I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 91

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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 Profitable Talents — Episode 91
Kang Jae-young.
Forty years old.
The patriarch of compound archery.
A living legend of the national Compound team.
South Korea’s first Compound medalist at the Asian Games—bronze.
But after that, he’d produced nothing of note on the international stage.
Age was part of it. So was the reality of a discipline overshadowed by Recurve.
‘……This is new.’
A preliminary round—not even an international competition—had never drawn so many reporters and spectators.
Compound archery was trending in search results, and the live viewership numbers kept climbing.
And at the center of it all was one man.
‘A professional baduk player…… Kim In-ha.’
Kang Jae-young’s gaze passed quietly over him.
A man whose image was that of a baduk master far more than a compound archer.
Yet he couldn’t be dismissed as easy prey.
First place overall in the 1st Preliminary Round.
Overwhelming scores. The most X-Ten hits to boot.
A record Kang Jae-young himself hadn’t surpassed.
‘……His skill is genuine.’
Compound archery is a discipline where raw ability can carry you to the top.
Even the junior who’d taken a medal in the mixed team event was an ordinary civilian.
There was no absolute advantage to seniority.
Standing at the same shooting line as Kim In-ha, Kang Jae-young checked the flag above the target.
Cross-wind.
Gusts.
Intermittent headwind.
These were no easy conditions.
‘Better than the sea breeze at Namhae.’
Kang Jae-young was a veteran who’d weathered dozens of international stages.
Having endured extreme training, he trusted himself today as always and drew the bowstring.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Three consecutive tens.
No X-Ten, but given the wind’s irregularity, the result was thoroughly satisfying.
Kang Jae-young lowered his bow.
He walked with the judge toward the target.
From the 2nd Preliminary Round onward, the archer personally verifies the target and retrieves their arrows after each end.
A hundred meters round trip.
No short distance.
Since it could affect not just physical stamina but also concentration, he managed this stretch like any other routine.
Reaching his target, he first checked the arrow placement.
‘Drifted left a bit. I’ll adjust the settings slightly.’
He pulled an arrow, and as he turned his head absently, his gaze landed on Kim In-ha’s target right beside his.
‘……Wait. Surely not?’
Three arrows were lodged in Kim In-ha’s target.
But something was off.
Not three separate arrows spread apart, but two superimposed in the center X-Ten zone.
And the third……
It had split the shaft of the arrow already struck there, driving itself straight through.
One arrow severed in half, the second arrow embedded within the broken shaft.
‘……A Robin Hood Shot in this wind?’
Kang Jae-young was momentarily speechless.
Arrow-splitting itself wasn’t rare.
It happened fairly often in compound archery.
But not in wind like this.
If he could’ve avoided it, he’d have waited longer and aimed for a better release window.
Such accuracy in such conditions couldn’t be explained as chance.
He drew a quiet breath and turned back to the shooting line.
Sticking to his routine mattered more than letting his mind wander.
‘Don’t dwell on it. Aim for high scores, not X-Tens. That’s the smart play.’
Second End.
Erratic wind.
But he remained unmoved.
Ten points. Ten points. X-Ten.
‘Next.’
Third and Fourth Ends—perfect scores both.
His pace was solid, no doubt about it.
And then the final Fifth End.
Two perfect tens in the face of howling wind.
Bang!
The last arrow, pushed slightly off.
Drifted just outside the ring—nine points.
Total: 1481 points.
‘That’s top-tier scoring.’
Kang Jae-young lowered his bow and instinctively glanced at Kim In-ha’s target.
A moment later, the scoreboard beneath the target changed.
150 points.
All fifteen arrows—perfect tens.
The last three: X-Tens, every one.
Kang Jae-young swallowed hard in silence.
‘……This isn’t a joke.’
It was a first.
In over a decade wearing the Taegeuk Mark,
before he could blame himself, he found himself hoping someone wouldn’t shoot better.

* * *
Compound National Team 2nd Preliminary Round, Day Two.
Fifth and final rotation.
Fifth End, third arrow—I drew the bowstring.
‘Focus.’
I inhaled, then slowly released my breath in a measured rhythm.
It had been a long day.
Fatigue accumulated since Day One was wearing on both body and mind, layering pressure at a critical moment.
In times like this, the answer was to return to basics.
I steadied my breathing again and adjusted my stance.
Center myself. Hold firm.
The sight picture slides into view.
Trembling, barely perceptible.
But my senses have it under control.
‘Now.’
Release.
Bang!
The arrow leaves the string with a sharp crack, cutting through the air.
The broadhead pierces the wind’s resistance and drives straight into the center.
I don’t need to look—my body already knows.
‘X-Ten.’
I lowered my bow.
The final score was marked on the scorecard as the referee’s whistle announced the end of competition.
I gathered my equipment and walked back to the booth.
A large posted sheet displayed the results and rankings.
<Compound National Team 2nd Preliminary Round Day Two Results>
1st Place Kim In-ha – 1481 points, X-Tens: 71, Ranking Score: 24 points
2nd Place Lee Gyeong-woo – 1475 points, X-Tens: 58, Ranking Score: 23 points
3rd Place Kang Jae-young – 1474 points, X-Tens: 62, Ranking Score: 22 points
.
.
‘Good.’
I’d topped the standings across the recorded rounds of Days One and Two with the highest ranking score.
But I couldn’t afford complacency.
Tomorrow’s tournament bracket on Day Three—that one carries a ranking score of 24 points on the line.
‘……The Korean Archery Association’s system really is sophisticated.’
Truly sophisticated.
They recognized that simple qualifying rounds alone lacked the power to differentiate, so they designed the tournament scoring system to evaluate real-match concentration as well.
Perhaps it’s thanks to this meticulous structure that Korean archery maintains its dominance worldwide.
I gathered my equipment and left the stadium.
Outside was quiet.
Not a single reporter was in sight.
‘I told them not to come.’
I’d given advance notice that I wouldn’t do any interviews today.
Everyone understood, and no one pressed the issue.
I arrived at a nearby hotel as the sun began to set.
I took the elevator quietly and entered my room.
Familiar silence greeted me.
I started with light stretching.
After a shower, I did some simple Resistance Band exercises in the room.
After showering, light core work with the Resistance Band,
and then I surrendered myself to the pool in the Hotel Fitness Room.
I wanted to ease any muscle tension I could.
‘……I never thought I’d end up managing all this.’
I used to think all I needed was to shoot well.
But that wasn’t true anymore.
Sleep, breathing, stretching, meals, hydration, wake time—
all of it determined my score on the target.
‘Talent alone isn’t enough. To win all the way, systematic management is essential.’
On my way to the restaurant for a light dinner,
I stepped out of the elevator and passed through the lobby.
“Um… you’re Kim In-ha, aren’t you?”
I turned, and two familiar faces stood there.
A young male and female archer I remembered seeing at the Compound Archery Stadium.
The awkwardly standing pair fumbled as they held out a piece of paper.
“Would you… mind signing something for us?”
I nodded with a smile.
“Of course. Should we take a photo too?”
“…Yes? Yes!”
I signed the paper and stood warmly beside them for a photo.
Just as they said their thanks and I was turning back in good spirits—
A sharp intake of breath.
The two archers froze.
Their eyes had met someone standing by a vending machine across the lobby.
‘Lee Cheong-myeong?’
Currently ranked fifth in the Preliminary Round overall standings.
Former National Team member in Compound Archery last year.
He was likely attached to Younghung City Hall, like the younger archers.
I felt his gaze from across the room.
His expression was blank.
But his eyes held something.
Clear vigilance.
Or rather, to be precise—discomfort.
As the younger players picked up on it and moved closer, he said something sharp and disappeared somewhere.
I could see the dejected juniors following him.
‘He must really dislike me.’
He’d have plenty of reasons.
I hadn’t followed any elite track.
I had no achievements or credentials worth acknowledging.
Literally just a stone that rolled in out of nowhere.
And now that stone was running in first place in the Preliminary Round.
There was a high likelihood I’d secure one of the four National Team spots.
And he—he was the fifth, pushed out of that one position.
So he was wary.
So he was uncomfortable.
That’s why he can’t accept it.
But.
‘……I’m not about to give in.’
It would be an insult to all those who’ve endured, drawing their bows through the years.

* * *
Compound Archery National Team 2nd Preliminary Round, Day 3.
Today, the final National Team roster would be decided.
Exactly three spots.
The remaining one slot goes to the Reserve Team.
They’d undergo two weeks of winter training and pre-Olympic conditioning together, followed by final evaluation.
Barring any major variables, the top three would become official National Team members.
‘……Next year brings the Olympics.’
In other words, today’s results would determine everything about the Taegeuk Mark.
I entered the stadium with my gear in hand.
Though the sun hadn’t climbed high yet, dozens of reporters had already staked out their positions.
It was right after articles had spread about my first-place finish in the Day 1 and 2 preliminaries, positioning me as a leading National Team candidate.
Was that the reason?
There were definitely more media personnel swarming around than on the first day.
Suddenly, Jung Soo-yeon’s words came back to me.
From now on, the gazes following me would be less that of a simple athlete, and more as if I were some kind of ‘phenomenon worth talking about.’
I headed toward the photo wall the Association had set up.
Cameras mounted on tripods swiveled toward me in unison, and reporters lined up in rows.
The look in their eyes was unmistakable.
An upset.
A story.
Drama.
They were anticipating the singular event of a former bank security guard—a Professional Baduk Player—rising to the National Team in Compound Archery, an elite sport.
And I was ready to meet their expectations.
The host approached with a microphone.
“Kim In-ha, you’re currently in first place. Could you share a few words about your resolve for today’s competition?”
“……Rather than first place now, I’ll see you again when I’m first place at the end.”
A concise answer.
But the atmosphere inside the stadium grew tense for a moment.
It conveyed that this wasn’t a position reached by mere coincidence or luck.
Perhaps because people could feel the genuine confidence that I was truly ready to claim that spot.
I finished the interview briefly and slipped away from the photo wall.
I completed my equipment check and final setup.
Stabilizer balance at the ends.
Release Aid tension.
Scope brightness and lens angle.
Everything was perfect.
‘From here on, it’s a battle of concentration.’
Today’s tournament was a Double Elimination format.
You could survive through the loser’s bracket, but that would drop your ranking score.
I didn’t want to create unnecessary variables.
This phase where skill alone wasn’t everything.
Mental strength, physical endurance, luck, and split-second instinct—I had to pour everything into it.
The announcement that followed.
“We will now begin the Compound Archery National Team 2nd Preliminary Round. Participants, please take your positions at your designated stations.”
I gathered my gear slowly and made my way to the shooting line.
Before stepping up to the line, I felt someone’s gaze from the corner of my vision.
Lee Cheong-myeong.
The archer from yesterday at the Hotel who’d looked at me with such discomfort.
He was quietly watching me.
His face was expressionless.
But his eyes remained sharp.
Wariness, unease, and the resolve to climb over me without fail.
The desperate hunger for the Taegeuk Mark was laid bare in his gaze.
I met his eyes briefly, then turned away.
‘…This is fun.’
In the past, a gaze like that would have felt like pressure.
I might have reacted with oversensitivity.
But now it’s different.
First place overall across the 1st and 2nd Preliminary Rounds.
I was no longer the one challenging.
Now I stood in the position of receiving challenges.
The fact amused me a little, and at the same time, I rather liked it.
‘Sincerity with sincerity.’
The resolve to stake everything on the Taegeuk Mark.
I meant to meet that resolve head-on.
Because I was just as sincere.

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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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