The Heroine Stole My Regression

55 – Preparation (2)

-Twanggggggg.

The sound of the bowstring stretching beyond its limit filled the archery range’s firing lanes.

The taut tension, wound tight, felt almost too much to bear.

But she,

Ha Shion, did not falter.

Her fingertips locked firmly in place, she drew the arrow back to its absolute limit, until the arrowhead trembled ever so slightly.

And then.

-Thwack-!

The moment her fingertips released, the arrow shot forth with explosive speed.

It pierced the air in an instant, tracing a path so swift it left only afterimages.

-Crunch!

The arrow, striking precisely at the center, shattered the target in a single blow.

The feeling still lingered in her fingertips.

“Hah…”

Lately, her mind had become a battlefield.

A myriad of emotions swirled within, but one in particular clung to her deepest.

Guilt.

The course they’d altered, ostensibly for his sake, had ultimately forced him to endure that pain once more.

It was a necessary action, yet she couldn’t shake this feeling of apology.

As if water were rising in a sudden tide,

Her mind was flooded with the memories of another.

No. This wasn’t someone else’s memory.

‘My…memories.’

Clear memories, left behind by me, Ha Shion.

As if to herald the end of the onslaught, the peninsula was engulfed in a deluge.

The sound of the downpour was a lament for fallen heroes.

Black mourning garb.

The rain-soaked cloth clung, heavy and sodden, to her skin.

Rainwater trickled down her knees, flowing silently, ceaselessly, like weeping.

She sat before the Vanguisher heroes’ funeral, a figure of utter desolation, as the chief mourner.

Hashion had lost her parents young, yet never felt alone. There was her kind grandfather, and her uncles and sisters who trusted and followed him; she was not lonely.

Then, one day. Her grandfather brought a boy.

He was frail, without family. With a weak frame, he learned to fight from her grandfather.

She wanted to be his family. And, before she knew it, a new family was forged.

Hashion recognized the feeling that blossomed within her heart. She considered it friendship, yet she knew, for a long time, that it was more than simple friendship.

But she realized today that it was all for naught.

“Pardon…?”

An association employee arrived, bearing grim tidings.

Arranging rain-soaked documents, the employee recited the names of the deceased with a doleful expression.

It was a mission like any other.

And that seemingly ordinary mission led her to lose her entire family.

In a single morning, most of the beings supporting her perished.

All that remained was the boy, Jeong Haein. Only him.

She could do nothing.

Could not breathe, could not even lift her head.

“…hero fatalities, and student Jeong Haein is currently unconscious…”

But.

“Jeong Haein??”

She repeated. Her lips trembled.

Why were you even there?

It wasn’t death, but many predicted it. Some even said it might be better if he died.

That one sentence utterly shattered her.

Countless heroes offered condolences, laid flowers, and bowed.

She was the chief mourner. But she couldn’t muster the wherewithal to handle any of it.

Then. A murmur arose from the gathering.

She lifted her head. And a figure came into view.

A patient gown soaked with rain. An arm swathed in bandages, and blood blooming across the fabric from open wounds.

He limped slightly, favoring one leg, as if standing for long was a struggle. He looked utterly devastated.

“Haein-ah!”

It was him.

Hasihon shot to her feet and rushed to him without hesitation. He stood silent, merely gazing at the memorial portrait.

“…….”

Jeong Haein’s eyes were hollow.

And then, his lips parted slowly.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Sihon….”

He repeated the same words like a broken doll.

What was he so sorry for? She didn’t ask.

In the end, she too embraced him, and wept with abandon.

Her only reason left in this world to remain.

It was now, Jeong Haein.

That was all.

*

-Popopopang!

Ten arrows fired simultaneously. Strictly speaking, they weren’t fired at the exact same instant, but their speed was swift enough to be considered as such.

Rapid-fire.

All ten arrows pierced the bullseye of each different target.

The students practicing at the firing range began to buzz with murmurs.

Attention coalesced around her.

But she paid it no mind.

Instead, she slowly, deeply inhaled.

This time it would be different.

Hasihon closed her eyes and vowed.

*

The day after submitting her application. The club immediately sent a welcoming message.

And on top of that, news that we were to gather for club activities after class.

It just so happened it was a day for mentor-mentee activities, so I could naturally suggest it to Yoon Chaeha.

“Signed up for any clubs?”

She shook her head.

“Nope.”

“Then, how about this one?”

I opened my watch, displayed the poster, and held it out to her.

Yoon Chaeha, wearing a questioning look,

examined the poster on the watch.

-Board Game Club. Lexium.

“Oh….”

Her eyes twinkled.

Tilting her head slightly, she quirked her lips upward, showing interest.

“How do I sign up?”

“Already did.”

“Even for me?”

“Yep.”

I answered casually. She looked at me with a surprised expression.

“You’re my mentor.”

Adding that as if it were nothing special, Yoon Chaeha stared at me, momentarily speechless, before letting out a short chuckle.

After class, we headed towards the club room. Befitting a board game club, the room was a cozy space filled with various games.

However, only one person was sitting at the table inside.

“Oh, you’re here?”

A second-year student, wearing a pistachio-green polo shirt. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and was leaning back in her chair.

She raised an eyebrow slightly as she looked at us. And,

after checking the membership list on her watch.

“Seeing the names, I thought there was no way, but some celebrities actually joined?”

Her eyes were filled with interest.

“I’m Jo Seoyeon. I’m the club president.”

We greeted her.

I quietly shifted my gaze, taking in the interior of the clubroom.

Shelves stacked with board games.

A chess set resting on the table. A Go board settled in the corner.

“Where is everyone else?”

I asked my senior.

She chuckled, pointing somewhere with her finger.

“Gone to play something *very* expensive.”

The place she pointed.

The floor of the large room.

There, four blue cubes pulsed with light, spinning wildly.

‘So that’s it.’

Instant dungeon-style puzzles. They were probably enjoying their games within the activated magic space of each.

One puzzle space formed per cube.

Therefore, you could say there were about four teams.

“Aren’t you playing, sunbae?”

I asked, looking at her.

“Someone has to keep watch from the outside, you know. Even though it looks like that, in truth, based on the operational principles, it’s a dangerous device by a hair’s breadth.”

She added, pointing at the cubes with her finger.

Yoon Chae-ha tilted her head.

“Dangerous?”

The senior nodded slightly, explaining.

“You took the mock dungeon class, right? You can think of that as a miniaturized version of this device. Spatial exfoliation, mana backflow, well, there’s no end to the problems that can occur.”

It was only natural.

Frankly speaking, constructing an internal magic space couldn’t be easy or simple.

“Anyway, welcome to our club.”

Jo Seo-yeon lightly extended her hand.

“Just relax and have fun today. You can’t play the expensive stuff since it’s all in use, but there’s plenty else to do.”

I took her hand and shook it. Yoon Chae-ha followed suit.

“What do you want to do?”

I asked Yoon Chae-ha.

She glanced around, then smiled faintly and headed for the corner.

And there it was, a go board dusted with neglect. She sat before it, opening her mouth to speak.

“You know how to play?”

Expected.

That the board game she’d choose would be go.

Go is a battle where two players take turns placing black and white stones, striving to claim the larger territory. Once placed, a stone can never be moved, and the goal is to secure more houses than your opponent.

But the essence of this game goes beyond simple land grabbing.

With each stone laid, one must grasp the meaning imbued within that single move.

I answered quietly.

“Yeah.”

I’d played a few times with the old man. But not for long.

*Jeonin,* my talent had surpassed his in mere days.

Yoon Chae-ha would constantly try to measure me, to test me.

And I, in turn, simply had to pass those tests.

On the go board, our conversation was woven in stone.

-Tak.

-Tak.

Black and white.

Only the sound of stones being placed filled the air.

From the start, Yoon Chae-ha played without hesitation. Inducing chaotic skirmishes, forcibly drawing me out, swiftly expanding her domain. Every move she made was devoid of any waste.

Every shape textbook perfect. Efficient, the optimal flow.

Thoroughly, a sorceress’ go.

I merely followed along.

When she attacked, I parried. When she tried to unsettle the board, I drew a clear line, securing the bare minimum of gain.

-Tak.

-Tak.

A steady rhythm continued.

A rhythm of her taking the initiative, which I didn’t particularly try to seize.

I simply, let it be.

The game was drawing to a close.

Then—

– *Thak.*

Yoon Chae-ha’s hand froze.

She had played her gambit.

From here on, it was a battle of choices.

For her, who always sought efficiency…

She would have thought that leaving one space open in the middle and removing a stone was the most reasonable choice.

The most optimized move, born from much analysis and data.

From her perspective, it *was* the most rational play.

But I placed a stone where she least expected it.

– *Thak.*

Instead of leaving a space open and extending outward, I placed mine right next to hers.

Conventionally, leaving a space open in baduk is recognized as a nimble move.

Because it allows you to secure a wider territory and develop a favorable fight later on.

Then, what about the previous move?

I disregarded that common sense. By placing it directly adjacent.

The slowest, but one that demanded an immediate struggle.

It was the most aggressive play.

“…!”

This wasn’t a difficult or ingenious trick.

It was simply a move that directly refuted the ‘rational thinking’ she had built up until now.

A free-spirited move, only possible because I hadn’t played baduk as much.

Yoon Chae-ha’s hand remained still.

Her gaze lingered on the baduk board for a long time.

If it were an ordinary person, they would have overlooked this one move without a second thought. But not Yoon Chae-ha.

Picking up a stone, I said curtly,

“Gye-ga (計家).”

In baduk, after all the stones are placed, a process of calculating each player’s territory is necessary.

And these words were usually declared by the one with unwavering confidence.

Yoon Chae-ha snapped her head up and looked at me.

“……”

Smiling, yet seemingly enraged.

Her expression was a curious one.

Yoon Chae-ha began her calculations.

Her fingertips, tracing the black and white-occupied territory, lacked their usual sharpness.

Not merely following the current, but questioning, ruminating, attempting to comprehend.

One, two, three—

And then, she.

“Give me another game.”

Slowly, she placed the stone she held onto the board.