I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 95

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Too Much Talent That Pays Episode 95
“Director Jung.”
“When we’re alone, just call me Soo-yeon.”
“Soo-yeon.”
I spoke her name slowly.
Warm and affectionate.
Between short breaths, Jung Soo-yeon’s beauty mark stood out all the more distinctly.
“I’m, um… a bit nervous.”
“Nervous?”
“It’s a new challenge, and it’s thrilling, but you said it’d be an entertainment show centered on me. How could my heart not race?”
Jung Soo-yeon, who had been watching me in silence, burst into a soft laugh.
There was more bewilderment in that laugh than surprise.
“…I always knew you were this kind of person. But honestly, you surprise me every time.”
“That’s why you’re working with me, isn’t it?”
“That’s true. Though it’s not quite the direction I originally imagined.”
Her words carried a hint of hidden meaning.
Jung Soo-yeon laughed quietly, and her beauty mark caught the light, gleaming softly.
“By the way, do you speak English?”
“English?”
“Yes. If you’re going to work in Europe or North America, it’s better to be fluent in English. It adds immersion too. I noticed you spoke Chinese pretty well back then.”
“Yes. Well, just… basics, really.”
I evaded the question slightly.
My TOEIC score wasn’t particularly high, and I’d never even taken the TOEFL.
My conversational English barely went beyond the basics.
“…That’s a shame. In-ha, eloquence is one of your greatest strengths, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Our country enforces humility the better you become, but as long as results follow, confident attitudes are called ‘star quality’ here.”
It was a difference in culture.
The West wasn’t a nation steeped in Confucian thought.
Respectful self-expression was actually an advantage.
And the media fawned over that kind of charisma.
Humility wasn’t a virtue there.
‘English…’
It surfaced in my mind again.
The Roulette Ticket.
I had a feeling I shouldn’t keep doing this.
That sense of relying on talent rather than effort.
But then again, if I have it and don’t use it, isn’t that even more foolish?
“If you give me your interview remarks in advance, I’ll have them polished.”
Jung Soo-yeon spoke while examining her iPad.
“Actually, this might be better anyway. If you became fluent in English… well, to be honest, it would worry me for a different reason.”
“…Worry you?”
Her gaze lingered on my face for a moment.
Or more precisely, near my lips.
I tried not to notice, but I felt her eyes on me.
I laughed awkwardly and asked back.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“With that talent, that face, that gift of gab… if you started working in the Western market, I’m afraid you’d run wild.”
“…Run wild? Doing what?”
“Obviously alcohol and women. There’s plenty of temptation in that world.”
I laughed somewhat sheepishly.
To be honest, I couldn’t quite picture it.
I’d never lived that way, and I’d never really imagined living like that either.
I’d always thought of that kind of life as something on the other side of a screen—the lives of famous athletes or entertainers, other people entirely.
“I’ll organize the sponsor list and send it to you soon.”
“All right.”
“Once we finish the programming meetings with the broadcasting station, I’ll share the entertainment details with you right away. It shouldn’t take long. You wouldn’t want to miss the peak of your buzz, would you, In-ha?”
I nodded and looked out the window.
Beyond the glass, vehicles moved busily between gray buildings.
Above them, the afternoon sunlight spilled down gently.
A new challenge.
A new stage.
I steadied my breath quietly and turned toward Jung Soo-yeon.
“I’d love the first shoot to be in a city known for its wine.”
She looked up at me.
I smiled.
“If we skip the champagne to celebrate my first chess tournament win, that’d feel a bit sad, wouldn’t it?”

* * *
Late into the night.
Streetlights stretched in a long line along the road.
The hour creeping toward midnight.
My destination at this hour was the Masked Singer affiliate Vocal Academy.
Despite the lateness, the lights were still on.
‘……They said this was the only time the schedule would allow.’
Next week’s Masked Singer recording broadcast.
My duet partner was a woman.
If practice was only possible at this hour, odds were high she was a celebrity.
A singer or an actress.
‘I wonder who.’
Pure curiosity.
But the Masked Singer keeps participant information strictly confidential.
It’s a hidden rule.
I pulled a cap low and fastened a mask before stepping into the academy.
“Welcome.”
“You’re here?”
Kang In-sung, the trainer, greeted me.
I removed my shoes and headed into the practice room.
“Have you warmed up your voice?”
“Yes, lightly in the car.”
“Then let’s do some scales and jump straight into the song?”
After a brief vocalization warm-up, we dove into the duet piece “When the Years Pass.”
I layered my part over the guide track’s vocals and attempted the harmony.
But.
“……Again.”
Kang In-sung shook his head.
“You followed the partner’s pitch. Harmony isn’t about overlapping—you need to hold your own line.”
“……Right.”
Back to the climax section.
I tried my best to keep my own pitch steady.
But the recorded female vocalist’s emotion kept wrapping around me.
The pitch burrowed in like memory, like nostalgia, shaking my direction.
“Wrong again.”
This time, his voice a touch sharper.
“You have trained in harmony, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I’ve been practicing, but……it’s much harder than I thought.”
“Singing is ultimately in the realm of talent, so there’s only so much we can do. Let’s work with what you’ve got. If it really doesn’t come together, we can drop the harmony and go without it.”
I reluctantly nodded.
Those words struck deep.
A duet without harmony.
A half-solo masquerading as a duet.
‘……Well, I’m basically backing vocals anyway.’
I knew I lacked the talent.
And yet, I genuinely wanted to do well.
When things didn’t bend to my will, frustration tightened in my chest.
Repetition after repetition.
As the harmony gradually fell into place, the clock crept toward one in the morning.
An hour past our agreed-upon end time.
‘This is running really late.’
Celebrity or not, shouldn’t basic courtesy demand a word of apology?
But Kang In-sung said nothing at all.
A reaction as if it were only natural, expected.
Then.
Creak!
The entrance door to the practice room swung open.
A woman stepped in alongside a large male manager.
A baseball cap pulled low over her bare face.
A mask larger than her face itself.
And sunglasses thrown on in the middle of the night to boot.
Anyone could see she was screaming, “I’m a celebrity.”
“Sorry for being late.”
The manager bowed respectfully.
But she herself merely glanced at me with a tilt of her head and looked away.
‘……An idol?’
She looked quite young.
At most, early twenties.
The manager led the way, and she didn’t utter a single word.
“Sorry to rush, but could we jump right into rehearsal? Our Flo—I mean, ‘Flower Girl’ has a schedule in the morning.”
“Of course, absolutely.”
Once we moved to the practice room, Kang In-sung started the Music Record.
My part came first.
It went smoothly.
No nerves, just singing as I always did.
Then the second verse followed.
The part for ‘Flower Girl,’ the masked name used on the Masked Singer show.
‘……She’s good.’
Honestly, it was impressive enough to make me catch my breath.
A thin, refined voice.
The high notes sailed effortlessly, and her emotional range was rich.
Though it was a male song, both her volume and expression were solid.
A real vocalist has a distinctly different presence.
Then came the climactic harmony section.
My voice lay underneath in the lower register while Flower Girl soared above.
Singer and amateur.
It was a difference you simply couldn’t overcome.
And from the start, I’d decided to appear precisely to boost my public profile.
When the song ended, the manager spoke as if he’d been waiting for it.
“I think this should be enough, don’t you?”
“Yes. It looks sufficient to me as well.”
The trainer also nodded at those words.
‘That’s it?’
I was the one caught off guard.
I’d adjusted my schedule to match this time, had focused intently through over an hour of practice.
And it ends with just a few lines?
It felt like I’d been dismissed.
“Well, thank you for your effort. We’ll see you on the recording day.”
The manager bowed and turned to leave.
Flower Girl gave me a slight nod.
Her face hidden behind the mask.
Eyes glazed with fatigue.
Yet somehow carrying an air of cool indifference.
The two of them simply turned and walked out through the entrance.
I stood there, stunned, watching their departing figures.
The trainer came up and spoke.
“You worked hard. Go do well at the recording.”
“……Thank you for your time.”
After exchanging formalities, I left the practice room.
I paused for a moment on my way to the outdoor parking lot.
When I turned my head, the lights inside the Vocal Academy were slowly dimming.
The taste in my mouth was bitter.
None of it sat right with me.
Not the way people spoke, their attitudes, the whole atmosphere.
Every last bit of it left a sour taste.
Then it happened.
—Ding!
Light flashed through the air, and a system window materialized.
[Your emotional state influences the system.]
[When you use a Talent Roulette Ticket in the future, there is now a heightened probability that your current emotional state will be reflected in the outcome.]
“……What?”
I went blank for a moment.
The system had always been beyond my control.
But for the first time, it had responded to my emotions of its own accord.
A small breath leaked out.
“What do I do about this.”
I wondered whether I should spend the Roulette Tickets I’d been hoarding on something as unprecedented as this.
It was a restless night of deliberation.

* * *
The day of the Masked Singer recording.
Chaos from the moment I woke.
I visited the exclusive shop my team had arranged and completed styling from head to toe.
To prevent my identity from being exposed, I changed into my stage costume beforehand and traveled to the Broadcasting Station already dressed.
The mask was hot.
The coat was heavy.
The blocking was awkward.
‘This is a hassle, isn’t it.’
The Masked Name and concept I’d chosen were “Checkmate.”
A silver mask shaped after a chess king and knight.
A black long coat.
And the metaphor woven into the word “Checkmate” itself.
I’d chosen this concept to symbolize the path I intended to walk.
As we pulled into the Broadcasting Station Parking Lot, the standby cameras stirred to life.
The moment I stepped out of the car, cameras and lights fastened onto me.
I walked with measured, deliberate steps.
Fitting my concept—taciturn yet commanding presence.
The masked show staff flanked me, making a fuss as they escorted me through.
Total secrecy.
I caught my breath in the Waiting Room for a moment before a knock sounded.
“Checkmate, please proceed to the Studio for rehearsal!”
I stood from my chair and headed straight to the Studio.
I watched the other contestants rehearsing ahead of me, taking in the feel of the place.
Some time later, a staff member guided me onto the darkened stage.
I wasn’t nervous, but the space felt utterly foreign and strange.
Beside me stood an idol wearing the Masked Name “Flower Girl,” microphone in hand.
Han Gyeong-il gave a signal, and the backing track began.
“As Time Passes.”
I sang as I’d practiced.
My pitch wavered slightly at the climax, but nothing too severe.
The harmony came in without a hitch.
The song ended, and the lights went out.
A brief silence.
Then Flower Girl spoke first.
“Could you reduce the reverb a bit? It’s echoing too much.”
She paused, then touched her mask slightly as she continued.
“And could we open up the breathing sections more? It’s getting too sweaty inside.”
I stood there, still holding my microphone.
Waiting quietly for Flower Girl to finish her adjustments.
It was a duet, after all, no matter what.
After she’d made her adjustments, Han Gyeong-il’s instruction finally came down.
“You can go now, Flower Girl. Checkmate, please prepare for the elimination song rehearsal.”
‘……What? Just me?’
I turned my head sharply.
Flower Girl was making her way to the Waiting Room without a word.
I couldn’t make sense of it.
The teams before me—both contestants had done rehearsals for their elimination songs. So why was I alone?
Behind the mask, I narrowed my eyes.
‘……Doesn’t take a genius to figure out I’ve been eliminated.’
I’d expected it, but being treated like an outcast so openly left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Something drained from me, and in that hollow space, anger crept in.
Still.
I finished the elimination song rehearsal to the end and made my way back to the Waiting Room.
I was removing my mask and taking a sip of water, steadying my breath, when my phone rang.
It was Jung Soo-yeon.
-It’s me. Can you talk for a moment?
“Yes, that’s fine.”
-I have two pieces of news…… Would you rather hear the good news first, or the bad news?
Her voice was more cautious than usual.
“The bad news first.”
-……The chess variety show we were pushing—all the broadcasting networks turned it down. They said your domestic recognition still isn’t quite strong enough to position you as the top draw for entertainment programming. On top of that, chess as a sport is pretty niche, so they were hesitant about it.
“I see……”
It wasn’t unexpected, but hearing it out loud still stung.
“What about the good news?”
-Netflix has shown interest.
My eyes widened at that.
The world’s largest online streaming platform.
Operating in over 150 countries,
driving global success with countless original productions—that Netflix?
-Apparently, a chess drama produced by Netflix recently became a major hit overseas. It won a Golden Globe, too. It seems they found the concept—’a professional baduk player takes on chess’—quite intriguing because of that.
A faint glimmer of hope stirred in my chest.
But her voice dropped again.
-……There is one catch, though.
“What is it?”
-Your level of recognition within South Korea.
There it was—that issue again.
-Netflix understands that ‘what’s Korean becomes global,’ but…… at the initial stage, they still want some guarantee of ‘domestic buzz.’ That way the early response picks up momentum, and it’s easier to expand globally.
I drew in a quiet breath.
Then I lifted my head and asked carefully.
“……Wait. You said domestic buzz, right?”
-Yes.
In that instant, one clear method flashed across my mind.
My heart beat quietly, yet firmly.
“Then, that domestic buzz……”
I drew in a short breath.
And pressing down hard on my feelings, I spoke.
“What if I became the King of Masked Singer?”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————