I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 61

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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 Talents That Make Money — Episode 61
“……What?”
Even seeing it, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it at first.
Between the Ciel Bank Quarterfinals and Semifinals, a brief gap of three weeks.
During those three weeks, Yu Jeuh-ha and I had been preparing for the Su Yeon Cup Pair Go Championship.
And then.
A cancellation message arrived out of nowhere.
With no warning or explanation, I was utterly bewildered.
It felt like being blindsided by a punch from thin air.
“……Let’s head to the research center first.”
I steadied my breathing and pressed the accelerator.
I parked the car in the lot beside the building and entered the Giseong Research Center.
“You’re here.”
Park Jin-woo looked up.
Something about his gaze seemed heavier than usual.
“……Kim Min-ho.”
Kim Min-ho, seated across from me, also wore a cautious air.
I greeted him briefly and went straight to the point.
“Park, what’s happened to Yu Jeuh-ha?”
I pulled out my smartphone and showed him the cancellation message from the Korea Baduk Association.
Park Jin-woo exhaled deeply.
“Yu Jeuh-ha…… withdrew from the Korea Baduk Association.”
“What?”
The shock cut deeper than the message itself.
Why so suddenly?
Confusion swirled through my mind.
Withdrawal meant she would no longer act as a Professional Go Player in Korea.
“Yu Jeuh-ha’s father…… he’s Okita, a 9-dan from Japan. Apparently he collapsed not long ago. He’s still unconscious right now. As for the tournament…… he probably won’t remember anything about it.”
Park Jin-woo sighed again.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but she made such a point of asking me not to.”
“Asking you not to?”
“She said it’s an important time for you. She wanted to delay telling you so it wouldn’t interfere with your matches.”
For a moment, I had no words.
A dull ache bloomed somewhere deep in my chest.
Kim Min-ho ventured carefully, “……Yu Jeuh-ha had high hopes about playing Pair Go with you.”
“I did too.”
I laughed, albeit tersely.
It was disappointing.
I’d wanted us to win the Su Yeon Cup together and make it to the world championships.
I’d wanted to lead her, to support her…… but I never imagined it would fall apart like this.
Park Jin-woo opened his mouth again.
“She’s managed well on her own…… but she’s only twenty-one. It’s not an age where you can shoulder everything easily. Her father was more than just Go and her future to her—he held a special place.”
I nodded quietly.
I’d heard fragments of this before.
How her father had supported her, traveling back and forth between Japan and Korea, when she was barely ten years old.
He must have been a pillar of strength for her.
“I hope he recovers.”
Park Jin-woo nodded.
Then he seemed to remember something and added, “Oh, Yu Jeuh-ha had a message she wanted me to pass along.”
“To me?”
“She said she hopes that the Go you admire so much will claim victory. She’ll always be rooting for you.”
At those words, the light in Yu Jeuh-ha’s eyes as she looked at me came flooding back—that gentle smile.
Go that had become someone’s aspiration.
That realization stirred in me a hunger to play better.
“I can’t afford to lose.”
“Good resolve. Well, the rest of us need to prepare for what comes next. But first—congratulations on the Semifinals.”
“Thank you.”
I bowed my head.

Park Jin-woo turned his attention to the monitor for post-game review.
“Let’s analyze the moves of Wu Xiaowei, 9-dan, our opponent in the semifinals.”
“Master.”
I called to him quietly.
Park Jin-woo, who had paused his mouse, turned his head.
“Skip the semifinals, please.”
“What?”
“I want to prepare for the finals.”
Park Jin-woo’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re confident you can beat Wu Xiaowei, 9-dan?”
“There’s no certainty in competition, but…… I’ve worked out how to face him.”
It might have sounded like bluster.
But I was certain.
Dozens of games replayed through the DeepStone Simulation.
Precise post-game analysis.
A sense refined through all of that.
I could see the path to a favorable position in the semifinals.
“I’d rather not face him directly.”
“This could turn into an interesting game.”
Park Jin-woo didn’t press further.
It was clear he trusted me.
“If that’s what you say, then let’s put our effort into analyzing our finals opponent.”
Park Jin-woo closed the window and launched DeepStone.
The game record of Jung Si-hu, 9-dan, unfolded on the screen.
Park Jin-woo moved the mouse, examining move after move.
“Strong from the opening itself. He breaks conventional form unconventionally, but every move is researched. His midgame fighting is elegant, yet there’s no wasted play.”
I nodded in agreement.
Jung Si-hu’s Go was, quite simply, flawless.
His synchronization rate with AI was high, and he implemented optimal moves with precision.
“There’s no opening to exploit. His reading is deep, his position evaluation and endgame are perfect. Most of all, he sets aside emotion and remains cold.”
“This won’t be easy.”
“No. But there’s no need to be afraid.”
Park Jin-woo looked at me.
“Play it straight. With your own Go. Tricks won’t work.”
“That’s my intention.”
I smiled quietly.
Exactly what I wanted to hear.
That was my plan all along.
Jung Si-hu, 9-dan, was the opponent I wanted to face head-to-head with everything I had, rather than through tactics and strategy.
Park Jin-woo’s mouse moved to another game record.
It was the finals of a Chinese domestic tournament played by Lu Queran, 9-dan, ranked second in the world.
“……If someone asked me which of these two I’d want to face in the finals…”
Park Jin-woo paused for a moment, then added quietly.
“I’d choose Jung Si-hu.”
“Not Lu Queran?”
He nodded while reviewing the game record.
A peculiar tension flickered in his eyes.
“Lu Queran’s AI accuracy rate…… has transcended the limits of humanity.”

* * *
Deluxe room.
Wu Xiaowei, 9-dan, stood before the mirror, adjusting his formal attire.
Though he’d arrived late yesterday, he’d slept well, and his condition was fine.
He’d meditated according to routine and warmed himself up with a cup of hot Americano.
“I’ll win.”
He tapped his cheek lightly, steeling his resolve.
For the past three weeks, his preparation had been thorough.
He and his teammates from the Chinese League A had analyzed every single game record of Kim In-ha.
From his days as an unknown player all the way through the unified preliminaries—not a single game missed.
What Wu Xiaowei and his team’s professionals saw in Kim In-ha’s Go was this:
Human intuition layered atop AI Formation—Domination-style Go.
A style that seizes the opponent, shakes them, and ultimately crumbles them.
But he’d found a way to counter it as well.
“More precisely, it’s a tricky countermeasure.”
He murmured with satisfaction and left the room.
When he reached the first-floor lobby, reporters were waiting.
As he moved toward the event banner, microphones thrust toward him.
“You played in the Chinese League A yesterday and now face the semifinals. How’s your condition?”
“My practical instincts have peaked.”
He answered with ease.
“Recently, Chinese players have been losing consecutively to Kim In-ha. Can we expect a victory today?”
The reporters’ questions were cautious.
China, which had prided itself as the center of world Go, had crumbled repeatedly to a Korean amateur.
“I’ve prepared thoroughly. Honestly, I don’t see how I’ll lose.”
The confident reply shifted the mood.
The faces of the Chinese reporters brightened with anticipation of victory.
Then the elevator doors opened and a man stepped out.
Kim In-ha.
In an instant, every Korean reporter in the lobby rushed toward him.
More than twice the previous number.
Many reporters from media outlets beyond Go coverage were visible.
“Kim In-ha, how is your condition today?”
“Good. No reason for it not to be.”
“Wu Xiaowei said he’s prepared thoroughly for today’s match against you. Do you have a counter-strategy?”
“A counter-strategy, you say?”
Kim In-ha smiled meaningfully.
“I’m not sure such preparations will matter much.”
“Ha-ha.”
Laughter rippled through the Korean reporters.
“I’ll win with the Go I’ve always played. Cutting, fighting, shaking.”
Through interpretation, his words reached the ears of the Chinese reporters.
Their expressions cooled. Their eyes gleamed with hostility.
And Wu Xiaowei heard it too.
‘Arrogant bastard.’
Yes, go ahead and strut.
When the match ended today, he’d be the one smiling.
Wu Xiaowei headed to the playing hall first.
He sat down, took a deep breath, and waited for his opponent.
Soon Kim In-ha took his seat across the board.
His expression showed composure rather than tension.
Even that grated on him.
But he controlled himself.
This was a time to approach the match colder and more dispassionate than anyone.
Moments later, the signal came to begin.
Rustle.
The two reached for the stones.
Black: Wu Xiaowei
White: Kim In-ha.
The match began with Wu Xiaowei’s opening move.
The following moves developed conventionally.
‘Which will he choose?’
Kim In-ha primarily employs two opening strategies.
AI-based openings.
Or Unconventional Openings that spread wide across the board.
Click.
A white stone was placed.
‘AI opening.’
A steady, territory-focused approach.
A cautious beginning.
Exactly what he’d hoped for.
‘The battle is decided in the midgame.’
To prepare for combat, he had played each stone carefully, considering joseki, shape, and arrangement.
The burden of giving odds was there, but it didn’t matter.
The placement of key stones.
The vital center running through the flow.
And he had secured enough territory so the gap in points wouldn’t widen.
As play moved from early midgame into the main midgame, he sensed intuitively that the flow was tilting in his favor.
Wu Xiaowei 9-dan threw down a decisive move.
Click.
He cut.
White retreated.
‘The situation isn’t good for fighting.’
Click.
He invaded.
White defended.
‘How long can he evade?’
Click.
A tempting probe.
An appetizing lure.
But White held firm.
For the first time, emotion flickered across his impassive face.
‘……What are you doing?’
He did not respond to the provocation.
This quiet, restrained style wasn’t Kim In-ha’s way at all…….
There should have been resistance by now.
He’d said so in the interview too.
That he would provoke, fight, and provoke again.
But this was nothing like that.
Even when stones clashed, they slipped past in a tacit, serene silence.
Click.
He played another tempting move.
To any observer, an appetizing stone.
Yet this time too, White ignored it.
He withdrew calmly, defending with steady hands.
Quiet and resolute, like an unbreakable fortress.
For a moment, Wu Xiaowei 9-dan even wondered if he were playing against someone other than Kim In-ha.
Only then did Wu Xiaowei 9-dan realize something was wrong.
‘Could it be……he never intended to fight from the start?’
He caught his breath sharply.
This was Go designed to exhaust the opponent.
Go that crushed without provoking, without fighting, without turbulence.
An antiquated relic abandoned by the Go world more than a decade ago.
‘You think you’ll beat me with this kind of Go?’
The feeling of being dismissed was bitter.
And yet, an inexplicable dread kept gnawing at him.
The anxiety that he might lose.
And as play moved toward the endgame, that premonition began to turn real.

* * *
Go is a game where victory exists.
Win by capturing a large group, win by ten stones, win by two stones in counting.
In the end, the result is the same.
Playing style?
That too.
It’s merely a method to win.
The essence is singular: not ‘how’ but ‘who’ emerges victorious.
‘I avoided fighting?’
Wu Xiaowei 9-dan had misunderstood.
To know how to evade a fight means to understand that fight better than anyone.
I had captured the stones.
Click.
White responded quietly again to Black’s fierce assault.
A Defensive Response.
A solid answer.
Black’s offensive continued, but the board state held firm.
‘Keep attacking me.’
My Go today is resolute.
……I’m not here to fight. I’m here to win.

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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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