I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 142

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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 Profitable Talent — Episode 142
Day 6.
Kensington Olympia Convention Hall.
Familiarity arrived before excitement now—this place had become ordinary to him.
The strange scent rising from the chessboard and pieces, even the heavy air peculiar to the tournament hall.
‘This is my last game.’
His opponent was John Wall, a local Grandmaster.
He had no experience in international tournaments, but within London he was an overwhelming force.
He’d won last year’s London Open and had come undefeated through this tournament as well—a player of genuine strength.
Against someone who’d just scored eight consecutive victories against International Masters and Grandmasters, he was hardly an easy opponent.
‘At least I’m playing White—that’s something.’
But even that couldn’t make him smile carelessly.
Under the Swiss System, when tied scores appeared, the rankings were decided by performance rating.
In other words, since the opponents’ average ratings were factored in, he—having faced lower-ranked players early—was at a disadvantage.
In such circumstances, he would inevitably fall in the tiebreaker standings.
Sara Linova had raised precisely this concern.
“John Wall will probably go for a draw strategy. He’s got the championship within reach—no reason to take risks. You need to create complications with an aggressive opening, In-ha.”
She’d analyzed John Wall’s game records thoroughly, as befitted a secondary coach.
She’d presented opening options to him, blending the intuition of a Grandmaster with AI analysis.
The Open Sicilian or the Gambit lines.
Both had lower draw rates and could rattle an opponent.
Purely in terms of safety, the Open Sicilian was superior, but his instincts leaned toward the Gambit.
‘It suits my style better.’
Just then, a white man wearing a crossbody bag approached and spoke to him.
“How do you do? I’m Henry Caldwell from the London Chess Times—we corresponded earlier.”
“Hello.”
They shook hands warmly.
Henry’s gaze landed on Sara Linova standing nearby, and he broke into a bright smile.
“It’s been a while, Sara. That interview in America—was it already two years ago?”
“Good to see you, Henry.”
The two exchanged a light embrace.
The London Chess Times, founded in 1891, was the second-oldest chess journal in the world.
Henry was a journalist with equally extensive connections.
“Would you spare me a brief interview?”
They relocated to a cafeteria in the corner of the convention hall.
With Round 9 approaching, he’d agreed to answer just a few questions, kept short.
“Kim In-ha—you won the Czech Open on your debut, followed by eight consecutive victories here at the London Open. Frankly, did you anticipate such results?”
He paused to consider.
Whether to give a modest answer or speak authentically.
The deliberation didn’t last long.
“I did anticipate it.”
Henry’s eyebrows twitched slightly.
“……That’s quite remarkable confidence.”
“If I had no confidence, I wouldn’t have challenged in the first place.”
He answered matter-of-factly.
Whether it came across as hubris didn’t concern him. The results were proof enough.
This confidence was the source of his brand, his very identity.
Henry Caldwell pressed forward with the next question.
“John Wall is London’s strongest local Grandmaster. You’re currently tied, but you’re behind in performance rating. You must win to take the championship—are you confident of victory?”
He replied tersely, investing his voice with conviction.
“Yes. There’s no reason to lose.”
Henry’s eyes widened noticeably.
He plainly hadn’t expected this degree of certainty.
He hesitated for a moment, then added with a note of concern in his voice.
“……A Grandmaster, in Baduk terms, holds the rank of 9-dan. Isn’t such confidence perhaps excessive?”
He smiled faintly and shook his head.
“I think you’ve misunderstood something.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not underestimating John Wall’s strength.”
He met Henry’s gaze directly, each word measured and deliberate.
“I believe in myself.”
Henry Caldwell’s words seemed to catch in his throat for a moment, his lips moving soundlessly.
It wasn’t a statement that diminished his opponent—rather, it carried the subtle implication of unwavering self-confidence.
Even as a journalist, he could find nothing further to press on.
He laughed awkwardly and closed his smartphone.
“……Thank you. If you do win, I’d very much appreciate a follow-up interview.”
“Of course.”
As Henry Caldwell gathered his bag and moved away, Kang Seung-hu spoke up at once.
“Seriously, did you take some interview academy course? How do you come up with lines so smoothly? Like they’re just copy-pasted straight from your brain?”
I let out a quiet laugh.
“……I just said what I felt.”
I answered casually, but the truth was I always thought before I spoke.
About the weight my words carried, their influence.
I didn’t mention that, though—just checked my wristwatch instead.
The eighth round would begin soon.
The platform at the center of the convention hall, where the white board hung, drew closer into view.
A place where countless eyes converged—it was time to see this through to a worthy finish.
Sara Linova, who had been quietly at my side, stepped forward and smiled.
“I won’t offer you hollow advice or empty encouragement.”
Her golden eyes gleamed.
“……Come back down victorious.”
I gave a brief nod.
Then I turned and climbed the platform to take my seat.
A moment later, a lean white man in his mid-thirties appeared across from me.
Official rating: 2524.
A master of the chess world—a Grandmaster.
After he finished arranging the pieces, I extended my hand for a handshake.
Once our hands parted, I advanced a pawn without hesitation.
Snap.
e4.
And the timing clock pressed down.
John Wall’s response came without delay.
e5.
The most basic reply—the Double King’s Pawn Opening.
Now, with my next move, I had to cut off his intended path before he could fully commit to it.
Stability.
Balance.
A draw.
He’d clearly prepared a solid line—either the Berlin Defense or the Petrov.
‘One wrong move and I’ll be locked in.’
I reached for my knight without hesitation.
Snap.
Knight forward.
Nf3.
Black responded immediately.
Nc6.
A textbook continuation.
In his mind, he was surely convinced he’d taken the path he wanted.
But in the next instant.
An entirely different move emerged from my fingertips.
Bc4.
The Italian Game.
An ancient opening, studied since the sixteenth century.
In Baduk terms, it’s the small-point, star-point opening—a fundamental fuseki.
A style marked by rapid development and central control.
“…….”
John Wall’s eyes flickered, just for an instant.
He’d likely anticipated it, but the firm rejection of the Ruy Lopez Berlin Defense he’d so carefully prepared—
It would feel more like an inconvenience than a shock.
Snap.
Bc5.
After a moment’s deliberation, John Wall responded with practiced precision.
The bishop advances.
A symmetrical development, targeting White’s squares.
A sound choice—the oldest standard sequence, with no flaws.
From his perspective, he likely felt the position offered neither advantage nor disadvantage.
But.
‘That’s not what I want.’
I didn’t even breathe as I seized a piece and hurled it forward.
A bishop sweeping diagonally across the board.
b4.
A sacrifice.
Casting aside a pawn, a move that forced Black’s bishop into turmoil.
The Evans Gambit.
A variation of the Italian Game, the very emblem of nineteenth-century Romantic chess with its brilliant, aggressive flair.
In modern chess, it’s a gambit seldom played—”the risk is too great,” they say.
Yet I drew it without hesitation.
‘I’m taking this game. No matter what.’
Even at the cost of material, I seized tempo and the initiative.
It looks reckless, but once unleashed, it becomes a storm that cannot be weathered.
This was my killing stroke.

* * *
“He—he actually brought it out. Kim In-ha’s playing the Evans Gambit!”
Do Hyun-sin’s voice rose in barely contained excitement.
Today was the ninth and final round of the London Open.
It was all but the championship stage itself.
The livestream viewership had already topped ten thousand, yet he had no attention to spare for numbers.
What was unfolding on the chessboard in this moment eclipsed everything else.
“About this b4—what it represents…”
Do Hyun-sin steadied his voice, fighting down the tremor of excitement.
“It’s literally a gambit, a piece sacrifice. It’s an opening from the nineteenth century, the age of Romantic chess. The risk is so enormous that it’s practically vanished from modern play. Even the slightest miscalculation and the position collapses entirely.”
He couldn’t believe it.
Kim In-ha, in a finals match—and against a Grandmaster, no less—had just made this reckless choice.
The Evans Gambit, treated almost as taboo in modern chess, and he’d taken it without hesitation, playing a Grandmaster.
To be honest, it struck him as nothing short of madness.
Yet the viewers’ reaction was entirely different.
-Now that’s real romance.
-Who’s this? Who else is still going on about risk?
-ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-He does this every time. Hyun-sin’s a nonbeliever, seems like.
-Listen and remember: For Master Kim, risk equals victory.
“No, really, this is genuinely dangerous!”
The viewers were utterly impervious to reason.
Do Hyun-sin raised his voice.
“This gambit has more weaknesses than strengths. Especially against a Grandmaster—he absolutely won’t let himself be caught out!”
Yet again, the chat drowned out his words.
-This guy, after witnessing Master Kim twice, and still doesn’t get it? ㅋㅋㅋ
-Hyun-sin, Master Kim walks against the current of his age.
-Watch and you’ll understand. See how he wins. Like Baduk, there’s beauty in chess too—you’ll witness it.
-Just trust him already. You really don’t listen, do you?
‘God, I’m losing my mind.’
Do Hyun-sin swallowed a silent scream.
He knew well enough.
How extraordinary Kim In-ha’s performance had been in rounds seven and eight.
He’d marveled at it repeatedly while providing commentary.
But this was different.
‘The opponent is a Grandmaster. The gulf between them and International Masters is absolute!’
No amount of explanation would get through.
The viewers had already stopped listening to his analysis—they were betting everything on Kim In-ha alone.
Then.
Snap.
Black captured White’s pawn.
Tension crept into Do Hyun-sin’s voice.
“By standard sequence, Black should continue the piece exchange and steer toward a stable endgame. With the Gambit, this is where White begins to struggle.”
The AI reference pointed to that same line with a blue arrow.
Snap.
Black moved again, proposing another piece exchange.
Steering toward a stable endgame, designing for a draw.
But then.
“Wait… what? Kim In-ha has refused the exchange!”
A tremor of disbelief rang through Do Hyun-sin’s voice.
Bishop development.
Bc4 – !?
Rook to the center.
Re1 – !?
Two consecutive moves of striking originality.
Followed by knight development.
Nc3 – !!
The brilliant move erupted at last.
The AI graph convulsed instantly.
The numbers still read “White is winning,” yet Do Hyun-sin saw something the graph could not—a position that made the breath catch in the chest.
‘… Isn’t this dangerous?’
Cold sweat beaded on his palms.
The AI whispered a narrow advantage, but to the human eye, it was a suffocating position.
The loss of a single piece would mean immediate defeat.
Forsaking White’s safe superiority, walking the razor’s edge toward an extreme gambit for victory.
Kim In-ha treaded across that precarious blade without hesitation.
-!!
“… Two brilliant moves in a row!”
Do Hyun-sin’s voice cracked.
In the final round, against a Grandmaster no less, the sheer audacity of such unconventional, aggressive play was breathtaking.
The way Black, having torn through the Gambit’s weakness, now pressed and crushed White in return.
When John Wall’s pieces retreated with each exchange, Kim In-ha’s pieces surged into the center without mercy, without breathing room.
‘This… this makes no sense.’
A sight that defied belief even as he watched it unfold.
Yet the chat’s reaction was different.
-Where’d he go? The commentary’s frozen lol
-See? I told you to believe.
-Whether it’s Baduk or chess, Kim always rewrites the flow.
-If the same risk repeats and wins, isn’t that risk management?
-lmaooo Do Hyun-sin, get it together.
-Hail In-ha!
Do Hyun-sin bit down hard on his lip.
‘… This isn’t the chess I know.’
Experimental moves that defied AI explanation.
Built on that foundation—a web of snares, and then a cascade of brilliant moves blooming forth.
It was chess that shouldn’t exist.
A design drawn from the opening, luring the opponent into becoming part of that design itself.
Gulp.
Do Hyun-sin swallowed without meaning to.
If—truly if—Kim In-ha defeated Grandmaster John Wall with chess like this today…
‘I might become like them too.’
A terrifying thought.
The fear that he too might begin to wear the blind reverence he saw mirrored in those others’ eyes.
Yet already he understood it.
Kim In-ha.
The romance his chess embodied was already seeping into the depths of his own heart.

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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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