Creation Talent
Ever since their first kiss yesterday, Kim Jihun had been avoiding Leila.
“Do you hate that I like you? Why do you keep dodging me?”
Leila wasn’t the same Leila anymore. The youthful innocence of her 15-year-old days had vanished completely, replaced by a voluptuous figure tailored to Jihun’s tastes and a radiantly beautiful appearance. For any ordinary guy, her open affection would be a dream come true.
But for Kim Jihun, accepting her felt like too much of a burden. He was a mortal-born. She was a direct descendant of a high-ranking Creator God. He didn’t feel worthy of standing tall before her.
So Jihun said, “But there’s just too big a gap between us.”
“We’re both low-level gods now. Well, mid-level for me these days.”
“No, that’s not what I mean, Leila.”
Jihun shrank back a little. To be precise, he was hyper-aware of their differing origins.
“You’re a direct descendant of a high-ranking Creator God. But I’m mortal-born. Look at your wings.”
Jihun pointed at her wings with a fingertip. The ornate mark of the divine race—pure white wings of glory—proudly sprouted from her back.
“Now look at me.”
Jihun gestured at himself with a faintly bitter expression. There was nothing behind his back. No overflowing divine power manifesting as wings, no innate vast reserves of godforce. Nothing.
Jihun had been born with precious little. His family was poor, he had no talents, and his looks were average. That was his unchanging origin.
Without stumbling upon his Creation Talent one day and the fateful Creator God Manual, he’d still be scraping by in a life riddled with defeat and inferiority.
For someone like him to build a relationship with Leila, the most dazzling direct descendant of a high-ranking Creator God? It felt like an unbearable mismatch. The chasm in their origins stirred something unwelcome in his heart.
Inferiority complex. It was buried deep in Jihun’s soul—his darkest emotion, his reverse scale. Leila’s pursuit was more than enough to drag it back to the surface.
That’s why he avoided her. To escape confronting that inferiority again.
But Leila wasn’t one to back down easily. She told him, “Origins don’t matter.”
“...You really think that?”
Jihun stepped forward, challenging her words. Leila flinched.
“I’ll say it again: I’m mortal-born.”
As Jihun emphasized, Leila realized the truth. Even among low-level gods, being a direct descendant of a high-ranking Creator God versus a general god made a world of difference. Some were born with immense divine power and overflowing talents, while others started with barely a fraction of that.
That’s why pairings across class lines were rare. Divine bloodlines were fiercely conservative. And Jihun’s lineage wasn’t even divine—it was bottom-of-the-barrel mortal stock.
He avoided tying himself to her for that reason. Comparing their origins was like a king and a slave on Earth. No—even worse, since they weren’t even the same species. It was a god-versus-mortal divide.
More than enough to fuel Jihun’s inferiority.
“Our worlds are too different, Leila. Our values, our outlooks on life—they don’t match. Me, with you? That’s incredibly tough.”
Tales of lovers transcending status differences belonged in fairy tales. At least, that’s what Jihun believed. Having clawed his way up without talent or bloodline, he viewed origin gaps more pessimistically than anyone.
“You’re just caught up in the heat of the moment, obsessing over me. Think about it coldly later. Do we really fit?”
Mismatched couples often ended in disaster and deep scars. Intelligence naturally rejected the unfamiliar, and that held true for romance too.
That’s why Jihun had dodged her.
He muttered that quietly and tried to walk past her.
But Leila blocked his path.
“No, we can understand each other even if we’re different.”
With resolve in her eyes, she strode toward him. Now nearly Jihun’s height, she closed in and pressed her lips to his.
“!”
Jihun recoiled in shock, but Leila’s hand gripped the back of his neck firmly. She kissed him passionately. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, twisting wildly, ravaging every corner as if determined to savor all of him.
Jihun’s eyes widened at her sudden move and the dizzying wave of pleasure crashing over him.
“...”
Moments later, Leila slowly pulled away. Her sweet scent filled the air, and her lips glistened with their mingled saliva from the kiss.
Leila met Jihun’s gaze defiantly. “Bloodlines and origins? They don’t matter. I’m going to be with you, Kim Jihun.”
It sounded less like a love confession and more like a bold challenge. She pressed on.
“I want to know more about you—not just the god side, but the human you too.”
Leila was ready to do anything to be with him, to embrace every part of him.
She nodded firmly, as if deciding something. “Alright, it’s settled.”
With bold declaration, she proclaimed, “To understand you, I’m going to visit Earth for some fun.”
She planned to experience the world where he’d grown up, to truly know all of him.
“What are you talking about?”
Jihun couldn’t grasp her intent. He’d cited their origin gap as the issue, and this was her response?
But Leila grinned mischievously—drawing an involuntary gasp from Jihun—and said, “You said it yourself. Our origins make our thoughts and values different.”
“...Yeah.”
“But I’m ready to understand and accept you.”
Her stare was predatory, like a lioness eyeing prey. Jihun flinched and looked away.
“Doesn’t matter if you’re human or not divine-born. What matters is I’ve fallen for you, and origins or differences mean nothing. I like you unconditionally.”
Her blunt “fallen for you” flushed Jihun’s cheeks, but she continued faster.
“So I’ll live like a human to learn about you—the real you, beyond the god stuff. Your personality, your values, your thoughts...”
Leila leaned in again, her lips brushing his in a light, teasing touch—nothing like the deep kiss before. They met softly, then parted.
“You can’t escape me, Kim Jihun.”
She stated it firmly and walked away, leaving him staring blankly after her. He felt the secret inferiority in his heart dilute, his pulse racing fiercely.
...
The next day, Jihun was discharged from the hospital and returned to his Earth home. With his promotion battle won, he had no more business at the school.
The moment he reached his room, he flopped face-first onto the bed.
“Phew, nothing beats home.”
He’d sampled the school’s lavish facilities and lived comfortably under the principal’s care after acing the promotion battle. But home was still the best.
Jihun buried his face in his pillow, savoring the coziness. Then he muttered, “A whole month left, huh.”
Having perfectly cleared the Allei Low-level School promotion, Jihun had about a month of free time before enrolling in Allei Mid-level School.
He started pondering what to do with it.
First, make some money, fix up the house. Learn to cook too.
He’d thought he had few interests before, but now ideas flooded in.
As he organized his thoughts, something clicked. Wait, what about the P.B watch?
He suddenly recalled the watch he’d designed. He’d heard it launched somewhere.
Jihun grabbed his smartphone and searched immediately. His expression brightened.
Jihun was stunned by the flood of positive buzz. He’d poured effort into the design, but this level of hype was beyond expectation.
“Wow, people really love my design.”
Gazing at the articles, he wore a nostalgic smile. Having a real talent that others admired—this was the dream he’d chased before awakening his Creation Talent. Seeing it real made his heart swell.
Then a thought struck. Come to think of it, they mentioned profit-sharing in the contract.
When signing with P.B, there’d been a clause for a percentage of sales from his design. Remembering that, Jihun grew excited about the incoming payout.
“With this popularity, it’s gotta be a fortune.”
Anticipation buzzing, he headed to the ATM at his local bank.
...
“...”
Speechless, Jihun stared at the bankbook in his hand. A string of digits filled the balance.
It was the profit share from his P.B watch design deposited into his account. The deposit itself wasn’t shocking.
But the amount? Tens of billions of won. Enough to stagger any average citizen like him.
Massive wealth now sat quietly in Jihun’s account, still growing.
He muttered blankly, “How much is this...?”
Earning big money wasn’t entirely new. He’d gotten a 10-million-won check from Chae Seong-ah and 100 million upfront from P.B.
But this dwarfed all that. Tens of billions—for a commoner like him, it was insane.
“Whoa, no way...”
Feeling like he was dreaming, Jihun pinched his cheek. Nope, real. He’d made tens of billions.
The reason was simple: the profit share from his original P.B contract. His luxury watch design had become a massive hit, ballooning his cut.
Realizing the power of royalties, Jihun shivered.
“Insane.”
Just one watch design, and he’d pocketed tens of billions overnight.
Kim Jihun was rich now.