I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 23

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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 Chapter 23
[Will you choose this? Yes or No]
Without thinking, I held my breath.
‘……Suspend the achievement?’
Until now, the system had always pushed me forward with one condition: “maintain your primary job.”
But this time.
It was different.
‘Permanent retention is possible?’
That meant.
The talent wouldn’t vanish even if I lost my primary job.
Yet it wasn’t perfect.
There was a caveat: selecting this could lower the grade of some talents.
[Talents Held: Go (A)]
My A-ranked Go ability might drop to B or C.
There was a high probability my skill would deteriorate significantly.
And.
One more line of text bothered me.
‘Gold Roulette Ticket?’
When I first obtained the Go talent.
I had spun a Diamond Roulette Ticket.
It came with a guarantee of at least A-rank.
So I’d started at the very top from the beginning.
But now.
It was offering “Gold”—one or maybe two tiers below.
Instead of the familiar sense of gain, there was a whiff of clear loss to accept.
‘At this point…… it’s basically a penalty.’
My mind calculated first; my feelings followed.
It felt like the system was sneering at me: Want to eat this and fall behind?
One corner of my mouth twitched involuntarily.
An unfunny temptation.
This wasn’t a reward—it was more like taking something away after giving it.
‘Better to go without.’
My deliberation was brief.
I had no intention of stopping here.
To change my life, I still needed this talent.
[Will you choose this? Yes or No]
No.
The system window closed the moment I chose.
At the same time.
Time, which had seemed frozen, began flowing again.
“Kim!”
A familiar voice.
I looked up to see the Branch Manager wearing an expression of joy I’d never seen from him before.
“You won! You’re the strongest amateur player!”
I smiled briefly and nodded.
Prize money of five million won.
And an Official Amateur 7-dan Certificate.
Most of all.
The sense that I had done it.
That was beginning to sink in slowly, tangibly.
“Excuse me, Kim In-ha.”
A cautious voice approaching.
I turned to see a man with a crossbody bag standing there.
“We’d like to conduct a brief interview about your tournament victory before the awards ceremony. Do you have a moment?”
“Yes, of course.”
I nodded.
Looking to the side, the Branch Manager stood with his arms folded, grinning.
It felt like silent pressure to tell my story, and I couldn’t help but smile.
We moved to a quieter spot to conduct the interview.
“In the Round of 64, you defeated Park Jun-su, the number-one amateur-ranked player, and in the finals, you defeated Kim Tae-ho, the top research student with a strong likelihood of turning professional. How do you feel?”
I paused to gather my breath, choosing my words with care.
“I played to win, and I believed I could win.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It didn’t matter who my opponent was.”
I added quietly, keeping my tone steady.
“I focused on the moves I could make. I gave my best effort.”
The journalist fell silent for a moment.
It was a somewhat different answer than he’d expected.
Not one of excitement or self-congratulation.
But rather, a reflection of my approach to the tournament and my sincere resolve.
“Concise and powerful,” he said.
The journalist smiled and nodded appreciatively.
“This should make for a good interview.”
We shook hands, and I stood to leave.
I caught sight of the Branch Manager approaching from where he’d been standing at a distance.
I wasn’t sure how to explain the oversight, when—
“Congratulations on the championship.”
A weighty, genuine offer of congratulations.
When I turned, a familiar middle-aged man stood before me.
Kang Hyeok, 9-dan.
He’d played against Park Jun-su in the Round of 64 semifinals.
I’d been so focused I hadn’t noticed, but he must have watched the finals too.
“You had confident eyes,” he said.
He looked directly into my eyes as he spoke.
“You weren’t afraid—you played to overcome the game itself.”
I said nothing.
“Beautiful Go. Both games.”
Uncertain how to respond, I bowed my head.
Looking at me like that, Kang Hyeok’s eyes were gentle.
“The champion of the President’s Cup’s elite division gets an invitation to the World Amateur Go Championship. Did you know that?”
“Yes, I’ve heard about it.”
“You could aim for victory there.”
“I’ll do my best.”
That was all the answer I could give.
I didn’t want to become someone whose words ran ahead of their actions.
“Don’t take the long way around.”
“Pardon?”
“The CielBank Amateur Selection Tournament will be held soon. You’ve made the amateur rankings, so you’ll likely get an invitation.”
“The CielBank… ah.”
The Branch Manager, who had come to stand beside me without my noticing, pressed his lips firmly shut.
“If you advance through the main bracket, you can accumulate Professional Entry Points and become a professional.”
“A professional?”
I murmured the words in a daze.
It was a term I’d never seriously considered before.
I’d only harbored a vague desire to move forward, to climb higher.
Kang Hyeok regarded me for a long moment, then smiled gently without speaking.
“Congratulations again.”
He left me with a reminder to see each other at the awards ceremony, then disappeared among the crowd.
The silence that followed was broken by the Branch Manager’s hushed exclamation.
“I didn’t mishear that, did I? Kang Hyeok just talked to you about becoming a professional…?”
“That’s… what happened.”
Even I, the one it concerned, was bewildered.
Professional.
The word circled endlessly in my mind.
As the fog lifted, the blurred landscape before me suddenly came into focus.
-The awards ceremony will begin shortly. Could our winners please make their way to the podium? Thank you.
The ceiling speaker crackled to life.
The Branch Manager tapped my shoulder and spoke.
“Come on, let’s go.”
I took a short breath to steady myself and moved toward the stage.
A crowd had already gathered.
The award recipients announced earlier ascended the stage one by one.
Then.
“President’s Cup National Go Tournament, Open Division Champion, Kim In-ha!”
I walked up onto the stage.
Cheers and applause erupted.
Kang Hyeok presented me with the trophy, certificate, and Official Amateur 7-dan Certificate.
Camera flashes went off.
Below the stage, I caught sight of the Branch Manager’s face, beaming with enthusiastic applause.
—Ding!
The familiar notification sound chimed.
[Talent: Go (A)]
[Championship Records]
—7th Jung-Buk District Association Chairman’s Cup Go Tournament Champion (1st)
—17th National Amateur Go Championship, Gyeonggi Province Open Division Champion (1st)
—Obtained official 5-dan amateur certificate.
—9th Chunhyang Cup, Chunhyang Division Champion (1st)
—11th President’s Cup National Go Tournament, Open Division Champion (1st)
—Obtained official 7-dan amateur certificate.
Looking at the achievement log, I found myself smiling without realizing it.
Now I understood.
Where I needed to go from here.

* * *
Monday morning.
I returned to the bank after completing the President’s Cup on a one-night, two-day trip.
Though my body and mind should have been exhausted, strangely, I didn’t feel fatigue at all.
Rather, my mind was clear and my body felt light.
There was only one reason why.
The prize money from winning the President’s Cup.
4.78 million won.
The amount after taxes.
Double the monthly after-tax salary of a bank security guard.
And.
The accumulated prize money I’d received from amateur Go tournaments so far had approached ten million won.
‘Money that would be hard to save in a full year.’
Living expenses.
Student loan debt.
My parents’ debts too.
I’d lived keenly aware that my salary barely grazed my bank account.
Yet in just two months, a substantial sum had accumulated.
Thanks to that.
‘How long had it been since the four of us shared Korean beef?’
After finishing the tournament and returning home.
I took my parents to a nearby Korean beef restaurant.
Smiles blooming for the first time in ages on the faces of two people worn down by debt.
Prime rib that melted softly in my mouth.
A moment of happiness that couldn’t be exchanged for anything.
‘So that’s why everyone says they live for the thrill of making money.’
For the first time, those words felt real.
But then.
‘What do I do with the rest of it?’
Suddenly, practical concerns came pressing down on me.
Invest?
Or save it?
Should I pay off the student loan first, or help my parents with their debts?
Or…….
‘Cryptocurrency?’
In that moment, I shook my head firmly.
I recalled Hyeon-do’s story of losing money through aggressive cryptocurrency investment.
The money I had now was neither much nor little—somewhere in between.
My knowledge was incomplete, and my information scarce.
I didn’t think investment was the right move just yet.
Then.
Bzzt.
I checked my smartphone at the vibration.
[Yeon-hui: Senior! The article’s up! There are photos too.]
‘Photos?’
I tapped the link she’d sent.
It was an article about the President’s Cup National Go Tournament.
[Interview with Kim In-ha, Champion of the President’s Cup Open Division]
[Amateur Ranking 1st, Research Student Group 1st—he proved his skill through consecutive victories…]
[“I played to win, and I believed I could win.”]
[Next goal the World Championship? Or an upset in the CielBank Amateur Selection Tournament?]
My hands and feet curled up as I read through the article.
So I played to win and believed I could win.
That wasn’t quite the nuance I’d intended at all…
It was the kind of line you’d only hear in a martial arts webtoon I liked to read.
And then there was this.
‘Why do the photos look like this?!’
A photo from the finals match.
A photo from the interview.
A photo from the awards ceremony.
Taken at some point I couldn’t even remember.
The composition was a mess, the lighting was terrible—they were literally just documentation photos.
The ones Yeon-hui had taken for me were soft and natural somehow.
But these were straight-up embarrassing history.
[Yeon-hui: Oh, senior. Your comment sounds just like a movie line, doesn’t it?]
[In-ha: Could you just pretend you didn’t see it?]
I glanced over toward the counter, and Yeon-hui was watching me with a giggling grin.
Then she bent her head back down toward her phone.
[Yeon-hui: But the photos came out well, though.]
[In-ha: Don’t tease me.]
[Yeon-hui: I’m serious. Do you know what I mean?]
[In-ha: Can’t I just pretend not to know?]
[Yeon-hui: Usually you’re kind of clumsy… but when you play Go, you look like a completely different person.]
[In-ha: In a bad way?]
[Yeon-hui: In a good way.]
A laugh escaped me before I could help it.
It felt lucky that she meant it as a compliment.
A moment later, the phone buzzed again.
[Yeon-hui: And senior, there’s a new job opening at Double K Bank. They have a regional talent recruitment track—you should apply.]
Double K Bank.
A financial company that competed at the top tier alongside CielBank, where I currently worked.
It was a place I’d once dreamed of joining.
Of course, I’d failed the application every time.
‘Wait, a regional talent track…?’
A special hiring program for university graduates from within the region.
For someone like me, who’d graduated from a provincial university, it was the most realistic opportunity.
[Yeon-hui: This is my way of helping.]
An email notification popped up at the top of my phone screen.
Study materials.
Practice interview questions.
Neatly organized interview tips.
Files that Yeon-hui had personally gathered and sent over.
I gave a short laugh and sent her a reply.
[In-ha: Thank you.]
A customer came to the counter, and Yeon-hui’s response was delayed.
In that gap, a thought formed in my mind.
‘I really want to try applying…’
Just one thing that wouldn’t leave my mind.
The conditions for maintaining my primary job and my talent.
An achievement trap.
A system warning.
Criteria that were still unclear.
If I quit my primary job or changed positions, my talent might vanish—a vague, creeping anxiety.
It was only speculation, but it would be a lie to say I wasn’t bothered.
Even so.
‘Let me apply first. I’ve been rejected this whole time anyway… I can think it over after I pass.’
It might even turn out to be a good opportunity.
My primary job and secondary work.
I could finally test the relationship between them and whether my talent would hold.
Just as I finished sorting through these thoughts.
My phone vibrated again.
Buzz-buzz, buzz-buzz.
The intervals were short. It was a call.
‘Unknown number?’
I was in the middle of work.
Since spam calls came in so often,
normally I would have rejected it without thinking twice.
But.
Something about this call felt like I had to answer it.
It was just a feeling.
I quietly stood up from my desk and stepped into the corridor near the restroom to take the call.
“Hello?”
-Is this Kim In-ha’s cell phone, by any chance?
“Yes, that’s me.”
A deep male voice came through the phone.
-Hello. This is Jang Pil-ju from the Korean Baduk Association. Would you have a moment to discuss your participation in the CielBank Amateur Selection Tournament?

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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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