Chapter 23
Chapter 23
[Do you want to choose? Yes or No]
Without realizing it, I held my breath.
‘…Stop achievement farming?’
Until now, the system had always pushed me forward with the condition of “maintaining your main job.”
But this time.
It was different.
‘Permanent maintenance is possible?’
That meant.
Even if I lost my main job, my talents wouldn’t disappear.
But it wasn’t perfect.
A note said that some talent grades could be downgraded upon selection.
[Owned Talent: Go(A)]
It meant that my A-grade Go could drop to B or C.
The probability of losing skill was high.
And.
There was one more line added that bothered me.
‘Gold Roulette Ticket?’
When I first acquired the talent “Go.”
I had spun a Diamond Roulette Ticket.
It guaranteed at least an A-grade.
From the start, it was basically the top grade.
But now.
It was “Gold,” possibly one or even two grades lower.
Instead of familiar excitement, it carried a subtle sense of accepting a loss.
‘This is… almost a penalty.’
Calculation came first, and emotion followed.
It felt like the system was mockingly asking, “Do you want to take this and fall?”
One corner of my mouth twitched.
Not even a tempting offer.
This wasn’t a reward—it was closer to giving and then taking away.
‘I don’t need it if I can’t get it.’
The decision didn’t take long.
I had no intention of stopping here.
To change my life, I still needed this talent.
[Do you want to choose? Yes or No]
No.
The moment I chose, the system window closed.
At the same time.
Time, which had seemed frozen, started flowing again.
“Kim Juim!”
A familiar voice.
I looked up, and the branch manager was wearing a joy I had never seen on his face before.
“You won! Kim Juim, you’re the strongest amateur!”
I smiled briefly and nodded.
Prize money, five million won.
Certificate of Amateur 7-dan.
But above all.
The sense that I had actually done it.
It slowly, tangibly sank in.
“Uh, participant Kim Inha.”
A cautious voice approached.
I turned and saw a man with a crossbody bag standing there.
“I’d like to do a winner’s interview. Is a moment before the awards ceremony okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
I nodded.
The branch manager was beside me, arms crossed, smiling.
It felt like a silent pressure saying, “Make sure you get my story in there,” which made me chuckle.
We moved slightly and began the interview.
“You defeated Park Junsu, the top-ranked amateur, in the round of 64, and in the finals, you beat Kim Taeho, first in the first group of trainees likely to turn pro. How do you feel?”
I took a moment to catch my breath and choose my words.
“…I planned to win, and I thought I could.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, who my opponent was didn’t matter.”
I calmly added.
“I focused on the moves I could make. I gave my best.”
The reporter hesitated, unsure how to respond.
It wasn’t the typical emotional or celebratory answer.
It was my mindset going into the tournament, my sincere resolve.
“Concise yet strong.”
The reporter nodded with a smile.
“This will make for a great interview.”
We shook hands, and I stood up.
I saw the branch manager approaching from a distance.
I wondered how to respond without mentioning it directly.
“Congratulations on winning.”
A weighty congratulation.
I turned to see a familiar middle-aged man.
Kang Hyuk, 9-dan.
Since the su-dam-bae, the main tournament round of 64 against Park Junsu.
I hadn’t watched carefully, but he probably saw the finals too.
“You had a confident look.”
He looked me straight in the eyes.
“You didn’t flinch; you tried to win the game itself.”
“….”
“Beautiful Go. Both matches.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I lowered my head.
Kang Hyuk’s gaze softened as he looked at me.
“The winner of the President’s Cup strongest division earns a spot in the World Amateur Go Championship. Do you know that?”
“Yes, I’ve heard.”
“You could aim for it.”
“I’ll try my best.”
That was all I could answer.
I didn’t want to be someone who talks too much.
“Don’t take the long way around.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Ciel Bank Amateur Selection Tournament will be held soon. You’re likely invited because of your ranking.”
“C-Ciel Bank Cup… uh.”
The branch manager standing beside me suddenly clamped his mouth shut.
“If you make it to the main tournament, accumulating points could make you a pro.”
“…A pro?”
I muttered blankly.
It was a word I had never seriously considered.
I only vaguely wanted to move upward.
Kang Hyuk 9-dan studied me for a moment, then smiled softly without a word.
“Once again, congratulations.”
He left through the crowd, saying he’d see me at the awards ceremony.
The silence was broken by the branch manager’s awe.
“Did I hear that right? Master Kang Hyuk mentioned professional status to Kim Juim…?”
“Yes… that’s right.”
Even I, the person involved, felt dazed.
Pro.
The word kept circling in my mind.
The fog lifted, and what had seemed vague became clear.
The ceiling speakers announced.
The branch manager tapped my shoulder.
“What are you waiting for, Kim Juim? Let’s go.”
I took a short breath and moved toward the podium.
Many people were already gathered.
The previous winners were ascending the podium one by one.
Then.
“The President’s Cup National Go Tournament Strongest Division Winner, participant Kim Inha!”
I walked onto the podium.
Cheers and applause erupted.
Kang Hyuk 9-dan handed me the trophy, certificate, and Amateur 7-dan certificate.
Flashes went off for commemorative photos.
Below the podium, I saw the branch manager smiling widely, clapping enthusiastically.
A familiar notification sound rang.
[Talent: Go(A)]
[Winning Record]
Looking at the achievement window, I smiled without realizing it.
Now I understood.
Where I should go next.
Monday morning.
After a 1-night, 2-day schedule for the President’s Cup, I went to work at the bank.
I should have been exhausted physically and mentally, but strangely, I didn’t feel tired.
Instead, my mind was clear, and my body felt light.
The reason was obvious.
The President’s Cup prize money.
4.78 million won.
After tax.
Twice the monthly salary of a bank security guard after tax.
And.
The total prize money I had earned from amateur Go tournaments almost reached ten million won.
‘This is money that would take a whole year to save.’
Living expenses.
Student loans.
Parents’ debt.
I had painfully felt my salary merely brushing past my bank account.
But in just two months, a large sum had accumulated.
Thanks to that.
‘How long has it been since my family ate Korean beef together?’
After returning from the tournament, I took my parents to a nearby beef restaurant.
Smiles finally appeared on their tired, debt-worn faces.
The tender flower-cut sirloin melted in my mouth.
A happiness that couldn’t be exchanged for anything.
‘So this is why everyone says life is about making money.’
It finally made sense to me.
But.
‘What should I do with the remaining money?’
A practical worry suddenly came.
Invest?
Or save?
Pay off my student loan or help with my parents’ debt first?
Or…
‘Crypto?’
I shook my head sharply at the thought.
I remembered Hyundo’s losses from reckless crypto investments.
The money I had now—if large, it was large; if small, it was small.
My study and information were insufficient.
Investment was too early.
Then.
Bzzzz.
I checked my phone at the vibration.
[Yeonhee: Senpai! The article’s out! Photos too.]
‘Photos?’
I clicked the link Yeonhee sent.
It was an article about the President’s Cup National Go Tournament.
[President’s Cup Strongest Division Winner Kim Inha Interview]
[Defeated Amateur Ranking #1, Trainee Group 1 #1… Proving Skill]
[“I planned to win, and I thought I could.”]
[Next goal: World Championship? Or the Ciel Bank Amateur Rebellion?]
Reading the article made my hands cringe.
“I planned to win, and I thought I could.”
That was not the nuance I had intended…
It sounded like something out of a martial arts webtoon.
And.
‘Why are the photos like this!’
Final match photos.
Interview photos.
Award photos.
Taken at unknown times.
Composition and lighting were a mess—purely documentary.
The photos Yeonhee took had been soft and natural.
These were literally cringe history.
[Yeonhee: Senpai, your line sounds like a movie quote.]
[Inha: Can we pretend I didn’t see it?]
I glanced at the counter; Yeonhee was giggling, then buried her head back into her phone.
[Yeonhee: But the photos did turn out well.]
[Inha: Don’t tease me.]
[Yeonhee: Really. Senpai, did you notice?]
[Inha: Can I just pretend I didn’t?]
[Yeonhee: Normally a little clumsy… but when playing Go, senpai seems like a different person.]
[Inha: In a bad way?]
[Yeonhee: In a good way.]
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Good way, huh… at least that’s a relief.
A moment later, another vibration.
[Yeonhee: Also, Senpai, Double K Bank posted additional recruitment. There’s a regional talent track; you should apply.]
Double K Bank.
A financial company rivaling Ciel Bank, where I currently worked.
I once dreamed of joining them.
Of course, I failed.
‘Wait, regional talent track…’
Special recruitment for graduates from the region.
For a graduate of a local university like me, it was the most realistic opportunity.
[Yeonhee: This is from me.]
An email notification appeared at the top of my smartphone.
Study materials.
Expected interview questions.
Organized interview tips.
Files Yeonhee had personally compiled and sent.
I smiled briefly and replied.
[Inha: Thanks.]
A customer approached the counter, delaying Yeonhee’s reply.
Meanwhile, a thought came into my head.
‘I want to apply…’
There was one concern.
The conditions for maintaining my main job and talents.
Achievement farming.
System warnings.
Unclear standards.
The vague anxiety that leaving my main job or changing jobs could make my talents disappear.
It was just a guess, but I couldn’t ignore it.
Still.
‘Let’s apply first. I failed before… It’s not too late to think after I pass.’
It could even be a good opportunity.
I could test the relationship between main job and talent maintenance for sure.
As I organized my thoughts.
My phone vibrated again.
Bzz, bzz.
The intervals were short. A call.
‘Unknown number?’
I was at work.
Spam calls came often.
Normally, I’d have rejected it without thinking.
But.
I felt like I had to answer this one.
It was just a feeling.
I quietly got up and leaned against the bathroom corridor to take the call.
“Hello?”
“Yes, it is.”
A deep male voice came from the phone.