I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 92

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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 92
Kim Ji-woo.
A legend in Korean women’s Compound Archery.
World Championship gold medal in the women’s individual event.
World Championship bronze medal in the women’s team event.
Though retired now, she had once stood among the world’s finest archers.
But the domestic reality was different.
As a Non-Olympic Event, few people knew her name.
Even a World Championship gold medal—second in prestige only to the Olympics—had slipped past the public’s notice.
‘……It had to become an official Olympic sport.’
Her long-held dream.
And finally, that dream had come true.
Next year’s Olympics: Compound individual and mixed-team events.
Two medals on the line.
An opportunity at last for the public’s gaze, fixed for decades on Recurve Archery alone, to turn this way.
In that sense, today’s scene felt profoundly symbolic.
“Another X-Ten! Six consecutive X-Tens for Kim In-ha!”
The male commentator couldn’t hide his excitement.
The broadcast zoomed in on the arrow, its point piercing the exact center of the target.
Kim Ji-woo drew a slow, measured breath.
“……I’ve never seen someone land an X-Ten like that in this kind of wind.”
“Is that impressive?”
“Yes. The Jumong International Archery Range has fierce, unpredictable winds at this time of year. It was the one place I dreaded most as a competitor. But here…….”
The camera panned back to Kim In-ha on the shooting line.
On the line: steady breathing.
Release.
Thwap!
“……Another perfect ten.”
The male commentator fell silent.
Kim Ji-woo nodded quietly.
“His composure is frightening. Consecutive perfect tens, more than half of them X-Tens. This is…… a record you don’t often see even in men’s Compound Archery.”
Recurve and Compound.
Both disciplines use targets with the same 12.2-millimeter diameter ring.
Yet Compound demands even greater precision.
Specifically: the number of X-Tens.
In Recurve, they break ties. In Compound, they decide rank outright.
Thwap!
“Another perfect ten.”
This time, not an X-Ten.
But he had never once dropped below a perfect ten.
Total: 150 points.
His opponent: 147 points.
“Kim In-ha advances to the tournament final. An almost flawless performance.”
Round of 16.
Quarterfinals.
Semifinals.
All three opponents possessed the skill to have become National Team members without question.
Yet they all fell to Kim In-ha.
“Kim Ji-woo, what’s your take on Kim In-ha’s performance today?”
“It’s…… beyond words, truly. The thing is, among National Team–caliber archers, the skill gap is razor-thin. A match turns on fine adjustments, split-second judgment. But…….”
She paused.
‘He doesn’t waver.’
Kim Ji-woo watched Kim In-ha’s line quietly.
Just before release.
A slight gust catching his stance.
But Kim In-ha never looked through his scope.
Instead, he held his breath and drew the bow in silence.
Thwap!
The X-Ten buried itself, as always, in the target’s center.
“Today, Kim In-ha is…… simply overwhelming. I can’t shake the feeling that even against world-ranked competitors from India or America, he wouldn’t lose.”
That was no exaggeration.
Not a single Korean archer ranked in the world’s top twenty.
Unlike Recurve Archery, in Compound Archery, Korea still occupied a peripheral position.
But today, Kim In-ha’s arrows were flawless.
Perfect shots with not a single mistake.
It wasn’t merely skill—it was the dominion of mind over matter.
“And Kim In-ha opens the finals with an X-Ten right from the first arrow!”
The male commentator let out a gasp of admiration.
His opponent in the finals was Lee Cheong-myeong.
Last year’s national representative.
Currently ranked fourth.
His resolve stepping into this match was singular.
Because everything could change on the strength of this one competition.
Win, and he became an official national representative.
Lose, and he remained a reserve.
“……Eight X-Tens in a row! The momentum shows no signs of breaking!”
Kim Ji-woo felt goosebumps rise on her forearms.
‘This is insane.’
Lee Cheong-myeong was an excellent archer.
Otherwise, he would never have earned the right to wear the Taegeuk Mark.
But in this moment, his opponent was utterly overwhelming.
Headwinds.
Crosswinds.
Even as the air currents shifted with every second, Kim In-ha remained unmoved.
A single word surfaced in Kim Ji-woo’s mind.
‘Ferocity.’
Someone who has tasted first place.
And someone who regards it as nothing less than their due.
It had been the same with Kim In-ha on the Go Board.
‘The Undefeated Knight.’
One of the many titles that had defined him.
Somehow, the image overlapped.
Though Go and Archery were entirely different disciplines.
Yet she couldn’t shake the certainty—this man would not lose.
“Consecutive X-Tens.”
The male commentator trailed off, exhaling wonder.
Kim Ji-woo drew in a slow, measured breath.
And when she spoke, her eyes gleamed with certainty.
“……If Kim In-ha becomes a national representative, he’ll truly astonish the world.”

* * *
I can feel it.
Lee Cheong-myeong’s anxiety from the shooting line.
I sense him pouring every ounce of focus into catching up to my lead.
I smiled quietly to myself.
‘……I’m not being chased. I’m leading.’
In competition, both the pursuer and the pursued feel pressure.
But I remained steady.
No, there was no reason to waver.
Archery is a Static Competition.
Self-transcendence.
In that sense, it’s simpler than Go.
There’s no need to calculate the opponent’s moves.
No variables exist.
‘I just need to trust my senses.’
I cleared away all unnecessary thoughts.
I felt only the grain of the wind, the tension at my fingertips, the weight distribution of my body.
‘The final shot.’
Only me and the target.
Precise alignment.
Reading the wind as data.
And trusting, at the last moment, the feel at my fingertips.
Thwack!
The arrow tore through the air and buried itself in the target.
“……X-Ten.”
Behind me, the judge’s voice rang out, tinged with shock.
150 points.
Out of 15 arrows, 13 X-Tens.
I glanced sidelong at the adjacent shooting station.
Lee Cheong-myeong released his bowstring with an expressionless face.
Breath-stealing focus.
The perfect shot.
Thud!
149 points.
He fired one final X-Ten to chase me down, but in the end, he couldn’t surpass my score.
“Ah…….”
His head dropped slightly.
More precisely, he was swallowing his emotion.
He bit his lip once, then lifted his gaze.
A slight bow.
I bowed in return, formal and respectful.
A courtesy gesture.
Whatever he thought of me had nothing to do with my reckoning.
Lee Cheong-myeong acknowledged with a nod, then quietly gathered his equipment.
‘That seals it. First place is mine.’
My chest swelled with satisfaction.
Three days of Compound Archery National Team Selection Tournament.
A total of 48 points on the line.
By clinching first place regardless of the final tally, I’d earned the right to wear the Taegeuk Mark on my chest.
In that very instant.
—Ding!
A System Message appeared.
[Congratulations. You have been selected as a National Team Representative in Compound Archery.]
[You are now the second civilian athlete to become a National Team Representative in Compound Archery.]
[You have qualified for the Summer Olympics.]
[Congratulations. You have been awarded a Gold Roulette Ticket.]
[Congratulations. You have been awarded a Talent Expansion Ticket.]
‘Wait—a Talent Expansion Ticket?’
Another message scrolled across my vision.
I couldn’t look away.
[Currently, you possess 6 Talents: Archery (S), Go (A+), Korean Cuisine (B), Chinese Language (B), Shogi (C+), Chess (C+).]
[Currently, you may possess a maximum of 6 Talents.]
[Using a Talent Expansion Ticket increases your maximum Talent capacity by +1.]
I had no idea.
I’d never even imagined that Talents had a slot limit.
That meant every time I’d wanted to spin the roulette, I couldn’t—not because I lacked the means, but because I’d hit a hard cap.
‘……Timing couldn’t be better.’
I exhaled quietly, relief washing through me.
There was still time before next year’s Olympics.
Winter base-camp training was scheduled in the interim, but I wouldn’t be making full use of my Archery Talent until spring arrived.
Winter weather itself was simply too hostile for shooting a bow.
Which meant, for now, I’d have to live again as Kim In-ha, the professional Go player.
But that limitation sat with me as a genuine loss.
‘I need a Talent to bridge the gap.’
Whether Go or Archery, my stage had grown beyond what it was.
I wanted to expand my reach not just domestically, but internationally—especially into North America and Europe.
The first thing that came to mind was Chess.
It was only C+ grade, but I had a Talent Enhancement Ticket on hand, so the potential was absolutely there.
And there was one more thing.
A mainstream Talent that could elevate my domestic profile.
Go and Archery were too niche.
What I needed now was a Talent that everyone could relate to, something that would spark conversation.
And as luck would have it, I’d just been given a Talent Expansion Ticket.
The timing couldn’t have been better.
“Kim In-ha, we’ll need you to verify the final score sheet.”
At the referee’s voice, I lifted my head.
I’d sort through my thoughts later.
I checked the score sheet, walked to the target to retrieve my arrows, and made my way back.
Passing by the booth to confirm the final standings, I turned to leave in good spirits when—
……
Athletes hung their heads low or wept in their coaches’ arms.
Those who hadn’t made the cut.
Unfortunate as it was, whenever someone became a national representative, it meant someone else didn’t.
I looked away and walked quietly toward the photo wall.
Dozens of reporters were already waiting there.
“We’ll bring Kim In-ha to the stage now.”
The announcer’s voice echoed through the venue.
Camera flashes erupted without pause, and a live broadcast microphone was placed in front of me.
“You’ve secured first place in the second qualifying round and earned the Taegeuk Mark. How do you feel?”
I took a short breath and spoke carefully, each word deliberate.
“I’ll make sure Compound Archery is included in Korean Archery, already called the world’s strongest.”
A brief silence.
Then the reporters’ hands moved busily.
“We never expected this. An undefeated player excelling not just in Go but in Compound Archery too. Is this the difference that Talent makes?”
A difficult question for me.
I couldn’t speak the truth.
But I didn’t want the players who’d trained so hard to be reduced to a single word—Talent.
“……Talent is merely the key that opens a door. Today, my arrows simply found their mark more accurately than the others’.”
Yes, only today.
On another day, the result might have been different—a touch of humility and respect.
“You’ve qualified for the Olympics. Is your goal the gold medal?”
“Yes. I didn’t become a national representative just to take a vacation.”
I turned my gaze straight ahead.
“I’ll challenge, I’ll succeed, and I’ll bring home the medal. The way I always have.”
A slow smile crossed my face.
The quiet, confident expression only someone certain of themselves could wear.
I added my final words.
“Victory is my profession.”
In that instant, the quiet venue erupted once more with the sound of shutters.
The answer the reporters had been waiting for.
And.
The absolute truth of my heart, without a lie.

* * *
Hilton Hotel.
After parking, I slipped on my dress shoes and straightened my clothes.
A tailored suit.
The silhouette fit my noticeably improved physique perfectly.
I’d stopped by a salon early to have my hair trimmed neatly.
The elevator carried me up to the ground floor lobby.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long stretch of gold velvet rope marking the pathway.
A signboard printed in elegant typeface hung from a stand.
-Korean Baduk Awards Ceremony-
A gathering to honor professional Go players who’d shown outstanding achievements throughout the year.
An event introducing next year’s official sponsors.
And for me.
‘……the day I receive my System reward.’

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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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