I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 52

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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 Money-Making Talent 052
Monday.
The house was in chaos from morning, as if a war zone had descended upon it.
“You’re going to be late at this rate. Just do it roughly.”
“No, you said there’d be filming too. And dear, your necktie is crooked.”
“What? Ugh. I haven’t done this in ages—it’s harder than I remember.”
Mom smoothed her hair in front of the bedroom mirror.
Dad knotted his tie over his new shirt.
In any other circumstance, I’d have assumed a family wedding was happening.
I sat by the dining table and spoke quietly, sipping water.
“You should head downstairs now. Otherwise you’ll be late.”
Truth be told, I’d wanted to tell them it was all a bit much, but I swallowed the words.
‘Well, this much should be fine.’
I’d bought my parents new clothes and shoes—compensation for raising an unremarkable son like me.
Their first official event, invited by their son.
I’d hoped they’d come home in the best of spirits.
“That’s everything, In-ha. Let’s go.”
I hurried out the front door with my parents, who were equally rushed in pulling on their shoes.
“Take your time. Don’t trip.”
“They’re waiting, so we need to hurry.”
Just as we stepped through the gate in a flurry—
“Manager Kim.”
A Mercedes S-Class sat parked in front of the door.
A familiar face appeared through the passenger window.
“Branch Manager? How did you come all the way here?”
“You mentioned your parents’ knees aren’t in good shape. No need for you to make the trip down. I’ll come instead.”
I was momentarily at a loss for words.
He was right, but I felt embarrassed that he’d driven such a large car up this narrow alley.
“Oh, Branch Manager. You shouldn’t have come all the way to our humble neighborhood…”
“Are you In-ha’s father? It’s an honor to meet you.”
The Branch Manager stepped out of the car and bowed with formal courtesy.
“I apologize for the trouble so early in the morning.”
“Please, don’t say such things. You’ve raised Manager Kim so well—I’ve been reaping the benefits lately myself.”
At the Branch Manager’s warm smile, Father’s face grew fond as he looked at me.
“Come now, let’s get in. I’ll see you to the venue myself.”
The Branch Manager personally opened the rear door for us.
I took the front passenger seat, while my parents settled into the back with uncertain expressions.
The car moved slowly forward.
Familiar neighborhood sights drifted past the window at an easy pace.
Once we’d turned onto the main road, the Branch Manager spoke up casually.
“Thank you for inviting me, Manager Kim.”
“Please don’t say that. It’s nothing compared to all you’ve done for me.”
Today was the day of the draw for the Ciel Bank World Masters 32-strong bracket.
The official invitation had come with two tickets.
I’d asked Team Lead Jung Soo-yeon for an additional one and given it to the Branch Manager.
A gathering where the world’s elite Professional Go players converge in one place.
For the Branch Manager, it was an opportunity that might come only once in a lifetime.
I’d wanted to invite him.
The Branch Manager glanced at the back seat through the rearview mirror.
“You two must feel secure having such a fine son.”
“Not at all. We haven’t done anything for him to speak of.”
Mother replied with humility, and Father offered a modest, slightly embarrassed smile.
The atmosphere inside the car was surprisingly warm and gentle.
I found myself hoping that, at least for today, the small sorrows my parents had endured might fade away a little.
After driving for some time, we arrived in Mokdong, Seoul.
Ciel Bank International Campus.
We parked in the basement and made our way up to the main building where the draw was being held.
After our credentials were checked and we entered the lobby, Go journalists and Professional players from Korea, China, and Japan caught my eye.
“Manager Kim… I’ll step away for a moment and be back. See you at the draw.”
The Branch Manager headed off somewhere, unable to contain his excitement.
I could picture it without looking.
He’d gone to meet Go players from various countries, asking for autographs and photos.
But that’s beside the point.
‘Somehow I’m nervous too.’
The world-class Go players I’d only heard about.
This was my first time facing them in person.
‘That man over there……’
A man surrounded by Go journalists from Korea, China, and Japan, being interviewed.
Tall, dressed in a sharp suit.
Sharp features behind glasses.
With each word he spoke, the journalists nodded and scribbled notes.
Jung Si-hu, 9 Dan.
The monster who’d held the number one world ranking for seven consecutive years.
Simply being on the same main tournament stage as him, a figure of such overwhelming presence, made reality feel slightly hazy.
“In-ha.”
I turned to find Jung Soo-yeon and the filming crew.
Now that I thought about it, the response to the first episode when it uploaded had been lukewarm, just as expected.
It was mentioned in online communities, but not enough to capture the general public’s attention.
The view count was merely decent.
It seemed like more time was needed.
“I’m looking forward to today’s interview.”
Jung Soo-yeon smiled meaningfully as she spoke.
I gave a short nod.
“I’ll just speak honestly, the way I feel.”
As I always do.
No grandiose words, no pretense.
“That’s all we need.”
Jung Soo-yeon stepped back and began filming.
I entered the main hall with my parents.
The first thing that caught my eye was the stage.
— The 30th Ciel Bank World Masters
A massive banner hung above.
Beneath it, a backdrop wall emblazoned with the Ciel Bank logo.
On the platform, scrolls for the pairing draw lay arranged neatly.
“Invited guests are requested to use the seating in the upper section, if you please.”
At the usher’s direction, my parents nodded and moved to their seats.
I accepted a booklet containing the tournament rules and a list of participants, then headed toward the players’ seating area.
……
I sat in my designated seat and looked around.
Not all the professional players had arrived yet, but simply being in that space made the air feel different.
Sparse conversation, cautious greetings and expressions.
The atmosphere of the main tournament — a blend of restraint and tension.
I quietly opened the booklet and scanned the participant list.
The names of elite players were arranged with their nationality and dan rank.
And among them, my name was there.
Name: Kim In-ha
Nationality: Republic of Korea
Rank: Amateur 7 Dan
‘Amateur.’
In the old days, those three letters would have made me feel small.
But now it’s different.
A seat I’d earned through my own Go.
I’d already proven I had every right to be on this stage.
Perhaps that’s why.
‘This is…… kind of cool, actually.’
Laughter escaped me unbidden.
Some of my nervousness eased.
That’s when our eyes met—Yu Jeuh-ha, entering alone.
A formal suit, nothing I’d seen her wear before.
She’d just arrived, so she greeted me with a nod and went to take her designated seat.
“In a moment, we’ll begin the draw for the 30th Ciel Bank World Masters main tournament round of 32. Players, please take your seats.”
As the announcer’s voice echoed through the hall, empty chairs began to fill one by one.
Players in formal attire settled into their seats quietly.
The hall filled with a subtle tension.
Soon the formal draw ceremony commenced.
“We’ll now proceed with the opening ceremony. Inviting the Vice President of Ciel Bank…….”
A formulaic but necessary step—the opening address.
Applause.
A few brief words of congratulation.
After the organizers took their commemorative photograph, the main draw began.
“We’re beginning the draw for the 30th Ciel Bank World Masters round of 32. As players are introduced, please come on stage and proceed with your draw. Some of you will also participate in brief interviews.”
The hall’s lights dimmed, and a spotlight concentrated on the podium where the tablet lay.
Everyone’s attention fixed on the stage.
“Our first player is Lu Queran, 9-Dan, last year’s champion from China.”
To applause, a tall silhouette in a gray suit walked onto the stage.
He drew a tablet without a word.
“Lu Queran, 9-Dan, is number 7.”
The attendant placed his nameplate in position 7 on the tournament bracket.
“Currently ranked 2nd in the world and last year’s champion. What are your thoughts going into this tournament?”
He answered the announcer’s question briefly in Chinese.
“As always, I’ll win quietly and return home.”
The interpreter’s translation drew light applause.
Lu Queran, 9-Dan, bowed lightly and withdrew.
I was beginning to understand how the draw worked.
And my turn would be——
’31st.’
Nearly last.
“Next is Fujisaki, 9-Dan from Japan.”
Followed by——
Kim Eun-woo, 9-Dan from Korea.
Zhou Xuwan, 9-Dan from China.
Leading players from each country took the stage in turn.
As each name was added to the bracket, the tension grew.
“Next is Liu Chen, 8-Dan from China.”
Early twenties.
Sharp glasses, slicked-back hair.
A confident bearing.
A player known for provocative words and an aggressive style.
“Position 25. Liu Chen, 8-Dan, you’re being watched as a leading representative of the next generation of Chinese Go. Is there an opponent you’d like to face, or one you’d prefer to avoid?”
He spoke immediately.
Simultaneous interpretation.
“I don’t fear any opponent. But there is one I’d like to face.”
A pause.
Then he mentioned an unexpected name.
“Nameless.”
An unforeseen call-out.
I was startled too.
We had no connection whatsoever.
Murmurs rippled through the hall—who was Nameless?
The room fell into sudden silence, and I felt multiple gazes turn toward me.
“You mean Kim In-ha, the amateur player from Korea?”
At the announcer’s question, Liu Chen, 8-Dan nodded and looked directly at me.
“There’s a saying: a Chinese professional loses to a Korean amateur. I intend to erase that shame at this tournament.”
And he added one more thing.
“I’ll teach you directly what it means to have proper courtesy in a match.”
As the simultaneous interpretation ended, murmurs erupted throughout the hall.
A high-level provocation.
I’d heard through Yu Jeuh-ha that Chinese opinion hadn’t been favorable since my amateur status was revealed.
But I never imagined I’d be publicly targeted like this.
‘……This is interesting.’
He drew a quiet breath and smiled faintly.
Not elated, not worked up.
Their discomfort toward me—toward the Nameless—only made me calmer.
There was nothing to feel wronged about.
In the end, results speak for themselves.
The announcer quieted the overheated atmosphere.
“Next, we have Korea’s Kang Seo-jun, 9 Dan.”
Kang Seo-jun climbed the stage slowly, with measured steps.
Small in stature, but his gaze was sharp.
The kind of keen, piercing eyes that seemed to see through an opponent’s every weakness.
“You’ve claimed two domestic championship titles this year, showing fine momentum. If you could share your resolve and thoughts.”
Kang Seo-jun spoke with ease.
“I saw an interesting article recently.”
The announcer tilted his head at the unexpected opening.
But Kang Seo-jun paid it no mind and continued.
“It was an interview from an amateur tournament. Someone introduced themselves as undefeated, saying they’d keep climbing until they lost.”
Before he’d finished, his gaze fixed on me.
Direct. Unambiguous.
‘Here we go again.’
A second public jab.
“I thought I’d show that person what the professional world is truly like.”
I laughed inwardly.
Not a forced laugh, not a sneer.
Simply—his words landed differently than he intended.
‘He’s aware of me.’
It was thrilling, in a strange way.
Two elite players from China and Korea.
Both of them calling out a nameless amateur like me.
After his interview, Kang Seo-jun moved toward the photo wall with an unhurried smile.
“Our next player is Jung Si-hu, 9 Dan, runner-up from last year’s tournament.”
The shutters of cameras crackled.
Cameras panned and shifted.
Jung Si-hu’s face filled the screen in close-up.
But I didn’t catch what he said, or what ambitions he declared.
Only a vague memory remained—something about defeating Lu Queran, who won last year.
My mind held only one thought.
‘How should I respond.’
Then the announcer called my name.
“Next is Kim In-ha. The only amateur player to advance to the main tournament through the Unified Preliminary.”
I rose from my seat and walked slowly onto the stage.
Two scrolls remained uncalled in the center.
Number three.
The seed containing Jung Si-hu, 9 Dan, and Lu Queran, 9 Dan—the top contenders.
And twenty-six.
The seed with Liu Chen, 8 Dan, who’d taken aim at me, and Kang Seo-jun.
Either one was fine.
But if I had to choose…
I reached out and unrolled the scroll.
“Twenty-six!”
The announcer’s voice rang out with excitement.
All eyes turned toward me again.
“A few words, please.”
I took the microphone, steadied my breathing, and lifted my head.
Standing here on this stage, it felt surreal in a way I hadn’t expected.
A stage watched and scrutinized by the entire world.
‘This isn’t the place to be cocky.’
But.
I wasn’t raised to take a hit and stay silent.
I spoke calmly and deliberately.
“I’m pleased to have drawn the number I wanted.”
A statement brief but distinct.
Neither deferential nor provocative.
Yet the intent was unmistakable.
I turned my head to regard Liu Chen, 8-dan.
“I didn’t come here to learn. I came to win.”
As the simultaneous interpretation finished, a light gasp swept through the hall.
At the same moment, Liu Chen’s expression hardened visibly.
I took in that look, then turned my head the other way.
Kang Seo-jun, 9-dan.
His gaze held a mixture of intrigue and amusement.
Finally, I added the words calmly, as though speaking to myself.
“And I’ll keep climbing. Until I lose.”
The hall erupted into murmurs once more.
Shock.
Excitement.
Astonishment.
And in that moment, my lips curved upward without my thinking.
Yes—I smiled.
Composure.
And beneath it, a thread of bravado woven into confidence.
My heart lay calm, yet somewhere along my spine ran a tremor of current.
This situation.
This moment.
This thrill.
……I was savoring it.

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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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