I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 89

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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 Money-Making Talents — Episode 89
“Do you happen to… sing well?”
“Pardon?”
The question caught me off guard—blunt, unprompted.
Noticing my reaction, Han Gyeong-il laughed sheepishly and elaborated.
“Ah, it’s just—I was wondering if you sing as a hobby, if you enjoy it. The show’s format is a music entertainment program, you see.”
The Masked Singer.
I knew the show well.
A competition program where participants performed behind masks and disguises, pitting voice and stage presence against one another.
Contestant identity—gender, age, profession, celebrity status—remained strictly confidential.
Singers, actors, comedians, athletes, politicians, ordinary people: they’d all appeared, each time sparking headlines.
“I don’t know. I’ve never once heard anyone say I sing well.”
Honest answer.
Passable, at best.
Not tone-deaf, but far from what you’d call “good.”
My best friend Sang-mo, who studied practical music and now works as a vocal trainer, had assessed me—and he’d know.
Average, ordinary.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Han Gyeong-il nodded and smiled at my answer.
“If you don’t mind my asking, do you perform the Life Song on yourself?”
I nodded quietly.
“Just the opening part, really. I hear Rua sings the chorus.”
Rua is a singer with an emotional sensibility that bridges hip-hop and ballad.
Known for her quick wit, she serves as a secondary host and fills the role of singing contestants’ Life Songs in their place.
At that moment, Han Gyeong-il’s eyes shifted slightly.
“Oh, then I think you’d be fine?”
He smiled and pressed on.
“Tone-deaf contestants, people who can’t carry a tune—they don’t even touch the microphone. From our standards, you seem more than adequate.”
“Ah… is that so?”
I laughed awkwardly, and he added:
“Yes. Amateur contestants get professional vocal training, so that helps. And you know— has been pulling solid ratings lately. It’s become quite the talking point.”
He spoke with confidence.
And beneath it all, I felt a strong determination to recruit me.
Han Gyeong-il pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it over carefully.
“This is my card. Would you… happen to have one to give me?”
I hesitated a moment, then withdrew my wallet.
A business card made by the Korea Baduk Association.
—Professional Baduk Player, Korea Baduk Association, Kim In-ha, Nine Dan.
We exchanged cards.
“If it’s not too much trouble, would it be all right if I have one of our writers contact you separately? Not that I’m pressuring you—I’d just like to talk things through.”
“Yes, understood.”
He nodded with a bright smile.
“Thank you so much. Good luck with the recording, and I’ll definitely watch when it airs.”
Han Gyeong-il left with a cheerful goodbye, crossing the hallway.
Left alone, I studied the business card quietly.
‘Me… on The Masked Singer.’
It had always been someone else’s story.
I was the one holding the remote, the one guessing who’d appear next.
But now the stage awaited.
Someone was asking me to stand there.
‘Not a bad idea.’
A different sort of attention than what my name in Baduk commanded—an entirely new audience.
For building the Kim In-ha brand, it was certainly worth considering.
That’s when it happened.
“Kim In-ha!”
A familiar woman came rushing toward me from beyond the gate, breathless.
Short stature, bob cut.
The Junior Writer from .
“I’m so sorry—the meeting ran long. Have you been waiting long?”
“No, not at all.”
I bowed slightly in greeting.
The writer took a breath and spoke.
“You can head right up now. You’ll get your makeup done, and before rehearsal the MCs will want to meet with you. Oh, and you’ll need to run through the harmony with Rua.”
I passed through the gate and began walking slowly behind the writer.
The broadcast station corridor seemed unusually bright under its lights.
Now it was time to go tell my story.

* * *
Inside the studio.
Three people sat on the talk stage under a cascade of lighting.
Ha Ji-hun.
The program’s flagship MC, known for his distinctive warmth and wit that put any guest at ease.
Beside him was Mo-se, the assistant MC—short in stature but commanding the atmosphere with sharp jokes and flawless reactions.
And at the far end sat Rua, the singer-songwriter renowned for her genuine empathy.
“So, today’s our star of The Last Song,” Ha Ji-hun said, gesturing toward me waiting off-camera.
Ha Ji-hun announced with a sweeping gesture.
“The man who blazed across the Baduk world like a comet this year. A miracle amateur who swept the Presidential Cup, the Bi-ryong Championship, the Ciel Bank Cup, and the National Baduk Championship—and most recently took first place in the initial selection for the national team in Archery Compound. The whirlwind himself, Kim In-ha!”
Applause erupted.
I walked forward and bowed briefly.
“Welcome, Kim In-ha. That’s the right way to address you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, please feel free to call me however is comfortable.”
The talk began naturally.
I relaxed and followed the MCs’ lead.
“I heard you have quite an unusual background for a professional Baduk player. You started as a bank security guard, right?”
“Yes. At that time I was playing as an amateur while also working as a contract security guard.”
“That must have been difficult?”
I laughed quietly.
“Getting cursed at by customers was part of the job. Many of them had no reason at all. I couldn’t complain to anyone, just suffered in silence.”
“Oh no. So you dealt with difficult customers too?”
“Yes. That’s when I learned how hard it is to be treated with dignity.”
A brief silence.
Mo-se added a quiet word.
“In that situation, how did you come to play Baduk?”
“It was thanks to my branch manager.”
“……Your branch manager?”
“Yes. He always encouraged me to learn Baduk.”
In my previous entertainment appearances, I hadn’t had the chance to mention the branch manager.
In another broadcast, that part was even edited out.
But he had been a steady supporter of mine.
I didn’t want to leave that out of the story.
“Baduk changed my life.”
I spoke with sincerity.
The three MCs listened gravely and offered warm reactions.
“But how did you get into archery? The sports are so different—I was really surprised,” Ha Ji-hun asked with a smile.
I nodded and answered.
“I wanted to take on a new challenge.”
Mo-se’s eyes widened.
“I heard it’s the Compound discipline. Even within archery, that’s not really that well-known in our country, right?”
“That’s right. It’s still an undeveloped field. At the world championships, our country has only won one medal—a bronze. That’s exactly why I wanted to challenge it.”
“I see. I did hear it’s being added as an official Olympic event next year.”
“Yes. So I’m even more ambitious now.”
Men’s individual.
Mixed team.
Two gold medals hung in the balance.
Mo-se, who had been gauging my reaction, asked carefully.
“Still, when it comes to archery in our country, we’re the world’s strongest, aren’t we? Making the national team must be incredibly difficult.”
“It is. Of course it won’t be easy.”
My words carried not a light laugh, but quiet resolve.
“Wow…… Knowing it’s difficult but challenging anyway. That’s a truly admirable mindset.”

Rua clapped her hands at just the right moment.
Within the warm, convivial atmosphere.
The recording was drawing to a close.
“Finally, could you introduce us to your Life Song for today?”
Ha Ji-hun’s careful and weighty question.
I took a moment to steady my breathing, then spoke slowly.
“……It’s been a year that changed so much for me.”
Words I couldn’t quite bring myself to say aloud.
That what had transformed my life wasn’t innate talent or bleeding effort.
It was talent itself.
I understood that truth better than anyone.
Perhaps because of that.
I never took lightly the weight of those who had labored long in their fields.
I had no reason to belittle or dismiss anyone—no right to, either.
‘……Picking fights was a separate matter, of course.’
There was a time I’d hesitated.
What if I was stealing someone’s place?
What if I was seizing someone else’s opportunity through means that weren’t fair?
But my thinking has changed now.
If my presence gave someone the courage to begin again.
If my story.
This journey.
Could transform someone’s life the way mine—a bank security guard’s life—had been wholly remade.
I wanted it to be, even in some small way, a beacon of hope for whoever had stopped somewhere along the road.
Carrying such unspoken sincerity, I chose my song.
“My Life Song is Butterfly by Loveholics.”
Still holding the microphone, I smiled and added:
“……Few songs fit the word ‘leap’ quite as perfectly as this one does.”
Not everyone is born with wings.
But the moment to fly can come for anyone.
Though my own singing wasn’t enough to convey heartfelt emotion to someone.
As Rua sang most of the duet, that emotion was completed.
And days later.
After “The Last Song” broadcast went on air, the search trends on a revived major portal site.
Kim In-ha.
Archery Compound.
Baduk.
Kuksu.
Butterfly.
Bank security guard.
The search rankings were nearly wallpapered with my story.

* * *
The Masked Singer production meeting.
The scent of coffee drifted subtly over the table where laptops and monitors sat alongside meeting materials.
“Viewership is up, buzz index is rising, and the music charts look good too.”
Head writer Jung Seong-hee flipped through the ratings graph, speaking with clear satisfaction.
The atmosphere overall was upbeat and harmonious.
The Boy with Baby’s Breath.
Thanks to a recent contestant who’d become King of Song, the program had definitely gained momentum.
The Assistant Director chimed in with a smile.
“I think we could push the King of Song storyline a bit further.”
“Agreed. The appearance of soccer player Kim Gyeong-in helped drive viewership too. The ‘White Butterfly’ we’ve slated as a challenger to the current King is getting good reactions.”
Writer Jung Seong-hee nodded, confirming the point.
Then PD Han Gyeong-il, who’d been reading materials the Junior Writer had pulled up, looked down at his notes and raised his head.
“Everyone saw yesterday’s search trends, right?”
Every eye in the conference room turned toward him.
“We did.”
Writer Jung Seong-hee replied first.
“It was all Kim In-ha.”
“Definitely…… she does seem to have the kind of presence that gets people talking.”
The Assistant Director nodded in agreement.
Then came a pause.
Han Gyeong-il spoke, breaking the silence.
“We should reach out to her, shouldn’t we?”
“Absolutely.”
Jung Seong-hee gave a firm nod, as if she’d been waiting for this moment.
The Junior Writer, likewise poised, pulled up a video on her laptop.
Kim In-ha’s Life Song, which he’d introduced himself on The Last Song.
Loveholics’ “Butterfly.”
On stage, Kim In-ha had the microphone, singing the first verse.
There was no great emotion or resonance.
The pitch, tempo, rhythm—all mediocre at best.
Just barely passable.
“What do you think?”
Jung Seong-hee asked.
“…… He wouldn’t survive the second round even if we beat him into shape. If we polish it up, he might just scrape through the first round.”
The Assistant Director spoke flatly.
“I agree.”
Han Gyeong-il nodded as well.
Jung Seong-hee tapped the table with her pen as she spoke.
“This feels like the peak of his momentum…… let’s grab him before the hype dies down.”
Just then, the Assistant Director ventured carefully.
“Um, senior. What if—and I mean, what if—Kim In-ha becomes a national representative archer? Wouldn’t it be better to bring him in then? There’s the Olympic season too.”
Han Gyeong-il let out a small laugh and shot back.
“Come on. Even so, this is Korean Archery Compound we’re talking about. You think an amateur can become a national representative? Does Korean Archery Compound look easy to you?”
“Well…… I suppose not…….”
The Assistant Director, chastened, let his words trail off and bowed his head.
Deep down, he knew it too.
A professional Baduk player becoming a national representative archer.
By any reasonable measure, it was next to impossible.
And yet somehow, for just a moment—just a brief moment—he’d thought it might actually be possible.
Jung Seong-hee settled it decisively.
“Senior, don’t drag this out. Let’s go now. If we wait too long, we’re the only ones who lose.”
Han Gyeong-il nodded and brought the meeting to a close.
“Fine. Let’s push forward with reaching out to Kim In-ha.”

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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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