I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 97

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

Too Much Profitable Talent Episode 97
The song ended, trailing into silence.
A brief pause.
The stage lights dimmed slowly, but the Studio remained suspended in the afterglow of sound.
No one dared speak first.
Breath caught before words could form.
Then.
Clap… clap, clap.
Applause from the Panel of Judges erupted, filling the Studio.
Genuine praise for two singers who had delivered pure emotion.
Main host Kim Woo-jin didn’t miss the moment.
Over five hundred tapings, witnessing countless performances, his experience pointed to one truth.
‘Checkmate. No question about it.’
Checkmate.
A voice that had silently stolen the center of the stage.
One person who had altered the very atmosphere of the program.
By order, they should have started with Flower Girl’s evaluation, but words came slowly.
“Well… I think we all need a moment to collect ourselves before we can really speak to what we just heard. Both of you delivered something unforgettable.”
The Panel across the way nodded in agreement.
Most still couldn’t find their voice.
“Let’s hear the Panel’s thoughts on Flower Girl. What did you make of that performance?”
Cha Tae-ho was the first to reach for the microphone.
“It was clean. Your tone was pure, your High Notes effortless. Definitely has that idol quality to it.”
On the surface, praise.
But listen closely, and it was remarkably formal evaluation.
Not the kind of emotion that wells from deep in the chest, but words read straight from a script.
“Your High Notes were especially charming. Like the sound was floating above your head, you know? I’d really love to hear more of your work—”
Despite the words, Shin Jung-a, who came from comedy, felt something off.
She hadn’t received any hint from Han Gyeong-il, but intuition was its own language.
Flower Girl was clearly the production team’s pick.
She could see the push.
Her singing wasn’t bad.
With decent luck, she could make a real run at the Champion’s Finals—solid talent, nothing to dismiss.
But.
‘The other one sang too well.’
It didn’t sit right.
Skill like that couldn’t be hidden, not truly.
Why would the producers book such a pairing?
“You really did sing beautifully. You have the bearing of someone with real stage experience, you know? Solid, unshaken, with a clear sense of yourself.”
More praise for Flower Girl followed, filling the broadcast time.
But there was no real soul in it.
Checkmate’s performance had been simply overwhelming.
Only.
Out of courtesy to a fellow performer.
Then the guest panelist, the legendary Shin Jae-ho, picked up the microphone for the first time.
A living legend of Korean rock.
A master still walking the earth.
A virtuoso blessed with a Bass Voice that scraped the heart, High Notes that tore the soul.
“Your voice is much improved from that variety show appearance three years ago.”
Praise from an unexpected quarter.
Flower Girl’s visible surprise flickered across her face.
“Wait—are you saying you’ve already figured out who Flower Girl is?”
At the host Kim Woo-jin’s question, Shin Jae-ho nodded quietly.
The other panelists chimed in—come on, just whisper it to us—but Shin Jae-ho offered nothing.
“But that’s all I have to say. In your effort to win, your emotional expression fell short.”
A brief remark, but one that struck true.
Then he quietly set down the microphone.
Brief silence.
Host Kim Woo-jin moved quickly to shift the mood.
“Now let’s hear the Panel’s evaluation of our Checkmate, shall we?”
As if she’d been waiting for this moment, panel judge Yoon Jin-seok seized the microphone.
Then he opened his mouth with blunt directness.
“Who are you? What do you do?”
“Me? I’m sorry?”
Host Kim Woo-jin received the question in confusion.
Laughter erupted from the audience.
Panel judge Yoon Jin-seok made a gesture of grasping a chess piece and pointed to Checkmate.
“Just the first phrase. A single sentence.”
He closed his eyes once, then drew a long breath and continued.
“Creating resonance with bass voice—it’s genuinely difficult. But…… you pulled it off.”
High praise from panel judge Yoon Jin-seok, known for his stingy compliments.
He set the microphone down as if there was nothing more to say.
At his words, the other judges nodded as well.
The next to take the microphone was Cha Tae-ho, a broadcaster with a background as a music producer.
“Checkmate.”
On stage, Checkmate lifted their head and met their gaze.
Behind the mask, In-ha’s eyes glimmered softly.
“What have you done to me?”
His tone was accusatory.
But soon a smile spread across his lips.
“I’m extremely T-type, you see? Both in personality and at work, logic and analysis always come first. But…… I nearly got emotional.”
Cha Tae-ho, as sparing with praise as Yoon Jin-seok.
A meme had even circulated calling him a master of false compliments.
Yet here he was, offering enthusiastic praise.
Given how long the show had run, the common assessment was that all the talent worth showcasing had already appeared.
The judges’ repertoire of compliments was nearly exhausted.
And yet.
Today, for the first time in ages, sincere evaluations followed one after another.
Next, Shin Jung-a, a comedian by trade, picked up the microphone.
“……I’m certain of it. Checkmate is a singer. You’re a singer, aren’t you?”
In-ha, receiving the question, tilted their head and gave a slight shrug.
The expression of someone who had no idea.
Then Shin Jung-a spoke again.
“No matter how much you hide it, it can’t be hidden. The stage knows, and the ear knows.”
Finally, all the judges’ attention turned to Shin Jae-ho.
He quietly picked up the microphone.
After drawing a breath, he spoke briefly and concisely.
“……As I listened, I was never curious about who you are. I just wanted to keep listening to your song.”
His words weren’t long, but no further explanation was needed.
A single statement from South Korea’s most representative vocalist.
Because he was someone who never spoke carelessly, no further assessment was necessary.
Not something being performed, but sound with genuine feeling flowing through it.
And so, the gulf between Flower Girl’s and Checkmate’s abilities became all the more stark.
‘Is she joking?’
At that moment.
Behind the mask, Ji-soo clenched her lips hard.
She bowed her head by force, but her hand gripping the microphone trembled.
Even deep breathing wouldn’t calm her.
‘They tore me apart, and they’re lifting her up?’
Heat surged from within her chest.
What kind of day was this.
How much she had prepared for this stage.
Yet in a single moment, reduced to a supporting act.
She tried to compose her expression, but her cheek muscles twitched microscopically.
And all that bitter resentment was directed at one person.
Checkmate.
‘Who exactly are you?’
The existence that had ruined her solo debut stage entirely.
She wanted to rip the mask from that face right then and there.
Just then.
The silence that had settled over the studio broke as panelist Yoon Jin-seok carefully opened his mouth.
“Well, you see, I’m thinking the opponent that Flower Girl faced might have been… a bit weak, perhaps? That’s just the feeling I’m getting.”
The other judges nodded cautiously at Yoon Jin-seok’s assessment.
Who the true protagonist of tonight’s stage had been.
The performance itself had already answered that question.

* * *
I tried to remain composed.
The Masked Singer itself had become controversial many times due to celebrity judges’ cringe-worthy commentary.
So I didn’t pay much weight to their praise.
And yet.
“…I wasn’t curious about your identity the entire time. It was a song I wanted to keep listening to.”
At the legendary Shin Jae-ho’s evaluation, I found myself momentarily flustered.
His song, “For Me,” had been my karaoke number eighteen.
It was still at the top of my smartphone’s playlist.
And now he was praising my rendition of it.
‘…I still can’t quite adjust to this.’
This was the first time I’d used the Talent on such a grand stage, right after acquiring it.
Usually, I’d familiarize myself with it first, confirm it, make adjustments—that always came before anything else.
But today was different.
The stage, the reactions, the emotions.
Everything was too vast, and it all reached me through my skin too quickly.
‘…This feels heavy.’
Now my song would go out over the airwaves.
People would hear it, judge it, and remember it.
It had been the same with baduk, and the same with archery.
I was gradually beginning to grasp that talent came with equal responsibility.
Somehow, it felt like it should be that way.
It seemed the fitting attitude for someone with talent.
“Now let’s see the final results of the vote cast by all ninety-nine judges!”
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
A number appeared on the scoreboard with the sound effect.
Seventy-six to twenty-three.
An overwhelming margin. My victory.
Brief music played, and the host wrapped up the results in his practiced tone.
“And so ‘Checkmate’ has advanced to the next round!”
Applause filled the studio.
I gave a shallow bow toward the judges, then made my way down from the stage.
It was as I was walking that I felt it.
‘…Sharp.’
A gaze from behind my back.
I didn’t need to turn around to sense what kind of look Flower Girl—preparing her elimination song—was directing at me.
Anger.
Resentment.
Feelings like that.
‘…I may not have been considerate, but I’m not sorry.’
I never intended to defeat someone through song from the start.
I didn’t even think I had the talent to win.
But I won anyway.
It was I who stood on that stage.
I left the stage and walked slowly down the corridor.
The residual heat of the performance still hadn’t faded.
By the time I reached the waiting room, my mind had already turned toward the next stage.
‘Round two should be fine. The real problem starts at round three.’
Round two is a solo performance.
I have an elimination song prepared, so there shouldn’t be any major issues there.
But round three is different.
‘…I don’t have a prepared song.’
I’d assumed I’d be eliminated in round one from the beginning.
I never even properly selected candidates for a round three song, let alone prepared one.
Other contestants probably had time to rearrange the song to fit their tone or to layer in emotion.
But right now, I have nothing in my hands.
Time is tight, and space is running thin.
Then.
Knock, knock.
A knock sounded, followed by an urgent voice.
“I’m the assistant director. There’s something I need to discuss urgently—may I come in?”
“Yes, please come in.”
The moment the door opened, the assistant director rushed inside, breathing hard.
The music director followed close behind.
Both their faces bore the weight of time pressure.
“Do you happen to have a song prepared for Round 3?”
“No. I’m still deciding.”
I answered honestly.
There was no point in pretending I had something ready when I didn’t.
The assistant director continued, his face tense.
“Ah… I see. Once you choose a song, we’ll get the MR prepared as quickly as possible.”
“Understood.”
“The rehearsal will be… a basic one with just a sound check, due to time constraints. Will that be all right?”
“That’s fine.”
I hadn’t expected this either, and it wasn’t as though the production team had some secret backup plan.
“How much time should we give you for selecting the song?”
“No need. I’ll decide now.”
I drew in a quiet breath.
More time wouldn’t solve this.
In moments like this, quick decisions are what matter.
“I’ll sing ‘For Me.'”
“…I’m sorry?”
The assistant director and music director both looked up at once.
Surprise flickered across their faces, tinged with apprehension.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“…In front of Shin Jae-ho?”
At that question, I nodded briefly once more.
To be honest, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t nervous about this.
It’s such a famous song, and the difficulty is high.
I’ve heard that many singers avoid covering it altogether.
And on top of that, the original artist is sitting right in front of me.
But.
‘I don’t have another choice.’
Whether he’s a legend or sitting here now doesn’t matter.
The song I’ve sung most often.
The song I’ve poured the most emotion into.
The song I’ve sung alone longer than any other, with more sincerity than anyone else could.
So this was my best choice, and the only choice that made sense.
I spoke once more, with conviction.
“For Round 3, I’m going with ‘For Me.'”

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