I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 26

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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 Episode 026
“Senior!”
Inside the Sensibility Cafe.
I looked up to find Yeon-hee watching me with a sidelong glance, her eyes narrowed.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, I’m listening.”
“Liar. You’re just staring at your phone like there’s something more interesting than the person sitting right in front of you!”
I let out a soft chuckle and turned my smartphone screen toward her.
“Money came in.”
“Money?”
Her eyes lit up instantly.
What could you expect from a bank employee?
The moment money enters the conversation, her whole demeanor shifts.
“Nothing special. I appeared on a Go-related live stream broadcast. The appearance fee just came through.”
“Really? How much?”
“Thirty per appearance. They said they’ll add bonuses depending on view counts later.”
“……That’s incredible. You’re basically a celebrity now.”
Yeon-hee murmured absently, her expression dazed.
‘I was pretty surprised myself.’
The proposal came first from Jang Yu-na, a 2-dan player.
Apparently, viewer responses to the Anonymous content were strong.
Despite only two episodes being uploaded so far, the view counts were already substantial.
Particularly unusual had been the reaction from the Chinese platform.
Thanks to that.
After watching yesterday’s stream, professional Go players from the Chinese Go Association expressed their willingness to play matches against me.
Since that saved them recruitment fees.
We agreed to raise my appearance fee accordingly.
‘This works out perfectly for me.’
I earn money.
And arrange matches with professional Go players.
It’s like getting something for nothing.
‘……And since I’m receiving it through a virtual account, there’s no risk of it being discovered.’
Online and offline.
Even now.
I was still drawing a line between them.
“Hmm. Hmm-mm.”
Yeon-hee rested her chin on her hand, eyes half-lidded as she studied me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering what happened to you after graduation.”
“Me?”
There weren’t exactly fond memories to recall.
Failed at finding employment.
Failed again.
And again, which is why I started working as a bank security guard.
But.
That doesn’t seem to be the impression Yeon-hee has of me.
“Tell me honestly, senior.”
“What?”
“Go is your real job, and being a security guard is just a side gig, right?”
“What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”
“Right? It doesn’t make sense, does it? But when I look at you, somehow it does.”
“…….”
Faced with Yeon-hee’s question, I couldn’t find a rebuttal.
Primary work and secondary work.
As the secondary work grew in weight, its impact on my life only expanded.
Before long.
‘It’ll consume me entirely.’
A pleasant reversal.
I don’t know when it’ll happen.
But I hope that day comes soon.
“Wait, hold on. Just stay like that. Your expression right now is perfect.”
Yeon-hee spun around, set up the camera, and folded her arms across her chest.
Warmth traveled down my arm where it touched hers.
I couldn’t ignore it, no matter how I tried.
Click.
Yeon-hee unfolded her arms and smiled as she looked at the photo.
“Oh, it came out well.”
“A straight portrait? I can’t post that.”
“Why not? I’ll just blur out your face before uploading.”
Yeon-hee returned to her seat with a bright smile.
I drained the rest of my ade and set the glass down.
“So Gye-jang’s been quiet lately, huh?”
“He has, but… I wouldn’t relax yet. He’s persistent, that one.”
I nodded in agreement.
An unspoken understanding passed between us.
“By the way, did you apply to Double K Bank?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I hope it works out for you.”
“If it does, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Not dinner—photos!”
Yeon-hee’s eyes gleamed with eager brightness.
“Are you competing this weekend too? Want me to drive?”
“There is a tournament, but… it’s one I’m going to alone.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah. The Korean Baduk Association is holding a professional preliminaries. I’m going as the amateur representative.”
Yeon-hee blinked rapidly.
Her face went slack with surprise.
“You’re not actually going to become a professional Go player, are you?”
“Who knows.”
I laughed it off vaguely.
I wasn’t avoiding the thought of turning professional.
But.
I didn’t want to talk big and jinx myself.
I didn’t want to come across as an empty talker.
“Wait a second.”
Yeon-hee pulled out her smartphone and began searching for something.
“Wow… the top professional Go player last year made two billion won?”
“Hey, that’s world-class territory.”
“Let’s go for it.”
“For what?”
“World-class. I’ll be your manager!”
For a moment, I was at a loss for words.
“Go players don’t have managers.”
“Then what about girlfriend?”
“… Are you serious?”
“Do I sound serious?”
Laughter escaped from both of us.
“Anyway, this weekend won’t work.”
“Shame.”
With that, we ended the conversation in good spirits.
And we parted ways.
On the bus.
The ride home.
After spending time with Yeon-hee, I felt refreshed.
And yet.
My mind quickly filled with Go again.
‘I need to reduce how much ground I lose in the early game.’
Except for my match against Ahn Seong-hyeon, 7-dan.
I’d failed to seize the initiative in the opening against almost everyone.
The San-san Joseki.
The Fuseki patterns that branched from it.
‘Things I’ve never seen before.’
In other words.
AI moves might fall outside the scope of my Talent, after all.
‘I need to study AI Go.’
Professional Go would be thoroughly honed based on AI analysis.
If I relied only on my Talent and charged ahead,
I could collapse in an instant.
‘I need to prepare more.’
Running DeepStone after work had become routine.
Constantly experimenting with variations,
referencing the resulting game progressions,
I studied AI’s Go and patterns.
Tonight, too, I’d end my day that way and go to bed.
“I’m home.”
“You’re just getting back?”
I slipped off my shoes and stepped into the entrance.
Mother and Father were sitting in the living room.
“Come sit with us for a moment.”
I nodded and settled onto the sofa.
Mother hesitated, then spoke with difficulty.
“I’m thinking about reopening the restaurant.”
Something heavy settled quietly in my chest.
I couldn’t say I wasn’t worried.
The memories had been good, but the ending wasn’t.
And yet.
‘It’s Mother’s decision.’
I wanted to respect it.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned.”
“I know.”
Mother lowered her head slightly.
Her expression darkened.
“But it seems better than working for someone else.”
I chose my words carefully and managed to speak my honest thoughts.
Then I looked directly at Mother.
“Your cooking is the best, after all. Once you get it going again, the regular customers will come back, won’t they?”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Mother’s eyes began to soften.
Color returned to her face.
But I didn’t stop there.
There was one more thing I had to say.
“Just one thing—I need you to promise me this.”
“Promise?”
I took a deep breath and spoke clearly.
“Don’t let yourself be taken advantage of by the landlord like before.”
Mother stiffened.
People don’t change.
I don’t know what she’s like now,
but once business picks up, there’s no telling when she might turn cruel again.
She has a history of it.
I didn’t want to see that happen a second time.
“If something like that happens again,”
I quietly pulled out my Smartphone.
“I won’t stand by this time.”
Back then, I knew nothing.
Fresh from military service,
a college student.
I couldn’t help Mother when she was treated unfairly.
But it’s different now.
I touched the Smartphone screen.
I opened the banking app and entered the transfer amount.
Ten million won.
I added a bit more from the savings I’d accumulated over time to the remaining prize money.
Mother still hadn’t noticed, watching me with eyes that wavered between anxiety and hope.
I could feel that uncertainty flickering across her face.
Ding.
Mother’s smartphone chimed.
“Check it,” I said.
Mother jumped, startled, and looked at her phone.
Her eyes widened in shock.
“What is this? Why are you sending me this money?”
“Mom……”
Both of them were so taken aback they couldn’t speak.
I spoke calmly.
“Use this money to look at other places, not just that one. Let me know if you need more.”
Mother covered her mouth with her hand.
For a long while, she said nothing.
I could see her eyes glistening.
“But In-ha, how did you……”
I smiled slightly.
“Money can always be earned again.”
Mother’s eyes grew red.
She nodded silently.
Seeing that, my own chest grew warm.
Then.
Ding!
A familiar notification sounded.
At the same time, the system window cascaded into view.
[Congratulations! For your filial piety, you have met the System’s usage conditions.]
[You may now acquire a Talent.]
[A Platinum Roulette Ticket has been awarded as your reward.]
[Will you use it now? (Yes or No)]
‘Just as I thought…… it came through.’
The development was predictable enough.
Part of me found it absurd.
Yet this timing felt strangely right.
I glanced away for a moment.
Mother still held her phone tightly, her lips pressed together.
Beside her, Father silently wrapped his arm around Mother’s shoulders.
‘……Yeah, this isn’t so bad.’
I’m going to climb higher anyway.
I looked back at the system window.
[Will you use the Roulette Ticket now?]
There was nothing to think about.
I reached out and pressed Yes.
[Platinum Roulette Ticket has been used.]
A massive roulette wheel appeared.
‘There are fewer slots.’
It was definitely different from the Diamond roulette.
That one had thirty-six slots.
This one had only five.
And.
‘There’s no guaranteed minimum Talent rank.’
If I said I wasn’t disappointed, I’d be lying.
But.
This roulette ticket—earned through filial piety to my parents.
I didn’t want to measure its worth by grade alone.
Whirrrr.
The roulette began to turn slowly.
The heavy sound of the spinning needle rang in my ears.
Then, at last.
The roulette began to slow.
Click.
The needle stopped.
The ??? mark faded, revealing the hidden Talent beneath.
[Korean Cuisine (B)]
‘……Korean Cuisine?’
I hesitated for a moment.
But then, a small laugh escaped me.
‘At this exact moment?’
Had Filial Piety adjusted things for me?
Low rank or not, it was precisely what I needed.
[The Talent ‘Korean Cuisine’ has been added to your System.]
Knowledge filling my mind, slowly and steadily.
Seasoning ratios.
Cooking methods.
The characteristics of each ingredient.
The feel of julienning and bias-cutting flowing through my fingertips.
As if I’d mastered it long ago.
It seeped in naturally, becoming a part of me.
‘Now I can be useful too.’
My chest swelled with warmth.
The feeling that I’d gained another skill I could excel at.
And not just any skill.
‘A Talent I could use for my family.’
That thought alone made my heart feel full.
And so.
Different from Go.
It felt like I’d just played another precious stone in the game of life.

* * *
Korean Baduk Association.
The headquarters of Korean Go.
Professional Go Player management, tournament oversight and hosting, dan-promotion exams.
The institution overseeing all operations related to Go.
And now.
“So this is the Korean Baduk Association building.”
On the surface, nothing particularly remarkable about its worn exterior.
But the air flowing through it felt different.
—CIL Bank Cup World Masters Amateur Selection Tournament, 3rd Floor Preliminary Game Room.
The moment I entered the first floor, an LED notice board caught my eye.
Behind the desk sat a man with a name tag hanging from his neck.
It was Jang Pil-ju, a Korean Baduk Association staff member.
“Are you a participant in the Amateur Selection Tournament?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Your name, please.”
“Kim In-ha.”
I took out my ID and showed it to him.
“Confirmed. Go right up.”
I nodded and climbed the stairs.
Photos and timelines were displayed along the walls.
A history of the Korean Baduk Association.
Classic games that had shaped the course of Go history.
Even the historic match between man and artificial intelligence.
A carefully organized chronicle of Korean Go’s evolution, easy to grasp at a glance.
As I slowly took it all in.
I’d nearly reached the third floor.
Then.
An unfamiliar voice came from the corridor beyond the landing.
“Hey. Did you watch your sister’s broadcast?”
“I saw it. Anonymous completely overwhelmed you, Seong-hyeon.”
I stopped walking.
A young, unripe voice.
Pitched a little high.
The owner sounded like one of the research students.
“Must be a pro, right?”
“Isn’t it obvious just by looking?”
“I want to play against them once too… but they don’t log in much, do they?”
“Guess not. Should we request a match on Yu-na’s stream?”
Standing at a distance, listening in, I felt a smile slip out.
‘I’ve gotten pretty famous.’
The fact that my name was being mentioned like this.
It made my shoulders rise a little.
“Well, I’ve played them.”
A lower voice now.
‘Wait—they’ve played me before?’
My ears pricked up without thinking.
“Really?”
“When?”
“The day the Anonymous account was created…”
The research student paused for a moment before continuing.
“I won with a handicap.”
In that instant.
One username surfaced in my mind.
‘PePe?’

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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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