The Advantage of Being Young
Being young was nothing but a disadvantage in the wild.
Enormous herbivores like elephants, giraffes, or buffalo weren't devoured by lions once they reached adulthood.
Unless multiple lions attacked at once, they had full confidence in a one-on-one fight.
But young herbivores? They were just a single meal for a lion.
That was why animals in the wild grew so quickly—to rush through that vulnerable, utterly weak childhood phase.
Humans, however, were different. Our childhood alone lasted over a decade, with growth rates that were absurdly slow.
Among all animals, few had such an extended period of development.
Baby humans couldn't even walk or find food on their own.
Without parental care, they were as good as dead.
For humans too, being young was nothing but a disadvantage.
But in modern society, that meaning had changed.
Once civilization had developed enough, being young somehow became a strength. If an ordinary adult wrote a novel like Sunlight Painter, people would just shrug and move on.
Adults writing novels wasn't anything surprising.
But if a young child wrote a full novel like this? Not even a fifth- or sixth-grader, but a kid fresh out of kindergarten? People would gape in disbelief.
And that very youthfulness would become a huge plus. Just like parents drawing strength from their own children during tough times in life, people often gave kids an extra dose of generosity.
If an adult churned out a mass-produced pulp novel? Most would curse them out or hurl stones, ranting about how they were massacring trees for such trash. But if a child—barely able to read—wrote one? People would go wild.
How did a kid write something like this?! If an elementary schooler can produce this, imagine what they'll write later!
Sunlight Painter was exactly like that right now.
"This is..."
Kim Sung-ho couldn't help but let out an exclamation as he looked at the Sunlight Painter Sora had written.
He'd been in the publishing industry for over ten years now—enough to be considered a veteran. Ten years of experience wasn't just the neighbor's dog's name.
For a first-grader like Sora to produce a perfectly normal full-length novel felt like a miracle.
If you asked kids her age to write something like this, they wouldn't even manage a single page, let alone a whole book. Their spelling would be off, filled with bizarre, childish expressions. That was just how young kids were. At Sora's age, they were still grinding through basic arithmetic—pondering 1+1 and wracking their brains over it.
Yet Sunlight Painter, as written by Sora, was so clean and engaging that it was impossible to believe a first-grader had penned it.
"A protagonist who's not a combat class? That's a first."
"Right, boss. The main character's job is so unique. Who thinks of making painter a profession?"
This kind of bouncy imagination might be a privilege unique to children. Kids could dream up the weirdest, most outlandish ideas, but that didn't make those ideas bad.
"And it's fun, too. It could definitely sell in the market."
Novels were such strange things.
Made from the same ink and letters, yet sales varied wildly based on the content inside. Some books sold hundreds of thousands of copies, while others struggled to hit a thousand.
The publishing world was heavily influenced by luck—seven parts fate, three parts skill.
No matter how well you wrote, success wasn't guaranteed here. In Kim Sung-ho's opinion, after reading the entire first volume, Sunlight Painter had earned a solid passing grade.
And the genre novel market was brutally honest.
Here, it all came down to fun.
Grammar issues? Atrocious prose? Lackluster style? None of it mattered.
As long as it was entertaining, that was enough.
In pure literature circles, poor sentence craft meant you were doomed—they didn't prioritize fun as much. Sure, it mattered, but not like in genre fiction.
In genre novels, no amount of writing skill saved a boring story. Readers wouldn't touch it. Naturally so. Unlike pure lit, where ideology and philosophy reigned, genre fiction was all about dopamine hits.
No one picked these up expecting deep thoughts. Sales depended on how thrilling and stress-relieving the read was.
In that sense, Sunlight Painter nailed the fun factor.
It was engaging, and the writing wasn't off-putting.
Kim Sung-ho looked at Sora and said,
"Anyone who hasn't seen it with their own eyes won't believe you wrote this, Sora."
"Exactly, boss. They'll think it's ghostwritten or plagiarized. A first-grader writing like this? It'd be TV news material."
Sora flinched.
The word "plagiarism" from Yoo Min-ah's mouth made her tremble slightly.
It was plagiarism, in a way. If this weren't a parallel world, she'd be nothing but a copycat thief. She wouldn't have even published it— the original would already be out there. Or she'd have had to release it one or two years ahead of schedule.
What would happen to the original author then? Sora's novels were massive hits. Snatching that success just because she came from the future? It'd be no different.
In that light, she could only breathe a sigh of relief that this was a parallel world. Without this plan to succeed through novels, she couldn't even imagine how to pay off all that debt.
"You did great, Sora."
Kim Sung-ho felt he had to show this work to more people.
"No."
Kim Sung-ho got shot down flat by Lee Tae-young, the publishing planning manager at Songi Media. He pointed to Sora's manuscript and pleaded.
Without the planning manager's approval, no book could be published under Songi Media. It was a position of immense influence.
"Manager! Why not?!"
"Look, it's fun and all, but game fantasy? That's a stretch, isn't it? Our genre team does well with straight fantasy or fusion fantasy. Do we really need to publish game fantasy?"
Game fantasy was definitely a niche genre up to now. As planning manager, even at his age, Lee Tae-young knew the market well enough. He hadn't landed the role for nothing.
Sora didn't know the full history of novels, but at this time, game fantasy didn't sell. It got good reactions on serialization sites for aspiring writers.
She knew that from uploading to Daldongne. But web buzz didn't translate to publishing success—it was dismal.
Game fantasy rarely broke 3,000 copies. Rental shops even returned them.
Even the original world's Sunlight Painter faced rejections from multiple publishers, much like the world's most famous wizard boy's tale getting turned down left and right.
"It's topping the charts on this site called Daldongne—huge reader response! There's no reason not to publish something this popular!"
"You know web reactions and publishing sales are two different beasts, Kim."
"And the most important part..."
Kim Sung-ho explained who had written the novel.
Publishing planning manager Lee Tae-young's eyes widened in shock.
Was it for real?
The moment he heard a first-grader wrote it, he couldn't help but sign off on the publishing plan like he was under a spell. This kid had insane talent. A few flops wouldn't matter; there was reason enough to push forward. Sora hadn't been with Songi Media long, so departments without direct contact wouldn't know.
That was life.
You could be right next door in the barracks and still not know your neighbor—that was the nature of society.