Pocket Money, Not a Salary
It wasn't a salary—it was pocket money. The takoyaki specialty shop that Lee Seongbeom dragged me to was undeniably a hidden gem. The outside was crispy while the inside stayed moist, creating a delightful texture, and the various sauces and bonito flakes sprinkled on top harmonized perfectly to produce a rich flavor.
“I had no idea there was a place like this near the company. Have I really been working too much? How did you even find this spot, kid?”
“Well, it’s just… whenever I think about meeting you, I somehow end up craving takoyaki? So I looked it up a lot.”
“Did we ever eat takoyaki together before?”
“No. Forget I said anything.”
Lee Seongbeom stabbed a piece of takoyaki with a skewer, popped it into his mouth, and gave me a look that clearly said, I can’t possibly explain this. For some reason, I felt like I understood exactly why, but I chose not to voice it.
“Hey, shorty, you need to eat more. You’re already in sixth grade—how can you stay this tiny?”
“I’m already eating plenty. I’m just taking a little break because I’m slightly full right now.”
“You’ve only had three pieces.”
He nagged at me while I slurped cola through a straw. But what could I do? These takoyaki were a bit on the large side, so they wouldn’t fit in my mouth in one bite. Of course, my small mouth was part of the problem… and my shrunken stomach probably didn’t help either.
Even so, I’d been making a conscious effort lately to eat more because I felt like I wasn’t consuming enough. Choi Jintae, who had been watching me, smiled warmly.
“You remind me of my daughter when she was little. She’s all grown up now and not nearly as cute anymore.”
“Your daughter ate a ton even when she was young, though. She was a big baby from birth. That’s why every time we visited your place, I ended up bringing food instead of toys.”
“I’m speaking figuratively, you idiot.”
The two of them seemed genuinely close, bickering back and forth as they chatted. I took another long sip of cola, let out a satisfied “Pwah,” and looked up at them.
“So, about that editor thing you mentioned earlier. You’re saying the uncle is going to start a YouTube channel?”
“That’s right. It was actually this guy’s idea. He said uploading edited versions of broadcast footage or NG cuts would probably do well.”
“That sounds pretty good. And if the uncle appears as the MC himself, inviting former guests and sharing behind-the-scenes stories could be fun too. Or you could create an original YouTube program. Since YouTube has fewer regulations than TV, you could air it without profanity filters, which might make the guests feel more approachable and relatable. That angle could work really well.”
I rattled off idea after idea. Of course, none of these were things I had come up with myself—they were all concepts the uncle had already tried in my previous life. Even so, he hadn’t started his YouTube channel until much later back then. Had my involvement pushed the timeline forward?
As I pondered that, Choi Jintae—who had been sitting beside us listening—widened his small eyes in surprise.
“…Wow, a kid can see that far ahead?”
“Now you understand why I’m so desperate to snag her, right?”
Lee Seongbeom cackled like he was bragging about his own achievement.
“At this rate, we might as well sign her as a writer too. Should we revise the contract clauses?”
“Ah, there’s actually something I wanted to ask about that.”
“Hmm?”
When I saw Choi Jintae pull what looked like a contract from his bag, I raised my hand.
“As far as I know, actual employment only starts after you become an adult, and part-time work is only allowed from age fifteen and up… Is it even possible for me to sign a contract?”
I remembered having to get permission from the orphanage director back in high school just to get a part-time job. I had wanted to work since middle school, but they had refused. So how on earth could an elementary schooler like me sign a contract? There had to be some loophole.
“Of course a formal contract isn’t possible. Even with a work permit, you need to be at least thirteen, and you’re still too young for that.”
“Then how…?”
“Hmm… this is a bit tricky to explain, but… YouTubers are classified as sole proprietors.”
“Ah.”
Since each YouTube channel required a single person’s account, no matter how many people collaborated on videos, it could still be registered under one individual as a sole proprietorship. That meant the concept of “employment” was completely different from a regular company. Especially now, when the law hadn’t yet caught up with the times, there were plenty of legal gray areas that sole proprietors could exploit to minimize taxes.
A classic method was to “hire” someone without a written contract and without providing the four major insurances. This phenomenon was especially common on YouTube, where ordinary people who didn’t understand labor laws often operated. When I first started as an editor in my previous life, I had received payment without any contract either. Technically it was illegal and could lead to lawsuits if reported, but since it was a brand-new type of job, most editors—often young people who didn’t know the law—simply let it slide.
And Choi Jintae was suggesting we take advantage of exactly that loophole.
“What if I report you?”
“Then you lose the job that pays you. I thought you needed the money?”
“The word ‘salary’ feels a bit off. I’m just helping with work and receiving pocket money.”
“Huh? Bwahahaha! Yeah, it’s not a salary—it’s pocket money.”
The money I would receive for editing the uncle’s YouTube videos wasn’t a salary. It was simply pocket money, like the thousand won a child might earn from running an errand. Choi Jintae instantly caught my meaning and burst into loud laughter.
“Didn’t I tell you? This kid’s basically an old soul trapped in a child’s body.”
“Who are you calling an old soul?”
I stretched my leg under the table and kicked Lee Seongbeom’s shin with all my might. There was a solid thwack, but he didn’t seem to feel any damage—he just kept cackling. My foot hurt more.
“Then what exactly does the contract say?”
“No matter what, we still need approval from your guardian. Think of it as a personal contract meant to reassure them.”
“My guardian would be the orphanage director… I’m not sure he’ll agree so easily. To put it bluntly, he’s pretty old-fashioned.”
“That’s why I brought this guy along. He didn’t become bureau chief just because of his skills, you know.”
So that was why they had come together. Seeing a bureau chief from a broadcasting station personally handle such a trivial matter really showed how close the two men were. When I looked at Choi Jintae with a fascinated gaze, he gave me a kind smile.
“Just trust this uncle. His silver tongue is second to none.”
“Good heavens, are you saying our Sua is a genius?”
Back at the orphanage, the three adults and I sat on the sofa in the director’s office. The main topic was that my talent was so exceptional that normal employment was impossible due to my age. Therefore, I would study under Lee Seongbeom and receive pocket money as support.
Choi Jintae persuaded the director using pleasant words and expressions that emphasized how much he cared about the child. Contrary to my expectation that it would be difficult, the director’s eyes filled with emotion as he clasped Choi Jintae’s hands.
“Oh Lord… thank you. Bureau Chief, I’m truly grateful…”
“Then the contract…”
“How could I possibly stand in the way if the child has such a gift? The most important thing is the child’s own wishes. If she wants to do it, I welcome it wholeheartedly.”
The director’s eyes grew misty as he clutched the cross hanging around his neck and prayed. Watching him, I felt a strange tightness in my chest. I had always known he was the person at the orphanage who thought the most about the children. But seeing him shed tears made me wonder, Is it really that serious?
The image of the director sending me out into the world as an adult without a shred of hesitation flickered through my mind. Maybe he had been living for the orphanage children far more than I had realized.
“Then, I’ll be counting on you from now on.”
The director looked over the contract and, without hesitation, brought out his official seal and stamped it. That was surprisingly simple…
I had left the orphanage with ridiculous ease. Of course, I was still technically affiliated with it. Sleeping at the studio was fine, and if I earned money, I could rent a place and live alone. No problem.
It was only when I stepped outside the orphanage gates that the feeling that everything was truly over finally hit me. Snow was falling from the sky.
We headed straight to Lee Seongbeom’s studio. It was an ordinary villa, but it had various pieces of equipment scattered around since he sometimes held meetings or filming sessions there. As I looked around in fascination, Lee Seongbeom wore a worried expression.
“When we left the orphanage earlier… are you really okay?”
“I wasn’t going to see them much anyway. And they can’t touch me anymore, so what’s the big deal? If anything, I should be grateful they didn’t do anything worse.”
“…I see.”
Not long after leaving the orphanage, I spotted a few familiar silhouettes. They were the delinquents who had just become middle schoolers yet were already smoking cigarettes they’d gotten from who-knows-where. They ignored me, but I didn’t ignore them. I walked right up and spoke.
“No matter what, they’re still kids. Don’t you think those words were a bit too harsh…? Even I got goosebumps listening, ugh…”
“I’m one or two years younger than them, though.”
“Where on earth did you even learn curses like that…”
If I had to guess, probably from League of Legends. That place possessed a mysterious power that could creatively and innovatively dismantle someone’s very existence and character. You could call it a den of corrupted evolution. The delinquents, having heard insults that had evolved in the future, stood there in stunned silence. One of them even had tears in his eyes. Sue me, kid.
“The internet.”
“The internet is scary.”
“It really is.”
The internet truly was terrifying. If I ever had a child, I definitely wouldn’t let them have a phone until at least upper elementary school. Absolutely not.
Once we arrived at Lee Seongbeom’s studio, I immediately opened the door labeled “Editing Room.” The desk was piled with the remains of instant ramen cups, and crushed energy drink cans rolled around everywhere. Yet right in the middle of that mess sat a computer that looked impressively high-end at first glance. The sight felt strangely familiar—like looking at my own room from my previous life—and a sense of kinship washed over me.
My heart began to race. Could I really create videos here?
“S-so, we’re starting editing now, right? What should I do first? Oh, I should probably learn your style first, right? Since you must have your own unique style. Or should I start by making subtitle templates and basic style presets?”
Editing required all sorts of preparations. I wanted to start right away. But Lee Seongbeom clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Tsk tsk, you really don’t know anything. Guess you really are just a kid after all.”
“What? Then what are we supposed to do first?”
“We’re going out.”
“Huh?”
“A new employee’s first day on the job—what else? We’re going out to have fun, so hurry up and get ready!”
Lee Seongbeom had already changed into comfortable clothes at some point and finished preparing to leave in the blink of an eye.
Some people say that company dinners are an inevitable part of social life. Even while drinking and enjoying yourself, you have to read your boss’s mood, flatter them, and never show any sign of displeasure. For a new employee surrounded entirely by superiors, company dinners could truly be called hell.
And that hell had come for me too, in a slightly different form.
“So this is our new youngest? Kyaa! She’s so cute!”
“Look at that skin—so soft~ She’s literally a baby!”
“Can you call me unnie? Un~nie~”
“Eat some more of this, sweetie. You’re so pretty~”
Thankfully they didn’t make me pour drinks or grill meat, but ever since meeting the members of the uncle’s team, I had abandoned all free will and become a soft, squishy, cuddly sensory toy. This was social life. How terrifying society truly was. So soft and squishy.