I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 56

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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 — Episode 56
A deluxe premium room.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Seoul skyline spread out before me like a work of art.
I cut into the beef steak I’d ordered from room service and took a bite.
“Melting. It’s melting.”
Not long ago, my lunch was a convenience store bento box.
Avoiding the eyes of my coworkers, I’d crouch in the rooftop shelter and eat while counting every few thousand won I was saving.
This moment felt surreal by comparison.
“Still…… Jung Si-hu’s Baduk at 9-dan is something else.”
The Ciel Bank Championship’s Round of 32, broadcast live.
As I watched the match while eating, my admiration never stopped flowing.
Move Reading perfected.
Refined intuition.
Flawless technique.
And the fighting spirit that I’d never felt in past match recordings — it came through completely.
“I want to test myself against him.”
Watching that Baduk, I felt it clearly.
I wanted to compete.
I quietly placed another piece of steak in my mouth.
‘Yu Jeuh-ha’s match isn’t being broadcast, it seems.’
It was unfortunate, but unavoidable.
As Song Tae-gyu 9-dan had said, it was unusual for my Baduk to be broadcast live.
The screen switched, and Lu Chuan’s 9-dan match began to air.
Ranked second in China.
The player now considered most AI-like, surpassing even Jung Si-hu 9-dan.
“……Midgame and his accuracy is already over 67 percent?”
I couldn’t hide my shock.
In a board state so tangled it seemed beyond unraveling, his ability to pinpoint the critical moves was insane.
And besides.
-Um, what? Lu Chuan 9-dan has left the board again. That makes four times today.
‘Food poisoning, maybe?’
Watching him constantly slip away to the restroom throughout the match, he didn’t look well at all.
Yet the fact that he could play Baduk like that despite his condition was genuinely admirable.
Buzz.
Just as I was concentrating, my phone vibrated repeatedly.
Jung Soo-yeon, the team leader.
“Yes, team leader.”
-Is this a good time to talk?
“Please go ahead.”
-Is it true you asked the Korea Baduk Association to delay your Professional Promotion certificate issuance, the photoshoot, and official profile registration?
There was a note of disbelief in her tone.
I answered calmly.
“Yes, I requested it myself.”
-In-ha, you know how big a story your Professional Promotion is, don’t you?
“I do.”
-It’s a turning point for your narrative. We’ve already prepared all the press releases as a publicity tool, and…… is there a reason to delay it suddenly?
Her tone wasn’t accusatory.
It was measured, genuinely asking for my reasoning.
‘I know.’
An ordinary office worker becoming a professional.
It was news in itself, a pivotal moment in my story.
But.
“That may be true for now. But…… if I keep winning and climbing the ranks…… ”
I paused briefly, collecting my thoughts, then continued.
“Wouldn’t it draw more attention to keep my amateur status? For me, for the public, and for sponsors too.”
After my answer, silence stretched across the line.
She didn’t respond right away.
I heard her breathing quietly through the receiver.
-In-ha…… you’re a frightening person, aren’t you.
“Me?”
—Yes. Someone who grasps their own worth precisely and operates with such deliberation…… I’ve never seen it before.
I smiled without speaking.
There are moments when I surprise myself.
Whether I was always like this, or whether I’ve changed.
Or perhaps it’s the influence of the Talent called Baduk.
—Just remember one thing. Everything In-ha said—all of it—must be backed by ‘victory.’ That’s the non-negotiable premise.
“……I understand. That’s why I’m planning to win.”
—I believe in you. The way I always have.
Click.
The call cut off.
I set down my phone and breathed in slowly.
“Actually…… that wasn’t the only reason. There was something else I needed to verify.”
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Beyond raising my own value, there was one reason I hadn’t spoken aloud.
I unfolded the System window I’d left collapsed.
The final line of the updated ‘Career’ section.
—Initiation Points achieved. Official Certificate ‘Professional 1-dan’ acquisition pending.
‘Pending.’
Not complete. Pending.
At first glance it looked finished, but in reality it was a state where final approval hadn’t gone through.
Until now, whenever I’d secured a championship, it had been processed clearly—’Acquired Official Amateur 5-dan,’ that sort of thing.
But this time was different.
Perhaps it was because of Point-based Promotion.
Since it was recognition through numerical achievement, the procedure and formalities seemed necessary.
In other words, I was now in the state just before becoming an official professional.
A point where the System could still technically classify me as an Amateur.
“What if, and I mean what if…… I kept winning from this state?”
As an amateur, reaching the quarterfinals of a world tournament, or the semifinals, or even winning it all.
How would the System interpret that?
The notification window that had appeared before.
[You defeated a master at the Ninth Professional Dan level while maintaining Amateur status.]
[You advanced to the Round of Sixteen in a world tournament as an Amateur.]
At this moment, I stood in that ambiguous gap.
The highest achievements recordable as an amateur, before formal professional certification.
I understood that meaning better than anyone.
That it could never be allowed to slip away.
“Well…… tomorrow I’ll find out.”
I quietly cut another piece of steak.

* * *
Ciel Bank Championship Round of Sixteen.
My opponent was Yu Jung-sang, 9-dan.
He’d advanced through the integrated preliminaries in the Senior Division and won decisively against Zhou Ping 7-dan in the Round of Thirty-Two through careful, measured play.
Such was he.
‘Also the champion of the Eighth Ciel Bank Championship.’
A legend whose name was etched into Korean Baduk history.
Called the Stone General, the player who opened the golden age of aggressive Baduk.
Though he’d passed his peak as he entered the Senior Division, even now he was praised as the domestic master of mid-game complications.
Click-click.
Yet his expression was dark.
He stared down at the Go Board, swallowing a heavy silence.
His face was shadowed, and his fingertips trembled ever so slightly.
Past the opening, now just entering the middle game.
The board wasn’t even half-filled yet.
Barely eighty moves—nowhere near a hundred.
And yet this game had already tilted so far in one direction that there was no turning back.
“……I’ve lost.”
Yu Jung-sang quietly lowered the stones beneath the board lid.
He scratched at his thinning hair and gestured toward the upper right corner.
“I didn’t expect you’d cut me off there.”
He traced the sequence of moves with his finger.
“From the opening, you pressed the board to an extreme—there was no room for compromise.”
I nodded quietly in acknowledgment.
That had been my design.
Yu Jung-sang, 9-dan, held my gaze.
“It was a studied move, then?”
“No. You kept resisting, so I kept resisting as well.”
“…It must have been risky.”
“But wasn’t the same true for you?”
“Heh.”
At my answer, Yu Jung-sang let out a laugh of exasperation.
“So it wasn’t recklessness—you had confidence?”
I nodded quietly.
A collision with not a millimeter of retreat.
The life and death of a large group caught in the midgame.
I’d had confidence I could read every move without error.
“To lose to baduk like this… I have no regrets.”
There was sincerity in those words.
His expression showed not disappointment, but rather a strange lightness.
“Congratulations. I hope to see you on the National Team someday.”
The words were brief, but their weight was anything but light.
The National Team.
I bowed my head in formal respect.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once more, then descended the stage.
In that instant.
*Ding!*
The long-awaited system notification sounded. My Career had been updated.
[Talent: Baduk (A+)]
[Championship Record]
– 30th Ciel Bank Championship World Masters: Quarterfinal advancement.
– Initiation Points achieved. Official Certificate of Professional 1-dan status pending.
– 30th Ciel Bank Championship World Masters: Semifinal advancement.
This much I had anticipated.
What mattered came next.
[You are building an extraordinary legacy.]
[As an amateur, you have defeated a legend of Korean Baduk.]
[As an amateur, you have advanced to the semifinals of a world championship.]
[Additional rewards are being calculated.]
[Congratulations. A Gold Roulette Ticket has been awarded as compensation.]
[You already possess a Gold Roulette Ticket. A choice is offered.]
[The Gold Roulette Ticket can accumulate achievements for future compensation. Will you claim it now? Yes or No]
‘This is it.’
My prediction had proven correct.
The record was accumulating.
If I continued winning as an amateur, a higher reward was guaranteed.
My fingertips trembled slightly with joy.
‘No, absolutely not.’
There was no reason to hesitate.
I wasn’t underestimating the value of a Gold Roulette Ticket.
If a better reward could be guaranteed, it made sense to wait a little longer.
“Kim In-ha, we’d like you to proceed to the interview area.”
Following the staff member’s guidance, I stood and brushed off my clothes.
Steadying my excitement, I moved toward the photo wall.
Camera shutters erupted in rapid succession as the host picked up the microphone.
“Congratulations, Kim In-ha. Could you give us a brief comment on your feelings after advancing to the semifinals by defeating Yu Jung-sang, 9-dan?”
“I’m pleased to have won.”
The host smiled and nodded.
“Remarkably, you achieved a resignation victory in just 78 moves. The decisive moment came in the large group’s life and death situation early on—wasn’t it risky?”
“Personally, I rather enjoy the thrill.”
Light laughter rippled through the room.
A response distinctly different from before.
I was once a rude amateur, but as I proved myself through results, their gazes and attitudes were shifting, however gradually.
Of course, not entirely.
“Next, we’ll take a question from our Chinese colleagues.”
A journalist raised his hand and accepted the microphone.
Fluent Mandarin followed, and the simultaneous translation reached me.
“I believe luck played a significant role in Kim In-ha’s quarterfinal advancement. I’m curious about your thoughts on this, and I’d also appreciate your assessment of Liu Cheng 8-dan’s play, whom you’ll face in the quarterfinals.”
The air in the hall turned subtly cold.
A rather blunt question.
One that reduced my achievement to luck while elevating my next opponent.
I drew in a slow breath.
“Win and it’s luck, lose and it’s lack of skill. How convenient.”
For a moment, silence hung in the air.
“…I’m sorry, but I don’t actually know who Liu Cheng 8-dan is.”
As the interpreter finished, the Chinese journalist’s expression hardened completely.
Words that could easily sound disrespectful.
But I didn’t care.
“So naturally, I don’t know much about Liu Cheng 8-dan’s play either.”
I lowered the microphone and bowed quietly.
Camera shutters erupted again.
The Chinese journalist’s face flushed red as he raised his hand, but no further questions were permitted.
Because I had already left the photo wall.

* * *
After finishing the interview, I returned to my hotel room.
A space that now felt more comfortable than my own bedroom.
I was barely out of my coat before calling my mother.
“Hello? Yes, Mom. Of course. I won. We can celebrate later when you get here. Where are you now? Oh, you’re almost here. I’ll head down to the lobby when you arrive.”
I hung up and exhaled quietly, my chest swelling with satisfaction.
Today, I planned to have my parents stay at this hotel.
I’d already booked a table at the hotel’s renowned restaurant for a multi-course dinner.
Filial piety I’d put off.
Something small but something I desperately wanted to do for them.
“Well… I’ll check the backlog of messages later.”
I set down my phone.
News links from Yeon-hee, congratulatory messages from the Branch Manager, and more.
Dozens had piled up, but for now, there was something more important to attend to.
“I’m feeling good about today.”
Throughout the match, I felt my senses alive and sharp.
My Move Reading was precise, my Position Evaluation accurate.
My calculated calculations targeting the system’s blind spots hit exactly as planned.
To cap it off, I’d spend quality time with my parents afterward.
“On a day like this, shouldn’t I take a chance?”
I opened the system window.
The Gold Roulette Ticket I’d received as a reward for advancing past the Round of 16 came to mind.
[Will you use the Gold Roulette Ticket now? (Minimum C-rank Talent acquisition)]
“Let’s go.”
Without hesitation, I tapped the button with my fingertip.
The familiar golden-bordered roulette wheel appeared.
Whirrrr.
Dozens of slots marked with question marks began spinning rapidly.
The wheel rotated at a speed that wouldn’t let my eyes look away.
Gulp.
As time passed, the roulette gradually slowed.
The needle came to rest slowly before one section.
The question mark faded gradually, and the hidden talent’s name appeared on the screen.

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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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