I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 130

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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 Profitable Talents — Chapter 130
Day 8 in the Village.
Athlete Village Analysis Room.
Nick Cutter, the Compound National Team Coach.
Coach No, Coach Jung, and the Analysis Room director had gathered.
“Here are the results from the first half of training since arrival.”
A large screen flickered on.
On the left, a combined Compound and Recurve men’s and women’s rankings table.
On the right, the Compound men’s and women’s rankings displayed side by side.
“Overall, the average scores are higher than last year’s national team players.”
“What’s encouraging is that we’re holding our own even in competition with the Recurve athletes.”
Nick Cutter nodded slowly.
Compound and Recurve were entirely different disciplines.
Yet by extracting averages through scientific data and converting them into equivalent metrics for comparison, this was what they had found.
And within that data, Kim In-ha’s name stood out unmistakably.
“……Honestly, In-ha’s scores are nonsensical. They’re the highest we’ve ever recorded in the opening phase.”
“It’s not just a strong heart. His heart rate, his breathing variations are nearly zero.”
“And his shot accuracy shows the least fluctuation. Intuitive yet mechanical.”
The National Archery Team’s training system was designed on the premise of extreme conditions.
Each shot was calibrated to impose maximum psychological pressure.
Within that crucible, Kim In-ha was recording performance figures that stood out singularly.
“……The psychological evaluation results are also intriguing. His self-esteem indicators are abnormally high, they say.”
High self-esteem was another way of saying he trusted his own ability.
Nick Cutter, who had been staring through the monitor with his arms crossed, finally spoke.
“Because he’s a professional Baduk player.”
“Pardon?”
The eyes in the conference room snapped toward him in unison.
“He’s played thousands, no tens of thousands of games against the very best in the world…… and never lost a single match.”
“……Yes, I’ve heard he’s undefeated.”
Coach No offered his agreement.
Undefeated.
Even across disciplines, the weight of that symbolism was extraordinary.
An era where every sport had leveled upward.
And within that, to have shown overwhelming performance in Baduk—the implications were substantial.
“He carries the weight of every move onto each arrow he shoots. That’s not just skill—it’s the unshakable belief in himself.”
Everyone nodded quietly.
In truth, there had been skepticism until arrival at the village.
His performance in the preliminary matches was acknowledged, but whether he was truly the right caliber for the national team remained in question.
The fact that he hadn’t been selected through the standard process also weighed on minds.
And he had no actual tournament record to speak of.
The simple fact that he was too famous was also a concern.
Whether he could withstand the volume of national team training.
But after arriving at the village, those doubts had become meaningless.
Different discipline or not—he was a competitor who had fought on the world stage with more ferocity and breath-stealing intensity than anyone else.
He had proven it through his training results.
“This is a separate matter, but…… a few days ago, there was apparently a disagreement with the Recurve team’s youngest. However.”
The Analysis Room director paused to collect himself before continuing.
“There’s talk that In-ha shot Recurve with Moon Hee-sung and it ended in a draw.”
“……What? A Compound national athlete shooting against a Recurve national athlete? That doesn’t make sense.”
Coach Jung furrowed his brow in protest.
“It doesn’t make sense…… but there are witnesses.”
Silence settled over the conference room.
Eyes searching each other’s expressions.
No one could speak first to determine what was actually true.
Nick Cutter uncrossed his arms and leaned back slowly in his chair.
A faint smile spread across his lips.
“The fact that it sounds impossible…… that’s what makes it even more intriguing.”
Everyone’s eyes turned toward him.
“A once in a generation talent—whatever the sport, he’s the kind of athlete who always finds a way to win.”

* * *
The winter training camp passed in a blink.
Fourteen days felt like fourteen minutes.
A regular routine, the quiet pleasure of tracking how my body changed day after day.
And more than anything, the time spent with the teammates I’d just met.
“Until the next call-up, then.”
“Safe travels!”
“In-ha. If you don’t have a training facility, come use ours. It’s in Yongin, so it’s easy to get to. The coach already approved it.”
I bowed at the eldest’s thoughtfulness—Kang Jae-young’s kindness.
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
The national team athletes I’d gotten to know here.
A bond as tight as military brothers-in-arms.
People who’d carried the weight of the Taegeuk Mark alongside me.
When I stepped through the Athlete Village gate to leave them behind, a familiar car was waiting.
“Representative!”
Jeong Hae-sung, my manager.
And in the back seat was someone I hadn’t expected.
“You’re here? You’ve gotten in even better shape since I last saw you.”
It was Jung Soo-yeon, the director.
Still elegantly dressed in tailored business attire, and whether it was the beauty mark or something else, the way her eyes swept over me was captivating.
“……Didn’t you say you had a meeting?”
“I wanted to see your face, so I pushed it to tomorrow. If I don’t see you now, it’ll be more than a month.”
She had a point.
According to the schedule, I had to head directly to Cheongju Airport and board a flight to Shanghai.
After the Group A League, straight out to Europe.
Two weeks at the Athlete Village plus three weeks for Checkmate filming would mean over five weeks apart.
Jung Soo-yeon tilted her head toward the back seat.
A large luggage case was positioned there.
“I filled it with only new clothes. Jeong Hae-sung did laundry for the undergarments, so you can wear them right away.”
“……Thank you. I’m grateful you went to the trouble, even though it was an imposition.”
It felt awkward asking her to handle such things when we weren’t family, or a couple.
But there was no time.
The Group A League schedule change had made everything tight.
“If you feel grateful, bring a bottle of wine when you come back. Remember? We said we’d drink together when you return as a celebration.”
“Of course. I’ll prepare something nice.”
Clearly we were in a representative-and-employee relationship, but she helped with the personal details of my life in ways that ran deep.
Even our taste in wine matched well—she was alluring in some indefinable way.
What man wouldn’t appreciate sharing a glass of wine with her?
“Oh, I saw the article just now. The child you mentioned—O Do-jun is his name, right?”
“Yes. You don’t mean—?”
“He got his professional promotion.”
I laughed without meaning to.
Not only O Su’s comeback, but his son Do-jun achieving professional status as well.
“There’s something else—I looked into the Chinese side too…… You came up in recent searches pretty often.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Your performance on Masked Singer got uploaded to TikTok and became a hot topic.”
It was hard to believe.
I’d been at odds with Chinese baduk players and the press this whole time.
I’d thought I’d been branded with an anti-Korean image in Chinese communities.
So hearing I’d actually become a topic of conversation—something about it didn’t add up.
“It would be normal to get criticism, so it’s strange that you’re popular, isn’t it?”
“Honestly…… yes.”
Jung Soo-yeon continued her explanation.
“After looking into it, Chinese public opinion about you was actually divided from the start. Some found your dismissive comments off-putting, while others respect you because you have the skill to back it up.”
To summarize what she said: this is what it came down to.
China has had a culture of valuing versatile, multitalented figures since ancient times, apparently.
A Confucian tradition, she said—and in my case, with Baduk for wisdom, Archery for martial skill, and Singing for refinement, I fell into that category.
Jeong Hae-sung, driving, chimed in quietly.
“I read it online—apparently if you’re a little talented, they’re envious and jealous. But if you’re too talented, they respect you. Just like you, Representative.”
“Jeong Hae-sung, you’ve learned how to say things that make people feel good.”
“No? That’s the truth, though…….”
I smiled quietly and turned my attention to Jung Soo-yeon.
There was one more important matter left.
“Has my opponent for tomorrow’s match been decided?”
“Yes. The official announcement came out.”
“Who is it?”
Jung Soo-yeon met my eyes.
“Lu Chuiyuan is 9-dan.”
“……!”
Improper Master.
Currently ranked fifth in China.
A rematch materialized faster than expected, following the Ciel Bank Championship finals.

* * *
Pudong International Airport.
China’s premier gateway, situated in Shanghai.
After clearing immigration and collecting my luggage, I noticed Jeong Hae-sung’s face had gone rigid.
“Why are you so nervous?”
“It’s……this is my first time overseas.”
I chuckled at that and headed to the restroom.
‘There should be an interview, like she mentioned.’
I’d already been tipped off by Jung Soo-yeon beforehand.
I tidied up my appearance and hair, then walked through the gate.
That moment.
‘Wait, what?’
Far more people than I’d anticipated came into view.
I’d heard there would be journalists, but dozens of cameras swiveled toward me in unison.
Clusters of fans scattered about.
Roughly thirty of them.
And among them, visible through the gaps, were placards and signs.
One phrase stood out more than the rest.
-永远支持你，InHa.
In Korean, it meant “I’ll always support you, In-ha.”
And it was a Chinese female fan holding it.
“Representative, someone’s coming over there.”
I looked over as a middle-aged man approached and handed me a bouquet.
As I awkwardly accepted it, a familiar face drew near.
It was Tian Weilin, the director of Xianhua whom I’d spoken with at a baduk awards ceremony.
“Welcome.”
“……Thank you for the warm reception.”
After a brief greeting, I was led away.
I stood before a photo wall engraved with the red characters .
Camera flashes poured down, and a press conference began immediately.
“Kuksoo Kim In-ha—in China, there’s been talk of this signing as a ‘shock.’ What are your thoughts?”
The first question carried a blade’s edge.
The atmosphere favored wariness and controversy over warmth.
But it wasn’t unfamiliar to me.
In fact, this kind of reaction felt more comfortable, more natural.
“I’m used to being disliked.”
I answered in measured Chinese, my words carrying through the microphone to those gathered.
“And I know how to enjoy it.”
For a moment, the press section fell silent.
I didn’t break that silence, but instead steadied my breathing and let my gaze sweep across the room.
“I’m a villain. I don’t need to be welcomed.”
Public opinion being split fifty-fifty was just talk online, after all.
Most journalists in reality either opposed me or looked for ways to exploit me for a headline.
Because that’s how clicks and money happened.
A landscape I’d grown weary of in Japan.
“So this time too, I plan to be a villain.”
The moment I finished speaking, the flashes erupted once more.
“……To every team in the league that faces Xianhua, I’ll be a ruthless villain.”
As he spoke, a smile slowly spread across his face.
“And to the fans who support Xianhua, I’ll be remembered as the ‘Champion Closer’—the one who brought them victory through the finest Baduk.”

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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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