Creation Talent
Kim Jihun stared at the notification slip clutched in his hand. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and looked at it once more.
"7, 7, 7, 7..."
An unbelievable string of numbers filled the page. A whopping 7777. A stunning sequence of lucky sevens in a row. If these had popped up on a casino slot machine, he'd have screamed in ecstasy. But sadly, they weren't from any slot machine.
These were the scores on Kim Jihun's college entrance exam results.
"..."
Kim Jihun gazed blankly at his report card for a moment before crumpling it into a tight ball and tossing it toward the trash can. The paper wad sailed perfectly into the bin.
He muttered under his breath. "Yeah. There has to be some mistake. No way that's my score. Not after all the effort I put in."
He stood there, face dazed and empty. "Haa."
Then he sighed deeply.
In truth, he knew those numbers were spot-on—his actual scores. He understood better than anyone just how pitiful his talents were. But knowing something and accepting it were two different beasts.
"Sniff..."
Tears began leaking from the corners of Kim Jihun's eyes.
Jihun had tried so hard. He'd wracked his lagging brain to its limits, sitting for hours on end, studying like a man possessed. Online lectures, reference books, frantic English vocab memorization—he'd done it all. He pitied his own dim wits, but he'd pushed on anyway.
Yet here was the payoff for all that desperate grinding: 7777, as plain as day. Bluntly speaking, it was barely scraping by.
"Uwaaaah!"
His heart shattered, Kim Jihun crawled into bed and buried his face in the pillow, sobbing uncontrollably.
Memories of his struggles flooded back. Nights fueled by coffee. The emotional rollercoaster of mock exams. The trembling dread of botching a single mark.
Jihun had poured his soul into studying. But reality didn't care. He simply had no gift for it, and that's why his scores tanked.
Kim Jihun had no talents whatsoever.
Whatever he tried, he always trailed behind. Intense study? Grades in the gutter. Sports? Zero improvement. Games? Dead weight to the team.
No matter what, he couldn't produce results worth a damn. Kim Jihun was practically talentless.
After hours curled up in bed, sniffling away, Jihun finally sat up slowly. He'd tasted failure so often thanks to his lacks that he'd gotten quick at bouncing back. Even with three years' effort down the drain, he shook it off fast.
"...Guess I'll hit the bookstore."
His mood still sucked, though. He needed a change of pace. So Kim Jihun geared up to head out and lose himself in his favorite books.
Reading was one of his rare joys. Books were perfect—no hassle, just sit and enjoy.
Kim Jihun couldn't handle stuff like sports or games, the hobbies his peers loved. Without talent, he always lagged, and fun? Forget it.
So his pastimes were haunting bookstores, reading, collecting. Books demanded no rivalry, no teamwork, no wins or losses, no grinding.
Rubbing his puffy, tear-stung eyes, Jihun stepped outside.
A sharp winter gust sliced across his face. The cold bit deep.
Kim Jihun lifted his gaze to the bookstore right in front of him.
Yelim Bookstore
A humble little shop with zero flair in the name. Fun fact: the "Yelim" came from the bookstore owners' daughter's name.
One of those cozy neighborhood spots you find everywhere.
But Kim Jihun loved these mom-and-pops. Quiet reading was his thing, so noisy megastores? Hard pass.
Bonus: they stocked used books. For a broke student like him, that meant snagging reads on the cheap.
Hence, Kim Jihun was a regular.
"Ah, Jihun's here."
"Hello."
Jihun pushed open the door. The small shop's warm, snug vibe wrapped around him like a hug.
The sister minding the desk greeted him with a smile.
"Jihun, were you crying?"
"...That obvious?"
The clerk's face softened with pity. She'd watched over Kim Jihun for years, knew what a tender, sweet kid he was. And how he sought refuge here when things went south.
So she offered solace. "Rough day, huh? Wanna tell me what happened?"
"Bombed the entrance exam."
"Ahh, the exam..."
Seo Yerim—the clerk and owners' daughter—nodded knowingly. She hadn't seen him much lately; he'd been buried in studies. Quick visits were just for refs and vocab books.
"Hang in there, Jihun."
Seo Yerim consoled him, her heart aching. She knew his grind; his flop hit hard.
"I really hope you bounce back... Hmm..."
Jihun was a years-long regular. They'd gotten close. Seeing him mope over exam woes, Yerim racked her brain for comfort.
"Ah, got it. Free used book as a pick-me-up. Any one you want."
She dangled a gratis used tome. Used or not, for a book fiend like Jihun, it was gold.
"...For real?"
"Yup! Can't do new—parents would flip—but used? Go wild. You know they slack on those."
Jihun's gloom lifted, face brightening. Yerim gave a wry smile at the sight.
'What a hopeless softie.'
Kids their age into books like him? Rare breed.
Yerim watched him bound to the used section, cheeks faintly pink.
Expression fully eased, Jihun rummaged away.
"Novel? Science? History sounds good too."
He dug through dusty stacks and shelves, brushing off grime, untying cords for peeks.
Used books ruled for him. Cheap thrills aside, the hunt felt like treasure-seeking.
Dust flying everywhere, he kept at it.
Then one volume snagged his eye.
"Huh, what's this?"
Thick as a brick. Too heavy for one hand, metal cover—not even fancy hardcover. Silvery stuff with a subtle golden sheen.
"Whoa..."
Luxurious vibe hooked him. No hesitation—he cracked it open, curious what lay inside.
"?"
Expectancy soured to bafflement. Pages crammed with bizarre shapes. Intricate geometric patterns in vivid colors, dominating every sheet.
"What even? Art book?"
Kim Jihun flipped blankly. Paper felt silky-smooth, premium—like high-end fabric. Fingers glided; pages turned whisper-quiet.
"Weird paper... And these designs..."
Stylish metal skin. Velvety sheets. Labyrinthine geometries.
That summed it up. Zero text, zero pics.
Jihun realized he was hooked. Tons of sought-after titles around, yet he ignored them, lost in this enigma's pages.
"This one's mine."
He committed. Weird, blank slate of a book, but its aura clicked.
Showed Yerim, took it home.
"Mysterious thing."
Home safe, clothes still on, he dove in. More gawking than reading—no words, after all.
Just savoring patterns page by page.
Thick, but sparse: maybe 400 pages.
Not skimpy, but he'd tackled chunkier.
"Done."
Last page turned. Clock check: hours gone. Simple patterns, short stack—yet three hours vanished.
Deep dives per page ate time.
"Wild book."
Shut, desk-bound. Admire anew: gleaming silver metal, embossed mysteries shimmering gold under light.
"Damn, high-class."
Dust disguised it amid the junk pile. Cleaned up? Masterpiece.
Unexpected score—mood boost.
Then—
Flash!
Golden blaze erupted from the book. Room bathed in radiant gold.
"Wha? Huhh?!"
Panicking, Jihun flailed, ass-planting on the floor.
Book pulsed gold nonstop, dazzling everything.
"What the... Ack!"
Still sprawled, eyes widened at the impossible: the glowing tome floated into the air!
"No way?!"
Jaw slack, the book splayed its pages mid-hover.
First page: geometric wonder, as expected.
Then it shifted.
"..."
Speechless, Jihun stared.
The pattern warped, shedding light particles, morphing into script. Letters clustered into sentences.
You possess the Creation Talent of a Creator God.
You are qualified to use the Creator God Manual.
Register as a user?
The script blazed with brilliant golden radiance.