I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 7

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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 Marketable Talents — Episode 7
“Would you have a moment to step aside and talk?”
“Oh, of course.”
As we moved to the tournament officials’ section, the supervisor introduced himself.
“My apologies for the late introduction. I’m An Seong-hyeon, Professional 7-Dan.”
“…Kim In-ha.”
A Professional Go Player.
A master craftsman of Go who had reached the pinnacle of the game.
Standing before such a person, he seemed to tower over me.
An Seong-hyeon bowed deeply.
“On behalf of the tournament organizers, I apologize for our slow response to this unfortunate incident.”
“No, please. With so many matches, how could you possibly oversee them all?”
As I waved my hand dismissively, he smiled warmly.
“I watched your Replay Analysis. After the stones were moved, you overcame a losing position and turned the board around. Honestly, I was impressed.”
“Really…is that so?”
“Yes. That final move you played was exquisite. It’s the kind of Brilliant Move you don’t often see in amateur tournaments.”
I couldn’t gather my wits at An Seong-hyeon’s praise.
‘A Brilliant Move? That move I played?’
It was simply the only move that could reverse the situation, the best move available.
That’s why I’d placed it there.
Yet hearing a “Professional Go Player” call it a Brilliant Move — of all people — left me reeling.
My chest felt strangely tight.
“So, are you perhaps a Research Student?”
“I’m sorry? A Research Student?”
I blinked, bewildered.
A flicker of confusion crossed An Seong-hyeon’s face.
“You don’t know what a Research Student is?”
“No, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Well…simply put, they’re people preparing to turn professional. Depending on their results, they get a chance to enter the professional ranks.”
“Oh, I’m not one of those. I’ve only been playing Go for a short while.”
“…You’ve only been playing Go for a short while?”
I cursed myself silently at An Seong-hyeon’s reaction.
His eyes were filled with bewilderment.
“I mean, I’ve only recently taken a serious interest in Go.”
“Then you wouldn’t have a Kup Grade or Dan Certificate either?”
“No, I don’t.”
I held back from saying more — if I did, I’d only sound stranger.
Watching my reaction, An Seong-hyeon continued gently.
“I see. Well, when you have the time, I’d encourage you to participate in the Go Association’s tournaments. If you place, you should be able to obtain an official Kup Grade or Dan Certificate.”
“Really? Then I’ll give it some thought.”
“Yes. Once you earn a Dan Certificate, you’ll be eligible to compete in the Amateur Championship Division as well.”
“Thank you for the advice. I appreciate it.”
I gave an awkward smile and nodded.
‘But why is he telling me all this?’
From An Seong-hyeon’s perspective, I was just another ordinary amateur tournament participant.
Yet the way he spoke made it feel like he was encouraging me to earn a Dan Certificate and enter the Championship Division.
‘…Still, a free Dan Certificate sounds pretty appealing.’
It was then that he spoke again.
“Ah, I nearly forgot — I should have said this first.”
An Seong-hyeon met my eyes and smiled.
“Congratulations on your championship.”
“…!”
In that moment, the tension drained from me completely.
Something warm surged up from deep within my chest.
‘Right. I won first place.’
Only then did it truly sink in.
My first Go tournament ever.
That I was the champion.

* * *
Monday Syndrome.
Every office worker suffers from it.
And I was no exception.
Ever since I’d started work as a bank security guard, it had dogged me the entire commute.
“Ah, what a relief.”
But today was different.
The afterglow of winning the Go tournament hadn’t faded yet.
‘Mom and Dad were so pleased too.’
Saturday evening, the three of us sat down to dinner together for the first time in ages.
My son, who throughout his school years had brought home nothing but a perfect attendance certificate.
Had come home clutching a tournament trophy—something he’d never won before in his life.
We grilled meat, sipped the traditional liquor that came with the tournament prize, and savored the moment.
For our family, weighed down by debt and rarely given cause to smile, it felt like rain after a drought.
‘I felt like I was finally giving something back.’
My eyes had grown warm without meaning to.
I wished I could do more for them, but as an inadequate son, I could only feel sorry.
-Next stop: Samil Market.
I pressed the bell and gripped the overhead rail.
‘The prize money should come through sometime today, they said.’
Five hundred thousand won.
It was modest, or substantial, depending on how you looked at it.
But on a salary under two million won, it was a significant sum.
‘I saw yesterday that local government and Go Association tournaments offer much larger prizes.’
The average first-place prize money ranges from one to three million won.
Far more than my current salary.
If I were lucky enough to win a local government tournament and earn my Dan Certificate…
I’d qualify to compete in the national championship.
Placing well there could net me more prize money than several months of salary combined.
Of course, only if I placed.
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself. What are you becoming anyway?’
I’d won one regional tournament, that was all.
With limited actual games under my belt, my online Go rating had stalled at 4 Dan.
It was too early to be overconfident.
As I calmed my racing mind, the bus pulled up to the stop.
I got off and rounded the corner of the market—there was the bank building.
Climbing the front entrance steps, I spotted a luxury car parked nearby.
‘That’s the Branch Manager’s car, isn’t it?’
Opening the bank is part of my job.
I have to disarm the security system and raise the shutter, so I usually arrive earlier than the other staff.
But the new Branch Manager had a habit of arriving even earlier than I did.
First, I went to the locker room and changed into my uniform.
A neat, formal-style work outfit.
The ironic thing was that despite being a bank security guard, I worked without a single gas canister for self-defense purposes.
‘…Instead, I’m wringing out a mop.’
Mop in hand, dripping wet and wrung tight, I headed for the Branch Manager’s office.
Usually, the cleaning lady handled the bank’s janitorial work, but the Branch Manager’s office was an exception.
The Branch Manager had given orders that I handle it, citing security reasons.
Knock, knock.
“Branch Manager, I’m here to clean. Sir? Are you not in?”
After knocking several more times with no response, I carefully opened the door and stepped inside.
The office was empty, as I’d expected.
I was actually glad. Running into him would have been awkward, and he’d probably launch into complaints.
I wiped the low dresser beside the door where a potted plant sat.
Moving along to the double-door cabinet, then the bookcase, then the safe, my gaze caught on a Go board.
“He was doing Fuqi Analysis.”
The process of tracing through a game record, reconstructing the moves, and searching for better plays.
Before I understood Go, I’d wondered what he was doing. Now I thought I knew.
“The board position is interesting, though.”
Intrigued, I moved closer to the board.
Just from the shape alone, the arrangement of black and white stones was elegant.
Sharp exchanges flew across the board, yet the position held steady.
The intent was not to play the best move, but the supreme move—and it showed in every stone.
“So this is… professional Go.”
A sudden hunger seized me: I wanted to play like this.
With that thought, I found myself absorbed completely in the game.
Black’s turn next.
If I were playing, where would I place it?
‘Not here. If I withdraw, I secure territory but fall behind in tempo. But pushing elsewhere carries too much risk.’
Even accounting for a point of komi, the margin was half a point in White’s favor.
A brilliant move that could widen Black’s advantage decisively.
I lost track of time, utterly absorbed.
“I’ve got it.”
Like a man possessed, I picked up a black stone and placed it on the board.
Snap!
At first glance, a bad move—a sacrifice.
But through this stone’s sacrifice, Black’s dead group would find life, and White’s territory would crumble.
The moment my fingers left the stone, a quiet satisfaction bloomed.
Whether it was the correct move or not, I couldn’t say.
But it was the best, the supreme move I could play right now.
“Good morning, Branch Manager!”
“……!”
Just then, I heard staff greeting each other outside the door.
Heavy footsteps drew closer, echoing off the floor. The Branch Manager.
Creak.
The door opened and he stepped inside.
“Still cleaning?”
“Yes, almost finished.”
Flustered, I made a show of wiping down a table.
The gaunt, irritable-looking Branch Manager studied me for a moment.
“While you’re at it, get the corners under that planter over there too.”
Once he’d finished speaking, the Branch Manager settled onto the leather sofa in front of the board.
Then he picked up the Game Record Book, which had been face-down.
‘Oh no—I didn’t clear the stones.’
My throat went dry.
I’d placed that stone not from the game record, but purely of my own will.
If he noticed a stone in the wrong place, he might rain blame down on me.
“Hmm, did I play a move like this?”
“……!”
My body tensed involuntarily.
A glance showed the Branch Manager’s brow furrowed.
It seemed he was second-guessing his own memory.
“In-ha.”
“Yes?”
“You said you’d never studied Go, right?”
At the sudden question, my mind went blank.
No answer came to me.
The Branch Manager’s expression grew stern as he crossed his arms and gazed down at the board.
“Go, you see, isn’t just about placing stones. It’s just like life.”
Having said this, the Branch Manager slowly extended his hand.
“This move here—it’s one of the most celebrated Moves of God in Go’s history.”
“……!”
The stone his finger pointed to—
it was the very move I’d placed after all that deliberation.
“You should know how to play a move like that someday, In-ha. You can’t live like this forever, can you?”
“I… I suppose not.”
“Go could be your beginning. Learn it. Young people these days ignore good advice even when you give it to them. You tell someone to study Go, and they pretend not to hear. Tsk tsk.”
Having delivered this lecture, the Branch Manager waved his hand dismissively, gesturing for me to leave.
I bowed hastily and slipped out of his office like a fugitive.
“Whew.”
Fortunately, he hadn’t realized I was the one who’d placed that stone.
More than anything, the Branch Manager’s words from earlier kept echoing in his mind—something about the Move of God.
‘He just wanted to lecture me again, so he threw that in.’
He was the type who enjoyed using aphorisms and maxims, anything that sounded impressive.
Kim In-ha dismissed the thought and made his way toward the restroom.
Passing the locker room, he overheard a conversation between Ha Gyejang and Park Gwajang.
“Wasn’t there supposed to be a new employee starting today?”
“Yes. They said it was through an additional public recruitment.”
“It’s ridiculous, really. They keep talking about consolidating branches, but headquarters is still hiring.”
An additional public recruitment—he’d applied for that a few months back.
He hadn’t made the cut.
But someone had gotten hired then, and now they were being assigned to this bank where he worked. The bitterness of it stung.
‘Focus on your own work.’
He went to the restroom, wrung out the cleaning cloth thoroughly, and hung it to dry where customers wouldn’t see it.
Returning to the main floor, he powered on the smart devices and restocked the depleted supplies.
Ten minutes before banking operations began.
“Everyone, your attention, please.”
The Branch Manager emerged, clapping his hands together.
Every eye in the room turned toward him.
“As you all know, we have a new member joining the Samil Branch. Let’s make sure to guide them well, and let’s all do our best to deliver strong results. A round of applause, everyone.”
With the introduction complete, the Branch Manager stepped aside.
From beside him, the new employee—whose figure had been obscured until now—stepped forward.
A neat uniform and hands clasped respectfully before her.
A sensible, close-cropped cut that seemed effortless yet refined.
Sharp, elegant features and a gentle voice.
“Starting today, I’ll be working with all of you at the Samil Branch. My name is Lee Yeon-hee. I look forward to working with you.”
……!
The moment he heard her name, his pupils trembled minutely.
The youthful softness he remembered had vanished, replaced by a refined and polished bearing.
But there was no doubt.
‘Wait—could it be Lee Yeon-hee?’

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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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