I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 99

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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 Much Talent to Ignore — Episode 99
“Checkmate has advanced to the next round!”
79 to 20.
An overwhelming margin.
I bowed toward the Judging Panel, and descended from the stage amid applause.
In that moment, the sound director approached as if he’d been waiting.
“I’ve prepared the MR. Once you confirm it, we’ll set up the brief rehearsal right away.”
“Yes, thank you.”
I nodded quietly.
Meanwhile, on stage, the identity of Record Boy was being revealed.
Musical actor Ahn Hyung-jun.
Honestly, I had no idea who he was.
From the expressions on the celebrity panel’s faces, they seemed equally lost.
The lay judges too looked unfamiliar with the name.
Awkward applause rippled through the room.
‘I could end up like that too.’
I’m also a stranger to the general public.
Even with some buzz, I haven’t yet bridged all ages and demographics.
That’s why I have to change things.
The very perception itself.
Through this stage, I need to become a name people simply cannot forget.
That’s why I’m standing here now.
My gaze shifted toward the stage, to the podium beyond.
245-time King Antic Boss.
Intense presence.
A singer with a solid, resonant voice.
‘One song will decide it.’
The next stage isn’t merely another round.
If I win, it leads directly to a King match.
In other words, this single song could determine whether Netflix picks up the variety show — no exaggeration.
‘I’ll give it everything.’
That’s the Talent I chose for this.
I followed the sound director and put on the professional monitoring headset.
Outside noise was blocked out. The MR for “For Me” flowed through.
I hummed along, layering my voice over it.
‘…Stay as close to the original as possible, rather than rearranging.’
What I need to focus on now is the phrasing of the lyrics.
Like I’m speaking.
Not ignoring pitch, but as if I’m murmuring to myself.
I need to deliver genuine emotion.
Because this song prioritizes sincerity and appeal over technique.
‘Just at the very end, let me add a slight variation to the final passage.’
This seemed reasonable enough.
And such a subtle difference might just tip the scales.
After all, this is a competition.
Meanwhile, recording halted briefly.
Break time.
Following the production assistant’s guidance, the Judging Panel stretched and filed out of the Studio.
In that instant.
The assistant director’s urgent voice rang out.
“Checkmate, we’re starting the brief rehearsal!”

* * *
The legendary Shin Jae-ho.
He rarely appeared on broadcasts.
Having grown older and more flexible with time, it was only to this degree.
In his youth, he was a headstrong obsessive — devoted entirely to music.
And that essence hadn’t changed even now.
He had simply made peace with reality.
“…My body? Yeah. I’ll head out right after we wrap. I’m resting.”
His wife’s voice came through the phone, faint and thin.
Shin Jae-ho’s expression clouded over.
Her hospital visits had grown far more frequent of late.
Thirty years at her side, and he’d been the very thing that made her most alone.
‘I’ll have to cancel the concert.’
Thirty years since his debut this year.
The anniversary album was nearly complete, and a national tour was in the works.
Yet his heart remained tangled.
To go through with the concert felt impossible when his wife’s condition was so precarious.
At times like these, he couldn’t find the courage to leave her side, even for an hour.
Shin Jae-ho sank deep into his chair.
His strength, his emotions—
Everything was edging toward its limit these days.
As he closed his eyes and drew a quiet breath, music seeped into his ears.
A stroke of fortune.
Checkmate’s performance echoed back through his mind once more.
“……It wasn’t bad.”
In truth, Shin Jae-ho had never been particularly fond of The Mask Singer.
He believed that singing was an expression that encompassed face, expression, and even the very air of that moment.
And yet, Checkmate’s stage had been worthwhile.
More than worthwhile, in fact.
The timbre wasn’t extraordinarily unique, but there was resonance in it.
Like those singers of old who’d sought out their own sound directly, trained it directly, and in doing so crafted a living, breathing vocal quality.
Not a vocal manufactured on some factory line, but one that had survived in its own distinctive way.
‘I wonder who it is.’
It had been a very long time.
Since a junior vocalist had caught his eye.
Knock-knock.
A rapping at the door.
“We’re about to begin recording, sir.”
Shin Jae-ho rose quietly from his seat.
As he stepped out of the waiting room and walked down the corridor, someone approached and greeted him.
“Hello, sir. I’m Yo-seop, main vocalist of Monster.”
From what he’d heard, this was a junior colleague who’d recently joined the Judging Panel of The Mask Singer as a permanent fixture, bringing in fresh blood.
Noting his courteous manner, Shin Jae-ho moved toward him lightly—and in that instant.
“Yes, pleased to—”
A sharp reek hit his nostrils.
‘……Cigarettes?’
Shin Jae-ho’s face twisted.
Cigarettes weren’t inherently wrong, of course.
But a vocalist who smoked enough to have it soak into his very being—that was something else entirely.
It only damaged the throat.
Without a word, he turned his head away and moved quietly toward the studio.
As he took his seat, a staff member approached and fitted him with a microphone.
Just then, whispers from the seat beside him.
“You heard? Checkmate doesn’t have a song prepared.”
“Really?”
“Apparently the production team didn’t think he’d make it this far, so they never had a backup song ready?”
“……How is that even possible? With his level of skill?”
Shin Jae-ho’s eyebrows twitched.
‘No song prepared?’
Even for a variety show, this was unacceptable.
The production team’s incompetence.
Checkmate’s irresponsibility.
Either way, it was unprofessional.
He shook his head and settled into his chair.
‘How disappointing.’
The faint goodwill he’d harbored toward Checkmate vanished in an instant.
“Right, I heard Checkmate’s next song is that one.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The two of them stole a glance at Shin Jae-ho.
Though he felt their gaze, Shin Jae-ho said nothing and kept his lips sealed.
A moment passed.
The recording cue dropped, and the stage lights blazed to life.
Host Kim Woo-jin stepped to the center of the stage.
“Next, we’ll be moving into Round 3. So, who dares to challenge the King? Let’s begin with the first performance.”
The lights dimmed again.
A brief silence.
Then, as the stage lit up once more, Checkmate stood waiting there.
Ding, ting-a-ling.
Through that brief pause, the intro began to flow.
Soft, muted piano notes.
An impossibly famous classic song.
Just from the intro alone, the celebrity judges leapt from their chairs.
“Wait, wait? This song!?”
“…No way, seriously? You’re not serious!?”
“Shin Jae-ho is sitting right here, and you’re choosing this piece?”
Every judge’s gaze fixed on Shin Jae-ho.
He remained quiet, though his expression had grown cold and rigid.
‘My song.’
Just from hearing the intro, he knew.
His song—”For Me.”
The first emotion that struck him was bewilderment.
Without any advance notice, right before his eyes, they’d pulled out this song.
‘Did my song seem easy? Or…’
Shin Jae-ho couldn’t shake his disappointment.
If it had been a prepared piece, he might have felt differently—even pleased.
A junior singer showing a stage worth anticipating.
But this situation was not that.
Was it a lack of respect?
Overconfidence?
This didn’t sit right with him.
Even if the song was permitted to anyone, not like this.
Not right in front of him.
An irresponsible improvisation.
That was an insult.
Especially with his most precious song before him.
More than that, “For Me” was no mere hit song.
It was the song that had placed him, a rocker, before the public.
A crystallization of his life, his pain, his choices—everything.
‘…Hm.’
Shin Jae-ho pressed his complex emotions deep down into his chest.
His cold gaze began to shift.
Now it was the eye of a judge.
A merciless stare that would grant no mercy if the standard fell short.
In that moment, Checkmate’s voice poured through the microphone.
-Why did we ever have to drift apart, this bond of ours?
“…!”
The very first phrase.
A resonance spat out as if spoken.
The lingering echo of lyrics recited like rumination.
“Ah…”
“This… what do I do.”
“…I’m getting choked up already.”
The celebrity judges of The Mask Singer had often become objects of ridicule.
Their reactions were too exaggerated, too over the top.
But it couldn’t be helped.
That was simply the role assigned to them within The Mask Singer.
Yet today, something felt subtly different.
There was no sense of him forcing emotion from thin air.
Everyone wore the expression of someone entranced by something.
Within the rising emotion, the chorus of the first verse carries toward the song’s climax.
The most famous passage of this song, sung by countless artists.
—That breathless tremor and wavering eyes were all I had
“……!”
Shin Jae-ho’s lips trembled faintly.
This was an unscheduled performance.
He’d had no expectations.
Yet the sound pouring forth now far exceeded anything he’d anticipated.
The tremor contained within the word “breath.”
The respiration threaded through those wavering eyes.
A cry woven in, yet not forced.
A high note with sorrow deliberately held down.
‘……He knows.’
Shin Jae-ho closed his eyes quietly.
At first he’d tried to watch with a critical eye.
But now, even the knowledge that this was an impromptu stage had vanished from his mind.
He wanted to savor this song in full.
And then came the second verse.
The song’s climax.
The punctuation mark of what this song means to say.
—So I can stand as myself, leave me
That voice did not wail.
It endured.
Like the lie within the lyrics themselves.
Like the heart asking to leave, pretending it can live without you when it cannot.
Instead, even lower.
Even quieter.
Checkmate sang not with a scream, but with restraint.
Even a single swallowed breath became a piercing longing that resonated outward.
What was remarkable was that even so, he maintained the upper register.
‘……He knows how to use his voice.’
The unscheduled stage he’d worried over.
Any regret had vanished long ago.
It might disappoint him as a professional, but a singer speaks through song and proves herself on stage.
Checkmate had done precisely that.
The song ended and the lights slowly dimmed.
Upon the darkened stage.
Everyone fell silent.
No one moved to applaud first.
No one dared to breathe first.
A moment later, the silence enveloping the Studio shattered all at once.
“Wow!”
“That’s really…… what…….”
“This…… this thing here…….”
The celebrity judges uttered only exclamations, none of them able to complete a sentence.
The awe of being at a loss for words was etched plain across their faces.
It was the same for the civilian judges.
A brief, lingering silence.
Whoosh.
Out of it, someone rose quietly from their seat.
Every eye in the Studio turned toward him.
The legend himself, Shin Jae-ho.
The most demanding man, the most exacting of them all.
And Checkmate, who had sung an unprepared song right before him.
Within the heightened tension.
He began to clap quietly.
Clap…… clap clap.
A standing ovation.
Slower than anyone else.
Yet with sincerity deeper than anyone’s.
At that sight, everyone was stunned.
Though he’d appeared on countless competition variety shows, it was the first time the entire audience had risen from their seats to applaud.
They all understood what that applause meant.
As if by promise, every single member of the Studio audience stood up.
Applause that filled the entire Studio, swelling and growing.
A moving performance.
A moment of profound emotion.
A stage worthy of being counted among the finest in The Mask Singer—now in its tenth year—this season.
A single, unified thought rose in the minds of everyone in that space.
The next King of the season might just be Checkmate.

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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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