ahead!”

“What a useless brat!”

It was something he heard every time at the Go Institute. He remembered the scolding after every loss, and the fear that carved itself into his bones. He shook his head, but the hallucination clung to him, suffocating him.

I-I can’t breathe... Wei thought.

Pressure crushed his lungs like an invisible hand squeezing. Pain spidered through his chest and vision dimmed, edges graying out.

I... I...

Wei blinked weakly, his face pale and lips drained of color.

Ding!

Just then, a hammer-blow sound cracked through his haze.

[You have a new message.]

A blue notification window burst across the board, akin to light shattering white wings.

Huh?

- To: Wang Wei

- From: Kim Yul

- Message: Opa. dfsa fgalkj sdf fgasdf.

Wei exhaled.

You dummy...

There was no emergency warning, but just a clumsy text. He thought she was probably bored, or messing around.

You can’t even type one short message properly?

Wei let out a thin laugh, air leaking through half-open lips. He inhaled and exhaled. Then, clarity snapped back into his eyes.

I’ll abandon the dead, Wei thought.

Tak!

As if turning a page, the air reversed. The sacrificed section was gone and forgotten in his mind. Wei cut losses cleanly.

Tak!

He slid sideways and aimed for white’s flank.

Tak!

He was ready for a feint like a lifeless bug, slipping into the bird’s belly.

Tak!

He spread from the inside out—wrapping, twisting and coiling. The new home he built wasn’t a fortress, but a snake den. A serpent wriggled into white’s throat and whispered, You thought you were swallowing me. But guess what? I am crawling through you.

“No! Wait!”

Wei’s black stones no longer formed a wall. Instead, they slithered and unraveled the wings. The beak snapped under coiling pressure.

Tak!

Then victory was sealed.

“... Shall we continue?” Wei asked with a smirk.

1. Komi (Korean: 덤) are compensation points given to the White player in the game of Go. ☜