I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 109

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Too Many Lucrative Talents 109
“Then we’ll watch Moonlight Artisan’s performance first!”
With host Kim Woo-jin’s smooth introduction, the stage went dark.
As the lights came up again, the backing track flowed out.
Big Mama’s “Resignation.”
A masterpiece that screamed out the bittersweet ache of parting.
Moonlight Artisan picked up the microphone and let his voice spill out like a murmur.
Speaking, confessing.
A sincerity that was neither confession nor soliloquy—it spread through breaths that seemed to tremble with tears.
‘Ah.’
Just one phrase, yet it created a resonance that drew the audience into absolute focus.
Breath that fractured.
Deep notes that pressed down on the chest like a weight.
And reaching the chorus, a explosive high note that burst forth as if emotion could no longer be contained.
‘…Even I’m moved by this.’
It was poignant.
Not a sound forced out artificially.
Emotion that broke through restraint.
And precisely because of that, it crumbled further, and became all the more truthful.
As if to prove it, the celebrity judge panel’s reaction was explosive.
“I’ve heard many covers of this song, but this is the first time I’ve heard a male vocalist sing it like this.”
Cha Tae-ho, the music producer panelist, spoke with admiration.
“It’s too good. No, it’s too wonderful. This is really…… cheating, absolute cheating.”
Shin Jeong-a, the comedian panelist, grew emotional.
From the general audience panel seats came murmurs of admiration and emotional breaths.
Some wiped their eyes; others hung their heads under the weight of it all.
And then came Yoon Jin-seok’s single remark.
“I think I know who this is. Not hiding the vocal technique either. Seeing this person sing with such sincerity like this, I guess they didn’t want to lose…… Checkmate is in danger. The King of Song won’t be easy to defend.”
Behind my mask, I watched every moment and took a deep breath.
I agreed with that assessment too.
Moonlight Artisan’s performance was impeccable and moving to that degree.
‘I have a sense of who it is.’
A vocalist with vocal prowess that comes close to legendary Shin Jae-ho, though not quite reaching him.
One of Korea’s finest vocalists, someone who carries the weight of years in their voice.
‘I’ll do my best.’
I erased the thought of winning from my mind.
This stage—if not now, I could never stand on it again.
So that no regrets would linger.
I, too, had finished preparing to pour out every emotion.
“Next, we have the King of Song, Checkmate.”
As host Kim Woo-jin’s words ended, the stage sank into darkness again.
The backing track began.
A piano melody spread out gently.
The OST from the drama Immortal Love.
“Where You Touch Like First Snow.”
Immortal Love, who could not die and lived an eternity.
The story of a love that came to save him and then vanished.
A drama I didn’t usually watch—the one and only work I watched all the way through.
But it was a song whose range and expression I’d never dared attempt at a karaoke bar.
‘Now I can sing it.’
For the past ten days, I’d rented a practice studio and sung alone through the night, rehearsing.
For this moment.
Slowly, I laid the first lyrics into the melody.
Before I knew you
The days I lived through
Felt like just another season
Within an endless
Darkness that would not end
You came to me so brilliantly
Years of solitude.
Neither dead nor alive—a being caught between worlds.
From the moment he first recognized love, to the moment he lost it.
I wove that emotion, that loneliness, into every breath.
If someday
we meet again,
don’t ask me anything—
just hold me close.
I swallowed hard, pressing down the surge of feeling in my chest.
Guarding against excess, I distilled the emotion into sound.
And then the chorus shattered into a high note.
Emotion on the edge of a cliff.
I pushed that desperation through my voice.
Even if I loved again, even if I turned back time, I would wait for you once more.
Just as I did then.
I would reach you first.
I held the final note, stretching it long.
My fingertips trembled. My chest ached.
All the practice, all the expression, all the emotion.
I gave everything.
When the accompaniment ended, the Studio fell silent for a moment.
I opened my eyes quietly.
Beyond the mask, I could see the expressions of the celebrity Judge Panel.
Somewhere between amazement and shock, they stared at me, entranced, their eyes never leaving my face.
Clap, clap clap.
The silence broke into thunderous applause from the civilian Judge Panel.
Only then did comedian Shin Jeong-a pick up her microphone.
“Wow…… I can only say wow. Every single note just grabbed hold of me.”
Idol Ain nodded silently.
“My chest feels so tight. I was so immersed I even imagined breaking up with a boyfriend who doesn’t exist.”
“Ah, so it was imagination?”
Host Kim Woo-jin asked playfully.
“Of—of course! Obviously!”
Caught off guard for a moment, Ain answered boldly, and laughter rippled through the Studio.
This time Yoon Jin-seok took the microphone.
“I’m certain now.”
“Certain of what?”
“Checkmate—not the person we suspect. I’m sure of it. I felt it today.”
He continued with an utterly serious expression.
“The voice might sound similar, but this person is a singer. I know a bit about vocal technique, and there’s no way a non-professional could produce this range of sound.”
“……Yoon Jin-seok, aren’t you a comedian?”
Comedian Shin Jeong-a delivered her jab right on cue.
But Yoon Jin-seok didn’t back down.
“I’m making a prediction. It’s not that person. This is a real singer.”
With a characteristic finger gesture pointing at me, he delivered his conclusion firmly.
Music producer Cha Tae-ho agreed.
“I usually don’t agree with what Yoon Jin-seok says, but today we’re on the same page.”
He spoke calmly, settling his breath.
“The depth of Checkmate’s sound isn’t something an amateur can produce. This level of resonance, this emotional power—it requires a seasoned professional, someone with years of training. The person everyone suspects…… it won’t be them.”
I smiled quietly behind my mask, watching the two of them.
‘They’re barking up the wrong tree.’
But perhaps even this misunderstanding was part of what made the show’s charm.
A world of masks where no one could predict, where anyone could be fooled.
Then Cha Tae-ho continued his evaluation carefully.
“……And it felt like this wasn’t so much a competition as an effort to express their own music. Not to win, but as if Checkmate was showing us what this song could sound like when they performed it. That’s what moved me more.”
‘Ah.’
I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Right. I hadn’t sung to win.
I only wanted to share my best.
Within the limits of my talent, the song and emotion that I could give.
And now.
Many of the judges nodded in agreement.
The fact that it had come across,
made this stage all the more unforgettable.
As the lingering sense of emotion began to settle, host Kim Woo-jin stepped forward to center stage.
“Well then…… so, who will be today’s victor?”
Boom-boom-boom-boom.
With tense, pulsing drum music, the spotlights converged overhead on the Moonlight Artisan.
I too drew a quiet breath.
A moment where even a breath seemed like noise.
“Will a new King of Song be crowned in the Masked Singer, or will the current King of Song, Checkmate, successfully defend the title…… Let’s now confirm the judges’ choice!”
The lights gradually dimmed, and a digital countdown appeared on the massive screen.
Tension hung in the air.
3, 2, 1.
The countdown ended and the screen froze.
Boom!
The result flashed across the giant display.
50 : 49.
By a single vote.
And yet that victory was not mine.
The overhead lights cascaded down like a waterfall onto the Moonlight Artisan.
“Congratulations! The 247th King of Song is the Moonlight Artisan!”
Host Kim Woo-jin’s powerful voice resonated through the studio.
In that instant, a ripple of shock passed through the judges’ section.
Disbelief written across their faces.
Some tilted their heads back with a sigh; others gripped their heads in their hands.
Astonishment and regret, mingled with applause.
In the midst of those conflicting emotions, Cha Tae-ho spoke.
“I can’t believe it.”
Shin Jeong-a murmured quietly in response.
“One vote? Wow, really…….”
It was a dead heat.
A difference in votes so narrow that it was only right—a match so fiercely contested.
Behind the mask, I was smiling.
‘…… From the beginning, the title of King was too much for me anyway.’
A place where one could smile even in defeat.
This was it.
‘I have no regrets.’
I gave everything.
My song, my emotion, and this moment.
Though I had to relinquish the title of King of Song, there was no lingering attachment.
Host Kim Woo-jin returned to center stage.
“Now then, it’s time to remove the mask!”
At those words, even the sound of breathing was swallowed in the studio.
Silence.
Everyone waited quietly for that moment.
The climactic scene of this Masked Singer broadcast.
Perhaps even more nerve-wracking than the voting results.
As the music swelled, I turned away.
My hands slowly lifted the mask.
Loosening the ties, I drew back the fabric.
Slowly. Very slowly.
And as I turned to face the judges, the lights exploded.
“The identity of Checkmate was…… professional Baduk player Kim In-ha!”
Kim Woo-jin’s voice filled the studio.
In that instant, gasps and cries of shock erupted from the judges’ section.
“Really?”
“No, that can’t be right!”
“Wow…… Kim In-ha, seriously?”
“No way, no way…… this doesn’t make sense.”
Some stood with their mouths hanging open.
Someone couldn’t help but gasp in admiration.
Every camera turned toward me, and the lights quietly enveloped me in their glow.
I brushed back my disheveled hair and smiled.
Then, slowly, I bowed my head in greeting.
“Kim In-ha is a truly versatile talent who excels in sports, intellect, and sensibility. Currently the number one trending topic! A professional Baduk player and national representative in Compound Archery, creator of a famous tteokbokki recipe, and King of Song! A wealth of unprecedented talent!”
Applause poured down.
In the midst of that roar, I stood quietly.
The sensation of the spotlight enveloping me.
Their welcome reached me as a wave of relief—proof that I had shown a stage without shame.
“…It was real.”
It was Yoon Jin-seok.
As if in disbelief, he stared at my face in a daze.
Comedian Shin Jeong-a picked up her microphone.
“Yoon Jin-seok, why are you so quiet? You were so certain before.”
Her tone carried a vein of laughter.
Host Kim Woo-jin joined in with a chuckle.
“Surely you have something to say?”
Yoon Jin-seok picked up his microphone and looked at me directly.
“…What exactly are you?”
His expression was more serious than ever.
“What kind of person does all this—Baduk, archery, singing… Does that even make sense?”
His tone was accusatory.
I smiled faintly and picked up my microphone.
“Did I do something wrong?”
My counter-question drew a beat of delayed laughter from the Judge Panel.
“Ha ha ha.”
The atmosphere softened considerably.
Host Kim Woo-jin spoke again with a smile.
“Cha Tae-ho also said it definitely wasn’t you, didn’t he?”
Music Producer Cha Tae-ho gave a bewildered nod.
“…Kim In-ha.”
His voice carried sincerity.
But then it shifted, much like Yoon Jin-seok’s, to a questioning tone.
“Why didn’t you pursue singing? You should have done that first.”
“Did I do something wrong again?”
Another counterpoint.
The studio filled with laughter once more.
Cha Tae-ho followed along with a quiet laugh and a nod.
“We’ve become desperate to hear your singing now. We hope you’ll keep sharing it with us in the future.”
Yoon Jin-seok picked up his microphone again.
“Say, Kim In-ha, a thought just occurred to me. Your mask name is Checkmate, right? You’re not…planning to play chess too, are you?”
Half joking, half serious.
But at that question, the eyes of the Judge Panel all focused on me at once.
I laughed quietly.
“Why do you think I wouldn’t?”
A brief but meaningful answer.
The Judge Panel stirred, repeating “Is it real?” and “Again?” over and over.
“Look, look. Intelligent people always lay down foreshadowing, they say. Kim In-ha, we look forward to seeing your next triumph in chess as well.”
Laughter spread at the joke-laced remark, and the atmosphere concluded warmly.
Following that flow, host Kim Woo-jin stepped forward.
“Now, let’s hear Kim In-ha’s final remarks.”
I slowly picked up the microphone.
I took one deep breath and opened my mouth quietly.
“…With my humble abilities, I’ve truly been so happy to stand before you all under the name Checkmate.”
There was so much more I wanted to say.
But it all fell short of what words could hold.
So I closed with just one sentence.
“The story of Checkmate ends here…but the story of Kim In-ha will continue on. Thank you.”
I bowed my head slowly.
Thunderous applause erupted.
The lights on stage began to fade one by one, and gentle music drifted through like morning mist.
I turned.
And walked slowly toward the wings.
Exit.
It was not an ending.
It was the beginning of the next stage I would write.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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