I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 128

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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 Much Money-Making Talent — Episode 128
Dormitory.
After finishing my shower, I stretched languidly as I stepped out.
Being the first day, the training schedule wasn’t as grueling as it might have been.
“Tomorrow it starts in earnest.”
I glanced at the schedule posted on the table.
5:30 a.m. wake-up.
About an hour of running, then breakfast.
Training packed tightly into morning and afternoon slots.
After dinner came athlete treatment and personal conditioning.
It was a relentless grind with no time to breathe, but I had no complaints.
As a national representative bearing the Taegeuk Mark, I expected nothing less.
“…Oh? Jung Soo-yeon called me twice.”
Two missed calls showed on my phone screen.
It seemed like she needed to coordinate something about my schedule.
The call could easily run long, so I threw on a padded jacket and slipped quietly out of my room.
Creak.
I opened the entrance door and rounded the corner.
As I pressed the elevator button, voices drifted through the hallway.
“You struggled with the Recurve Bow, but now you’re a national representative in Compound…that’s pretty funny.”
The voice dripped with mockery.
Lee Kyung-woo’s response followed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just that you couldn’t even find a team with the Recurve, but the moment you switched to Compound, you became a national representative. That’s wild.”
My brow furrowed involuntarily.
To anyone listening, it was an insult aimed not just at Lee Kyung-woo but at the entire Compound discipline itself.
‘Who is this?’
From context, it sounded like a Recurve national representative, and there seemed to be personal history between the two of them.
“Work hard. Once you get used to shooting with that sight mounted, who knows—maybe you’ll get lucky and snag a bronze medal so you can skip military service?”
Low laughter accompanied the sound of someone patting him on the shoulder.
“Whether it’s a career shift or a demotion, I can’t say…but do your best anyway. Who knows how long the Compound medal will even stick around.”
Contempt and ridicule.
Every word was calculated to get under Lee Kyung-woo’s skin.
After enduring it silently, Lee Kyung-woo finally spoke low and flat.
“You…I’ll do well.”
His voice was taut with suppressed emotion.
For someone as introverted as him to speak that way meant real anger.
Sure enough, the other voice seemed to catch slightly.
But just for a moment—then something in his tone sharpened, as if the comment had struck a nerve.
“Lee Kyung-woo, you…”
Ding-dong!
The elevator arrival chime sounded.
The voices from down the hall cut off at the same moment.
I hesitated briefly, then stepped into the elevator anyway.
If I emerged now, it would look like I’d been eavesdropping.
I descended to the ground floor and stepped outside.
Pulling up the zipper on my padded jacket against the night breeze, I called Jung Soo-yeon.
“Hello?”
-Ah, there you are. Sounds like you were busy? It’s nothing major, just that Seonhwa made an urgent request.
“A request?”
-Yes, they’d like Kim In-ha to start as the team’s number one player in the League Opening Match.
“…Just like that? It’s completely out of the blue.”
I tilted my head in confusion.
My contract as a foreign mercenary stipulated only five games for the season.
Considering the regular season championship race and the playoffs to come, I didn’t see why they’d need to field me for the opening match.
-But the terms aren’t bad. They’re offering a Special Bonus Prize if you play in the opening match and win, plus they said they’d give you major promotional coverage.
“Is that right? Will the schedule work out?”
-Yes, we can spare just two days. You can’t return to Korea, but we think it’ll work if you go straight from China to Europe to do the Checkmate shooting.
“Then I’ll do it.”
I agreed without hesitation.
If the schedule permitted, there was no reason to refuse.
Having signed a contract meant responding when the team needed me—it was both courtesy and obligation.
I hung up and headed back to the Dormitory.
Thud.
As I shut the door and stepped into the living area, Lee Kyung-woo stirred from the bed.
His expression seemed a touch strained.
“Where have you been?”
“Oh, just had to take a call. But listen—can we talk for a minute?”
Lee Kyung-woo nodded and came into the living area.
I poured us each a drink and we sat facing each other at the desk.
“I happened to overhear something in the hallway earlier.”
“…Ah, so it was you after all.”
He’d clearly known someone was there.
He smiled ruefully and continued.
“Moon Hee-sung—the Recurve guy—he’s my high school classmate. We fought it out in a team event before going to university, and… we both got knocked out in the round of sixteen. Neither of us ended up at the school we wanted. Things soured between us after that.”
It wasn’t an unusual story.
Conflict arises even among people who start a team with the best intentions.
But if they both wore the Taegeuk Mark despite such friction, they must have had talent from the start.
“He’s been like that whenever he runs into me since then. I barely saw him after I switched to Compound, but…”
Lee Kyung-woo glanced at me uncertainly before adding.
“The thing is, Recurve athletes tend to look down on Compound a bit. They say it’s more about equipment advantage than actual skill… some even claim it’s not an official Olympic event. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve said things like that myself.”
Compound is only an official event at certain international competitions like the World Championships and Asian Games.
Since it’s not an Olympic event, it falls behind in tradition, history, media exposure, and public recognition.
And with all the auxiliary equipment involved, the stigma of “equipment advantage” persists.
“So do you agree with that?”
“No. Not at all.”
Lee Kyung-woo waved his hand dismissively.
“…I switched to it out of necessity, but I prefer Compound. I think it’s just as impressive a discipline as Recurve.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
“That reason you just gave? That’s exactly why I chose Compound.”
“Sir?”
“Our country’s Recurve is a world power, isn’t it?”
“Yes, well… it is.”
“And Compound?”
Lee Kyung-woo thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“No.”
“Exactly. Is winning a medal in an event where we’re already strong the same as winning gold in uncharted territory?”
“Ah.”
If I’d chosen Recurve, I would never have challenged myself.
Our country is already good enough without me.
But Compound was different.
Because it was a field that had never shone on the international stage, I could pursue it without hesitation.
“So whatever happened in the past, don’t worry what anyone else says. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
Lee Kyung-woo’s face brightened considerably.
He looked like he’d shed a weight.
I felt lighter too.
‘This one definitely needs mental management.’
Now that I thought about it, Nick Cutter and his coaching staff were truly impressive.
The evaluation and feedback he’d given me in that earlier private meeting showed it.
Assigning Lee Kyung-woo and me to the same room when we first arrived at the Athlete Village—that had its reasons too.
‘…I need to learn as much as I can here.’
The Olympics.
A place where the world’s elite Compound archers gathered.
Even I couldn’t win gold on talent alone in a arena like this.

* * *
Except for the first day, the Athlete Village schedule was almost identical.
At 6 a.m., the entire national archery team assembled for about an hour of cardio work.
After that, mornings and afternoons were spent moving between indoor and Outdoor Archery Range facilities for cross-training.
Records and routine checks, responses to winter wind shifts—nothing overlooked.
Evenings were for core strength training and muscle therapy to prevent injury, then sleep.
The pattern alone seemed ordinary.
But from the fourth day, something shifted.
Physical conditioning took a back seat to “scientifically designed mental and concentration training.”
The first was Psychological Visualization Training.
Eyes closed, mentally rehearsing the entire motion of drawing and releasing the bowstring while stabilizing heart rate and breathing.
Second came the Concentration Maintenance Game.
Wearing heart-rate and eye-tracking equipment, holding a steady gaze on a target for a set duration.
Once both finished, they moved straight into Competitive Simulation Training.
A test to see who could sustain focus longest under pressure.
And the results came in.
A unified ranking across all archery disciplines, all male and female representatives combined.
“You’re crushing it, first by a landslide?”
Lee Kyung-woo’s eyes went wide as he looked at the standings.
Kang Jae-young, the eldest, was equally stunned.
“I’ve been doing this training for years and my heart rate fluctuates way more than yours. How are you basically a flat line?”
“……It’s probably thanks to Baduk, I’d say.”
I laughed it off, but the likelihood was high.
Baduk is warfare waged in silence.
Each stone placed draws blood.
Even in contests that drain you, you must suppress emotion and think coolly one move ahead.
For someone like me, who’d faced world-class players in countless matches, this kind of environment was second nature.
“You did great too, Kyung-woo. Second overall, no less.”
“Yeah, but it feels a bit strange, honestly.”
“Well done. If you keep your mental game like this, you’ll shoot even better in actual competition.”
As the eldest, Kang Jae-young praised Lee Kyung-woo.
And I agreed entirely.
Since the training was designed specifically with competition in mind, it seemed certain to help in actual tournaments.
That’s when Lee Kyung-woo, barely suppressing his pleased expression, muttered something meaningful.
“……Looking at the overall standings, we Compound archers rank higher than the Recurve side.”
“That’s right.”
A pleased laugh broke out.
In reality, first, second, fourth, and seventh place were all Compound shooters from our team.
Third and fifth were women’s Recurve archers sandwiched in between.
Looking at this training scoresheet alone, we clearly outranked the Recurve side.
“Ready to grab food?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
We turned with refreshed spirits.
That’s when our eyes met the Recurve archers standing off to the side.
Brief but weighty silence.
Invisible rivalry sparked between us.
But that was only a moment—after finishing afternoon training, my mind was already on nothing but dinner.
Just as we were gathering equipment to leave the Outdoor Archery Range.
“Oh, I think I left my Arm Guard behind.”
Lee Kyung-woo stopped rummaging through his bag and turned back.
“Go ahead. I’ll grab it quick and catch up.”
He slung his gear bag firmly over his shoulder and jogged back toward the shooting line.
“Then let’s head out first.”
Park Sang-mo followed after Kang Jae-young, who was already walking ahead.
I’d been walking at the back, and now I paused.
“……Should you two go on ahead? I’ll wait for Kyung-woo and catch up with him.”
“You sure?”
Their footsteps faded into the distance.
I turned right around and headed back toward the competition grounds.
There was no real need for me to look after Lee Kyung-woo.
He’s a grown adult who could handle things fine on his own.
And yet.
‘Something just feels off about leaving.’
For some reason I couldn’t just let it go, so I turned back.
Perhaps it would be different.
At the range.
Moon Hee-sung and Lim Sang-wan, both Recurve Bow national representatives, stood side by side.
Lee Kyung-woo stood before them, his expression strangely rigid.
Even from a distance, the atmosphere didn’t seem good at all.
I drew closer, softening my footsteps.
That’s when I caught Lim Sang-wan’s words.
“So he was mocking us, saying the Compound archers rank higher than we do?”
“What?”
Lee Kyung-woo looked flustered, unsure how to respond.
A casual remark thrown out carelessly earlier.
I hadn’t meant to compare or belittle anything.
But the words had circulated, gotten twisted in the retelling, and somehow reached the ears of the Recurve team.
Moon Hee-sung squinted, his tone dripping with contempt.
“You didn’t shoot well—the equipment just did the work for you, didn’t it?”
“That’s not it.”
Lee Kyung-woo cut him off firmly.
But there was a subtle tremor at the end of his voice.
Moon Hee-sung’s mouth twisted into a sneer.
“Yeah? Then why don’t we compete stripped of all gear? Or wait—without the equipment, you can’t even hit the target, can you?”
Lee Kyung-woo’s expression hardened completely.
An insult to the entire Compound discipline.
I couldn’t stand by and watch any longer.
“If you’re that confident, why don’t you compete with me?”
My voice rang out lightly across the range, and all three turned to look at me at once.
The moment our eyes met, Moon Hee-sung’s gaze wavered almost imperceptibly.
I spoke slowly, but with absolute clarity.
“I’ll take you on with your own specialty—the Recurve Bow.”

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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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