I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 37

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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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Talent That Pays 037
“But Byeon Woobin.”
I composed my expression.
My lips tightened, my tone turned cold.
“Why did you assume I lost? And so matter-of-factly, too.”
For a moment, Byeon Woobin’s eyes flickered with shock.
“I… didn’t?”
“No.”
A short answer.
But there was steel in it.
Byeon Woobin seemed to sense the shift in my demeanor.
“…I apologize. That was reckless of me.”
The apology was polite enough.
But sincerity didn’t ring through.
A forced expression.
A clenched jaw.
The pride beneath it came through loud and clear.
“It’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes.”
I received it coolly.
Then Byeon Woobin forced a smile.
“…I hope you make it to the finals. Since you even played an Instructional Game with Yu Zuha, I’ve been curious about your strength.”
What was this.
This juvenile provocation.
I couldn’t tell why he was being so hostile toward me.
But there was no reason to sit quietly and take it.
“Same here.”
I paused for a moment before returning the volley in kind.
“I wanted to see just how strong a top-tier domestic Professional really is.”
A brief silence stretched between us.
Words that neither one ceded ground to the other.
We weren’t fighting, yet somehow it felt exhausting.
‘He must be furious.’
Byeon Woobin’s brow was beautifully furrowed.
An Amateur.
A top-ranked Professional in the country was hearing such words from him.
It would be laughable and wounding to his pride alike.
Lips pressed tight, he lowered his head slightly and spun around sharply.
I had no desire to continue the verbal sparring either.
So I offered a light nod in farewell instead.
Then.
“Inha!”
When I turned, Yu Zuha was coming down the stairs with Kim Minho.
Yu Zuha approached me brightly, waving her hand.
“Did you wait long? We just finished too!”
“No, I just wrapped up. Minho’s here with you?”
“Yes. We ran into each other on the way down.”
Kim Minho bowed respectfully.
We hadn’t known each other long through the study group.
But he was a genuinely courteous friend.
Unlike Byeon Woobin, who stood awkwardly off to the side.
“Oh? Woobin?”
Yu Zuha spotted Byeon Woobin a moment later and waved.
Byeon Woobin’s expression shifted in an instant.
He approached Yu Zuha with a warm smile.
“Hey. Did you win your game?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Me? No sweat.”
Byeon Woobin laughed with ease.
“Classic Woobin.”
“You’ve recovered from your slump, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Yu Zuha turned to me with a bright smile.
“It’s all thanks to you.”
In that moment.
I saw it.
Byeon Woobin’s expression suddenly turned rigid.
It was only a brief instant, but he couldn’t hide it.
“Is that so? That’s a relief.”
Byeon Woobin forced a smile, pretending to be unbothered.
“I have something to take care of, so I’ll head out first. Let’s meet up after the preliminaries.”
“Sure, take care.”
Byeon Woobin raised his hand in farewell, then hurried away from the table.
His retreating figure disappearing faster than usual.
Yu Zuha turned around and approached with a clear laugh.
“Let’s go, too. There’s a really delicious tteokbokki place right in the alley next door.”
“Tteokbokki?”
When I asked back, Yu Zuha’s eyes sparkled as she nodded.
“Yes, it’s the kind you simmer with black bean sauce, and it’s really tasty.”
“You should try it too. I’ve been eating there since my research years, I guarantee the taste.”
“Is that right?”
Hearing their explanation, I found myself anticipating it.
Black bean sauce and tteokbokki.
A combination that seemed to work and yet not work at the same time.
And yet.
Somehow I could almost taste it on my tongue.
A strangely appealing feeling.
I’m not usually one for tteokbokki, but today I found myself looking forward to it.
“Shall we go?”
We changed direction together.
It was then that Yu Zuha called out cheerfully.
“Today’s on me. I debuted first, so I’m your senior!”
“Then shouldn’t I be the one treating you?”
Kim Minho chimed in with a laugh.
I smiled quietly and walked alongside the two of them.
The afternoon was clear.
And my mood.
Was just as bright as the day.

* * *
First floor lobby of the Korean Baduk Association.
Next to the souvenir shop.
A man emerged from the corridor leading to the Korean Baduk TV studio.
Early forties.
Hair permed to hide thinning spots.
Black shirt and black cotton slacks.
A cross bag hanging carelessly over his shoulder.
A former reporter for Baduk Tongsin, one of the nation’s major professional baduk media outlets.
“Hmm.”
His gaze was fixed on three people leaving the building beyond the entrance.
Kim Minho, 8-dan Professional.
Yu Zuha, 3-dan Professional.
And.
“Amateur Kim Inha, huh….”
The reporter couldn’t take his eyes off the figure of Inha standing in the middle.
At first, he’d thought of him as just another amateur.
At the President’s Cup.
Defeating the top-ranked amateur Park Junsoo.
And even beating Kim Taeho, who seemed likely to achieve his Professional Debut through cumulative research rankings.
He hadn’t paid him much attention at the time.
To be precise.
He had never given it much thought to begin with.
The reason was simple enough.
The man was an amateur.
And more than that, he was far too old.
In the age of AI, professionals over thirty occasionally enjoyed their peak—it happened.
But for most professional players, thirty was
a death sentence.
And yet.
“He beat Kim Donggyu 7-dan yesterday, and today he defeated Lin Shui 8-dan?”
He’d just heard this from a Korean Baduk Association employee.
Of course, amateurs did occasionally pull off upsets against professionals.
But.
Not a trainee.
An ordinary office worker.
Knocking off two professionals—that was unprecedented.
And at that.
At the late age of twenty-nine.
“……An instructional game with Yu Zuha? An amateur giving it to her?”
Gu the journalist muttered and shook his head.
Yu Zuha, 3-dan.
Even before turning professional, she’d been spotlighted in both Korea and Japan as a prodigious female player.
No matter how deep her slump,
the idea that she’d accept an instructional game from an amateur—
it made no sense.
On any other day, he would have laughed and forgotten it.
But.
“If it was Byeon Woobin who said that……?”
Everything changed.
Byeon Woobin, 5-dan.
The future of Korean baduk.
A rising star who’d rocketed up the rankings starting with his victory in the Open Rookie King Championship this year.
A player more promising tomorrow than he was today.
And he,
today, had engaged Kim Inha in some peculiar psychological skirmishing.
Gu had overheard part of it.
It was clearly more than just an idle quarrel.
The way he carried himself.
His tone of voice.
And that expression that had flickered across his face—
‘He was wary of him.’
Gu felt his heart quicken with inexplicable anticipation.
Having graduated from the Department of Baduk Studies decades ago and entered this world,
the talented kept thriving.
The mediocre kept vanishing.
Cruel, but that was the reality of the baduk world.
The measure of talent.
And yet recently,
there had been increasingly frequent cracks in that order.
‘Unnamed.’
He’d appeared like a meteor on Samguk Go one day,
systematically crushing Chinese players ranked in the top hundred, drawing attention.
By the journalist’s instinct, he could say with certainty:
he was not a famous player they knew of.
In other words,
there was a high likelihood he was a newcomer who’d gone unnoticed until now.
And
Kim Inha.
Much like Unnamed, suddenly surfacing out of nowhere,
following a strikingly similar trajectory.
All these coincidences no longer looked like coincidence.
The old journalist slowly lifted the corners of his mouth.
“……So, shall we dig a little deeper, Kim Inha?”
Where should I begin?
Ah.
Kim Inha’s first amateur championship victory.
It would be good to start from the 7th Jungbuk-Gu Association President’s Cup Baduk Championship.

* * *
Soft classical music drifting through the cabin.
Comfortable seats.
A Mercedes-Benz S-Class — the kind of car you could call a moving hotel without exaggeration.
Not the subway I rode every day.
Today I was heading to the Korean Baduk Association in the Branch Manager’s car.
“You must be so busy, and here I am, taking up your time…….”
“Don’t say that. I’m doing this because I want to. Why are you apologizing, Kim?”
At that, I had nothing left to say.
Just.
I felt grateful and sorry at once.
The Branch Manager had taken time off to match my preliminary round schedule.
He’d picked me up from in front of my house this morning.
Now he was driving through Seoul, taking me to the venue.
‘Where do you find a boss like this?’
Truly, I was overwhelmed with gratitude.
“Drink this on the way. It’s Yuzu Tea. It’ll replenish your glucose and clear your head.”
In the cup holder sat a steaming cup of tea.
That thoughtfulness made my chest tighten with emotion.
“Sir.”
“Mm?”
“Every time…… I really can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m not doing this for your thanks.”
The Branch Manager chuckled and shook his head.
Then, suddenly.
His expression shifted, and he looked at me with serious eyes.
“Kim, you can’t forget about me.”
“Sir?”
“If you do well later, you have to tell everyone it was because of me.”
For a moment, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Sorry. I should have mentioned you when I won the President’s Cup.”
“No, no. You’ve got class, Kim. Since we’re at it, win a professional championship and then mention me. That way I’ll feel like it was worth it.”
Those words touched something deep inside me.
The feeling of being believed in by someone.
It was an emotion I’d never felt before in my life.
“And another thing, Kim.”
The Branch Manager continued carefully.
“No rush. When you have time…….”
“Yes.”
“Would you be willing to join our baduk club once?”
“A baduk club?”
“Yes. It’s called Giuhoe. It’s a group of people who love baduk, and there are quite a few people you’d do well to know — doctors, professors, people with assets and such.”
“…….”
I was at a loss for words.
High earners.
The privileged.
People I’d never encountered or had any place among in my life.
Now I’d have the chance to meet them through baduk.
To build relationships with them.
It felt surreal, and yet strangely wonderful.
“What do you say? Will you come?”
“Yes. I’d be honored to go for you.”
“Ha ha. Thanks, Kim. You’re helping me save face.”
While we laughed and chatted away.
We arrived near our destination—the Korean Baduk Association.
“You can drop me off up ahead.”
“No, there’s a public parking lot nearby. Let’s park there and go in together.”
‘……Together?’
The nuance felt a bit odd, but I let it pass.
After parking.
We headed toward the Korean Baduk Association building together.
“Th—this is…… the Korean Baduk Association.”
The Branch Manager’s face flushed red as we reached the entrance.
His expression bright and trembling like an excited child’s.
“Kim. Hey, is that person over there Hong Ikhyeon?”
A middle-aged man in professional attire climbing the stairs ahead of us.
The Branch Manager held his breath, eyes fixed on him.
Like someone catching sight of a beloved celebrity right before their eyes.
His gaze shimmered with anticipation.
“C—could I go ask for an autograph right now?”
“No, sir. Everyone will be on edge right now.”
“Right. That makes sense.”
His voice carried genuine regret.
The Branch Manager closed his lips quietly.
Now I understood why he’d insisted on following me all the way here.
Perhaps for him.
This place was a kind of ‘sanctuary’—somewhere he could freely see the person he admired.
“Inha.”
A familiar voice.
I turned around.
“Oh, Minho.”
I raised my hand and greeted him warmly.
The Branch Manager beside me flinched, looking at me with surprise.
His eyes asking: ‘You know Kim Minho, the 8-dan?’
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah. How about you?”
“I did too. But who is this person next to you?”
“Oh, he’s the Branch Manager where I work.”
The moment my introduction ended.
As if he’d been waiting for it, the Branch Manager extended his hand.
“Excuse me, are you Kim Minho?”
“Ah, yes.”
“I’m a fan. I watched last year’s Chungpoong Construction Cup Finals match with great appreciation.”
“Uh…… w—well, thank you.”
Kim Minho, taken aback.
I was a bit surprised too.
I knew the Branch Manager enjoyed baduk.
But I never expected him to know the details of last year’s domestic tournament finals.
“By the way, Minho.”
“Yes?”
“Could you sign something for me?”
I asked carefully.
“An autograph? Of course. Let me get some paper and a pen from inside.”
Just as Kim Minho turned to leave.
From somewhere.
An oil-based pen and a Korean paper fan appeared like magic in the Branch Manager’s hands.
“Please sign right here.”
I couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh.
So this was why he’d come all the way here.
After we finished taking a commemorative photo with due care.
A smile spread across the Branch Manager’s face as if he’d gained the whole world.
His expression genuinely happy.
Seeing him like that, I found my own mood lifting for no particular reason.
“Kim, then fight hard. Win for sure and I’ll see you next week!”
Her figure receding, hand raised in farewell.
I bowed in reply and climbed the stairs with Kim Minho.
Third floor.
The hallway outside the preliminary round game room.
There.
My opponent for today stood waiting.
Lu Yuean, 6-dan.
The moment our eyes met.
A brief but intense tension cut through the air and spread outward.
‘A rematch.’
Currently ranked ninety-second at the Chinese Baduk Association.
The player I’d beaten once as ‘Unnamed’ on Jang Yuna’s broadcast.
And this time, too.
‘The win is mine.’
Kim Inha’s.

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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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