I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 5

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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 — Episode 5
—This is Howang Station. The exit is on your right.
I stepped off the train, tapped my Transit Card at the gate, and emerged from the underground station.
Howang Station and its surroundings were sparse and quiet—far quieter than I’d expected.
It was only a handful of stops from home, yet it felt more remote, more forgotten somehow.
“Is it this way?”
As I followed the main avenue, an elementary school building came into view across the intersection.
—7th Jungbuk Ward Association Chairman’s Cup Go Tournament
A banner hung above the school gates announcing it.
“……I’ve arrived.”
While heading home after parting with friends, I’d searched for amateur Go tournaments in the area.
That’s how I’d found this one—an amateur Go tournament held in my residential district.
The timing worked out perfectly; the tournament was scheduled for this Saturday.
The next day, I’d registered by text message and wired the twenty-thousand-won entry fee.
The competition category was for participants fifty-five years old and under—the youth and middle-aged bracket.
No rank restrictions.
Since it was organized for local residents, the number of participants was modest, and the prize money and scale were nothing to speak of.
‘Which meant less pressure, at least.’
I stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.
That’s when the wind carried a stale, acrid smell straight into my face.
“…….”
I turned my head to see a middle-aged man standing beside me smoking a cigarette without a shred of shame.
‘Inconsiderate people are everywhere.’
Even if it was the weekend, this was in front of an elementary school. There were children and parents on the crosswalk too.
He blew smoke anyway, even spat on the pavement, knowing full well what was around him.
Part of me wanted to call him out directly, but I held my tongue.
Working at a bank had taught me this much: people like that don’t listen to a word you say.
Engaging with them only costs you.
When the light changed, the middle-aged man crossed first.
The child, the parents, and I deliberately put distance between ourselves and him as we crossed.
But then—
“What?”
The man, already some distance ahead, stubbed out his cigarette under his foot and entered the school.
And of all places, he headed straight for the Gymnasium where the Go tournament was being held.
‘Just ignore it.’
I waited a moment before entering the Gymnasium myself.
Dozens of Go Boards were the first thing to catch my eye.
Trophies and Prize Plaques were displayed on a raised platform as well.
I also noticed some of the participants sitting in front of their boards with their eyes closed, meditating.
‘It all feels unfamiliar. Strange.’
The only tournament I’d ever entered before was a drawing competition back in elementary school.
Let alone a Go tournament.
It still didn’t feel quite real.
I confirmed my registration with a staff member and took my assigned seat.
Soon after—
—The tournament will begin shortly. All participants, please be seated in your assigned positions.
Once the announcement came, the participants took their seats one by one.
Given the modest scale of the tournament, there were sixteen total participants in the fifty-five-and-under bracket.
The format was tournament-style.
Black received six and a half stones as compensation. Each side had ten minutes of main time, with Byoyomi of three periods.
The difference from online Go was simply that you had to press the Game Clock yourself.
—Please begin your games.
The participants opened their Stone Containers and revealed their Go Stones.
Once black and white were determined, the sound of stones being placed on the Go Board echoed through the gymnasium.
But I, in fact, had not even begun my match.
“…….”
There was no one sitting across from my Go Board.
While other matches had progressed past fifty moves, my opponent still hadn’t appeared.
As I sat there, dumbfounded, a staff member approached.
“It seems participant number fifteen won’t be coming. You should receive a Walkover Victory, so just let the organizers know over there.”
“Ah, yes.”
With a bewildered expression, I approached the arbiter and relayed my opponent’s absence.
The official then moved my name upward on the Round of 16 bracket posted like a placard on the wall.
‘Quarterfinals.’
My first victory was a walkover.
I wasn’t sure whether to feel good about it or not.
I returned to my seat and sat down.
In the meantime, the match at the adjacent board had concluded—the stones were being cleared.
One by one, the other games began to produce winners and losers.
“We will begin the quarterfinal matches shortly.”
Once the eight finalists were confirmed, the tournament staff reassigned the participants’ seating.
My opponent was a well-built man in his fifties with a kindly expression.
-Let us begin the game.
At last, my first real match.
I reached into the stone container, grabbed a handful of pieces, and concealed them.
‘Black.’
I set the container to my right and bowed respectfully.
“I look forward to this game.”
“Likewise.”
I placed my hand in the stone container and drew a piece.
Cold to the touch.
But with a familiar motion, I placed my first stone on the board.
‘Ah.’
The feeling was different.
Unlike playing Go online, there was a tangible sense of engagement in real competition.
Click.
I withdrew my hand from the board and pressed the game clock button.
This stopped my time and allowed my opponent’s time to run.
‘Play with confidence.’
Verification of skill took priority over winning.
I shook off the tremor and tension of the tournament, then calmly made my next move.
The game unfolded more calmly than expected.
Go befitting his gentle expression.
A playing style that favored profit over combat.
As we moved from the opening into the middle game.
‘What? Cut here?’
White, which had been quiet, suddenly shifted to an aggressive approach.
An unexpected fierce offensive.
But there was no reason to retreat.
My nature itself preferred combat, whether in games or life.
Meeting strength with strength, the fighting spread across the entire board.
The game grew complex, with black and white stones tangled in disarray.
‘This move ends it.’
I drove White into a corner and cut off his breathing room.
He could save the large group, but only at the cost of losing all the territory he’d worked to build.
“Ugh.”
The man groaned.
With a troubled look, he scratched his head and tossed down his stones.
“You play well. Really well—there’s no opening to exploit. None at all.”
“No, you played splendidly too.”
I played well, sure, but I got crushed anyway. I learned a lot from that move.”
“You played well.”
The man pushed back his chair and left.
‘I won again.’
Despite the victory, I felt quite composed.
It hadn’t been an easy win, but I’d never doubted that I would prevail.
I’d maintained the lead throughout, never losing my advantage.
I went to the arbiter and reported my victory.
My name on the tournament bracket advanced to the semifinals.
If the walkover was luck, then this semifinal spot was earned by my own strength.
‘One more win and I’ll place.’
At first, I’d entered just to test my skill.
But once I started winning, I found myself hungry for a prize.
“Move. Don’t you see someone behind you?”
With a gravelly voice, the man behind me shoved past my shoulder.
Dark circles under his eyes, shabby clothes, the stale reek of cigarettes clinging to him.
It was the middle-aged man who’d been smoking at the crosswalk earlier.
“Contestant number 2, Shin Byeongha. Disqualification Loss.”
He announced it to the referee like a statement, stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and walked out of the gymnasium.
I stared after him in disbelief.
The name Shin Byeongha was listed in the semifinals of the 55-and-under Adult Division.
If I made it to the finals, I’d be matched against that man.
‘Think about that after I win.’
There was no rush to worry about it before I’d beaten my semifinal opponent.
I went to the restroom and came back to my seat.
Shin Byeongha returned from his cigarette break, and the other semifinalists took their places.
“Let’s begin the match.”
As the arbiter instructed, I reached to hide my color stone.
Tap-tap.
Shin Byeongha, one shoe off and legs crossed, bounced his leg like an aspen leaf.
‘What kind of person does that?’
Though he wasn’t my opponent, his behavior irritated me enough to furrow my brow.
Then.
Clack.
My semifinal opponent, playing black, placed a stone at Small Tsugi.
I gathered my scattered attention and focused on my own game.
My wiry opponent played carefully.
He used his time wisely, expanding territory with neither rushed nor sluggish moves.
‘Dull.’
He avoided direct confrontation. When disadvantaged, he compromised appropriately and retreated.
A solid playing style.
Yet quick to seize key positions.
‘Can he really win like this?’
In other words, a game without variables.
I gradually whittled away at black’s territory, widening my advantage.
In such a position, black would have few chances for a late-game reversal.
Skillfully played, perhaps, but utterly without interest.
As that thought crossed my mind, my gaze drifted to the board beside me.
Click-click. Click-click.
Shin Byeongha, having captured a small group, was sweeping up over a dozen Captured Stones.
His opponent responded just as quickly, also gathering stones—another small group.
An exchange.
They were swapping small groups, each inflicting mutual damage in violent compromise.
‘That’s interesting Go.’
Mine, by contrast, was far too one-sided.
My opponent’s caution had become a liability.
I couldn’t help glancing over at the next board repeatedly.
‘Wait—was that black stone originally there?’
In the moment I’d left my own game.
The stone arrangement on Shin Byeongha’s board had shifted subtly.
Just one stone.
A black stone that had been on the second line was now on the third.
And the placement was too deliberate.
Without doing an exact count, black’s endgame advantage—worth more than ten points—had been neutralized.
‘……It couldn’t be.’
The stone couldn’t have moved on its own.
What troubled me was the possibility that Shin Byeongha had moved it deliberately.
There were only suspicions, no evidence.
-We’re entering Byoyomi.
Meanwhile, my opponent, who’d exhausted his time, began playing faster.
Already behind on the board, the moment I fell into byoyomi, my game collapsed entirely.
“Shall we count territory?”
“Yes.”
My opponent, sensing defeat, nodded with a darkened expression.
Rustle. Rustle.
Drawing the boundary between black and white, clearing away the captured stones, then beginning to fill in again.
Unlike internet Go, where a single click of the counting button reveals the result, real Go requires arranging the territories and tallying them by hand.
“Forty-seven points.”
“…Including komi, that’s sixty-nine and a half points. I’ve lost. Thank you for the game.”
“Well played.”
My mouth lifted in a small smile—I’d won the match without incident.
Making it to the finals in my first tournament appearance!
My heart was pounding with excitement.
Even if I lost in the finals, at least second place was guaranteed.
Rustle. Rustle.
I turned my head and saw the match beside mine had also entered counting.
‘Black looks a bit ahead, maybe?’
Though I was estimating, from what I could tell of the territory shapes, black appeared to have the advantage.
“…I’ve lost.”
Just as I’d thought, Shin Byeongha won by eight and a half points, clearing his stones and standing.
In contrast, his defeated opponent muttered like someone under a spell.
“That’s strange. I’m sure I don’t remember placing it there…”
Watching his confusion, the words tumbled out reflexively.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes?”
“Are you bothered by the black stone placed on the upper side?”
“How did you know? I’m certain I never placed it there, yet the stone was sitting there.”
“I saw it too. The shape changed in the middle of the game.”
“Ah, then it seems I was… a victim of it after all.”
Only then did the realization dawn on his opponent, who pressed his palms to his temples.
“Stone switching. It’s a trick those betting-game players at baduk clubs pull fairly often.”
“…So it’s cheating? You should report it to the referee.”
“No, don’t bother. The referee didn’t seem to notice, and there’s no CCTV anyway. In small tournaments like this, all sorts of things happen. I’ll just chalk it up to bad luck.”
My opponent slowly pulled his chair back and stood.
His face looked lighter now that his doubt had been resolved.
“Thank you for telling me. I hope you don’t suffer the same fate, and that you win the championship.”
He offered those words of encouragement, then turned and left.
‘This isn’t right at all, is it?’
In the distance, I could see Shin Byeongha, cigarette in mouth, leaving the gymnasium.
He’d placed his name at the very top of the tournament bracket through cheating.
The brazen way he carried himself, as if it were his own skill, made me sick.
‘I don’t want to lose to someone like that.’
For the first time since gaining this Go talent…
I had someone I absolutely wanted to beat.

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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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