Be My Desk Mate
“Thank you for choosing our P.B. I’m really looking forward to working with you.”
Camiel set the empty cola glass down on the table as he spoke. Kim Jihun smiled back.
“No, thank you. This is actually my first real job, so I’m counting on you.”
The only work Jihun had done to make money so far was part-time at a bookstore and streaming as a gaming BJ. Those were more like temporary gigs than proper careers.
But this new role as a “watch designer” was undeniably impressive by anyone’s standards. And at P.B no less—a position any designer would kill for. Landing a spot like that?
What a wild turn of life, Jihun thought as he sat there.
That was when Camiel pulled a document from his bag and handed it over.
“Here’s the contract. Please take a close look, and let me know if there’s anything you’d like to change.”
“The contract...”
Jihun eyed the paper Camiel offered. It was filled with clauses in both French and English. He scanned it carefully—and spotted something odd.
“Whoa! Isn’t this a mistake?”
“Which part?”
Jihun pointed to the clause on the designer’s compensation. He was certain the amount was wrong.
“It says a $100,000 signing bonus for a one-year contract and a base monthly salary of $10,000.”
He figured it had to be a clerical error. A $100,000 signing bonus? That was about 100 million won. And a monthly salary of $10,000—another 10 million won. For a newbie designer just starting out? Insanely high.
In short, the contract promised a 100 million won signing bonus for a year-long deal, plus 10 million won every month. On top of that, a share of profits from any designs he created. And the best part? No strings attached. No mandatory output quotas, no fixed hours. The only restriction was a non-compete clause barring designs for other watch companies.
Bottom line: Jihun could do absolutely nothing and still pocket 10 million won a month. A contract this one-sided in his favor? No wonder he suspected a mix-up.
There’s got to be some mistake. Why offer terms this generous?
Even if they’d seen his watch, he was still a no-name designer with zero track record. It made his conscience twinge a bit.
But Camiel just looked at him and chuckled warmly.
“Haha, it’s fine, Maître. I set that salary because I believe your value exceeds it, Mr. Kim. Please accept it without worry.”
“Still...”
“Your watch gave me a tremendous shock. I couldn’t believe someone could craft something so beautiful and perfect. I knew right then: we had to bring you on board, no matter the cost.”
Jihun was floored by Camiel’s kind smile and earnest demeanor.
Whoa, is this the aura of a true executive?
There was a natural charisma about him, effortlessly drawing people in. Jihun decided to graciously accept the kindness.
“Thank you so much. I had no idea the terms were this good.”
“Hahaha, talent like yours will slip away if you don’t treat it right. I see huge potential in you, Mr. Kim. Please, take it.”
“I’m grateful.”
Jihun signed the contract with a pleased smile. Having his skills recognized and rewarded felt great—especially coming straight from the chairman of a major corporation.
…
“Whoa!”
Standing in front of the bank ATM, Kim Jihun stared at his account balance in shock. A cool 100 million won. That massive sum sat there in his account, real as could be. His hands trembled with excitement.
I actually made this money. For real.
On paper, the contract hadn’t felt real. $100,000—100 million won—was the stuff of TV dramas and novels. But seeing those digits on his bank screen? It hit different.
“A professional watch designer for P.B!”
With visions of a bright future, Jihun stepped out of the bank.
He was a fresh-faced newbie in the working world, barely an adult for a few months, and flat broke—or he should’ve been, like any typical starter. But now? His account overflowed with over 100 million won.
High on the thrill, he muttered to himself.
“See? Money comes without even chasing it.”
Savoring the moment, Jihun reflected. He’d always resisted using his Creation Talent overtly just to make cash. Truth be told, if he wanted, he could rake it in effortlessly—transmuting gold, inventing new materials to sell, buying land and building skyscrapers with his powers. Creation made anything possible.
But he’d held back. To avoid being swayed by greed or materialism.
And now...
“A designer at P.B?”
He could earn big without dipping into his gift directly. Sure, his sharpened design sense was an indirect boon from the talent’s growth, but he hadn’t abused the supernatural side.
Jihun was content.
“I can’t waste a noble gift like this just on chasing money.”
It might feel restrictive at times, but he stuck to his principles. Refining his Creation Talent toward true godhood without squandering it—that was his creed.
Earning without compromising? Satisfaction guaranteed.
“So, what to do with all this cash?”
Back home, Jihun plopped down in his room, pondering his windfall. 100 million won, ripe for the spending. He could let it sit, but with money like this, he wanted to do something.
“Move to a new place? Or buy a car?”
Ideas bubbled up. First: a new house. His current one was rundown and shabby—hastily built ages ago, drafty in spots, worn by time, dirty and uncomfortable.
A nicer home would mean way better living.
But...
“Can’t move right now.”
Rejected. Simple reason: school. His bracelet was fixed to specific coordinates. It linked his room to the divine school, but a move would break that. Sure, Asrie-made, it might auto-adjust, but Jihun hated unnecessary gambles.
Wait till I finish school, then rethink housing.
Next idea.
“How about a car?”
A car. He thought of the women he knew—Seo Yerim and Chae Seong-ah—both zipping around in their own rides. Yerim’s modest compact from tutoring gigs, Seong-ah’s chauffeur-driven limo befitting her chaebol heiress status.
He’d quietly envied them. With 100 million and 10 million monthly incoming, he could splurge on one now.
But...
I don’t even have a license.
Right. No driver’s license yet. And his place lacked even basic parking. Even with a license, nowhere to keep it.
Car: too much hassle.
“Hmm, nothing to blow it on right away.”
A bit disappointing—no immediate splurges for 100 million won!
Still, his mood stayed upbeat.
“...But now I can take good care of Mom and Dad.”
10 million a month? Plenty to spoil his parents. From here on, filial piety mode activated.
A smile crept across Jihun’s face.
…
“Kim Jihun...”
Leila swept her golden hair back, murmuring his name. She’d been observing him for days now.
Nothing deep—just keeping tabs on the one low-level god who could match her.
Her verdict?
What a frustrating guy.
To her, Jihun was painfully passive. He wielded top-tier divine power control for a low-level god but never flaunted it. Never bragged. He even hid it, glancing nervously at other low-level gods.
But Leila wouldn’t let that slide.
Let’s duel!
She burned with competitive fire. A fair fight, winner takes superiority—that’s what she craved.
Yet Jihun stayed defensive. He hid his skills until she provoked him, then unleashed the real deal.
Generous at best, spineless at worst.
To her, talent demanded display for recognition. Gods didn’t seek out others’ strengths; you had to show it to claim respect and status.
But look at Jihun! Huddled in corners, quietly doing his thing, all mopey and low-key.
It grated on her.
“Ugh!”
During break time, after stewing, she stood and marched over. Straight to the back corner where Jihun sat.
“Hey, you.”
Her expression sharp, she called out to him. Jihun, head down napping, slowly looked up.
The glossy golden-haired girl god, Leila, filled his view.
She declared boldly.
“You. Sit with me in class.”
Confusion crossed Jihun’s face.
— Author’s Note —
You, be my partner.
3-day streak complete! See you tomorrow!