Let's Go on Air
Kim Sung-ho, the section chief, said to Sora.
"How could we get on TV? We're not some big-shot publisher with connections."
Sora pointed at herself in response.
"I've got you covered."
"You, Sora?"
Kim Sung-ho looked at her with a puzzled expression. She was just 120cm tall, barely weighing anything. Of course, being small wasn't a bad thing.
Everyone went through a growth process. Adults didn't just pop out fully formed—they'd all been kids once. Every single person had that childhood phase before growing up.
Sora knew she might sound a bit full of herself saying this, but she had no choice.
"Honestly, it's a fact that I'm exceptional compared to kids my age."
She didn't want to brag, but it was true. Among eight-year-olds, she could confidently say she was the smartest. Well, "smartest" might be too narrow—maybe it was just IQ or some other measure of intelligence.
But no matter how you compared her to any child in the world, Sora was the only one with real-world social experience. No one else had reincarnated with memories intact like this.
Sure, some surprise TV shows claimed people remembered past lives, but that was just for ratings. No one on Earth had Sora's crystal-clear recollections.
"That's true... I have a kid your age at home, but mine can barely string a sentence together."
"Anyway, that's beside the point..."
Sora began explaining her plan.
"Honestly, if it weren't for your hard work, Mr. Kim, Sunlight Painter would've never seen the light of day."
Sora knew the novel had real appeal. But even with that, early sales had been dismal for a reason. Game fantasy just wasn't a hot genre in this era.
There had been famous game fantasies before Sunlight Painter, but it was the one that truly kicked off the boom. She'd read interviews with other authors who said when they wrote theirs, game fantasy was total niche. They'd gotten rejected by multiple publishers too.
"So, we're promoting me as the author."
"Promoting you, Sora?"
"Yes. And while we're at it, we promote my book on air too."
"You think that's easy? No TV writer would touch our stuff. They're too busy with big publishers' books—why would a major network plug a genre novel?"
"We shouldn't look for publisher ads. There are plenty of other media outlets."
"Like what?"
Kim Sung-ho was almost scared by how intelligently Sora conversed with him. He'd only known her a short time, but sometimes it felt like chatting with a peer. Unless she was possessed, it was incredible for a first-grader.
Still, considering her family situation, it made sense. Kids from crushing poverty had to grow up fast.
They couldn't throw tantrums or act spoiled.
How could they, with no money? Plus, Sora had mentioned eating at the Free Soup Kitchen. That was the first Kim Sung-ho had heard of such a place. In modern society, food wasn't a worry—obesity was the bigger issue, not skipping meals. But Sora's family scraped by in dire straits.
"Just my thought, but Mr. Kim, do you know the TV show Things Like That in the World?"
Things Like That in the World.
It was a famous program that profiled people with bizarre talents or abilities, interviewing them for the public. It had solid reach in this era.
By the time Sora had grown up and done day labor, its popularity had waned into a niche thing. But right now, it was prime-time gold. There were iconic episodes—like the auntie who despaired over her looks, injected weird chemicals, and turned grotesque. Donations poured in nationwide; she got surgery and reclaimed her life. That kind of public draw.
And smartphones were just emerging—no one had them on subways or in public yet. It'd be another three or four years before phones dominated media.
"Yeah, I know it. I watch it all the time."
Kim Sung-ho flinched at Sora's words.
"No way, Sora—you...?"
He could guess what was coming. Sora grinned mischievously.
"How about we go on there? Pitch 'A first-grader writes novels'—the producers would come running, right?"
"You think they'd drop everything?"
"Absolutely. Even you're baffled right now, Mr. Kim. How could a kid fresh out of kindergarten write genre fiction? No one would believe it."
"You're right..."
Kim Sung-ho nodded, convinced. When subordinate Yoo Min-ah first brought Sora in, he'd been floored. He'd even wondered if Min-ah had lost her mind.
An upper-elementary kid writing a novel? Sure, plausible—they knew writing basics and had life experiences.
But a kindergartener like Sora? Impossible. He kept repeating it because it truly defied logic. First kid like this in his life.
Yoo Min-ah, who'd been listening, chimed in.
"I'm all for it! If our story hits TV like Sora says, it'll be huge!"
Min-ah loved the idea.
Novels didn't ride fame easily. But Sora's uniqueness might change that—people went nuts for kid prodigies.
Kim Sung-ho hesitated, though. He wondered why Sora thought this way. For her parents? He voiced his concern.
"But Sora, if we do go on TV... you okay with that?"
"Huh? Why?"
Sora tilted her head at his worried tone. Kim Sung-ho explained slowly.
"Not saying anything bad, but... if we film, your family situation goes national. Maybe skip TV and find another way?"
"Oh, that's what you're worried about? I don't care at all. Don't worry."
Sora got it now. He was thinking of her poverty. Unlike Min-ah, he'd visited her home—a whole family crammed in worse than a college dorm.
TV would expose that mess nationwide. But public stares? Sora was immune. Orphanage life had toughened her—what could be worse?
More than pity, she wanted quick success to buy her parents a real home. Reading her eyes, Kim Sung-ho nodded.
"Hearing you say that, I guess I don't need to fret."
Sora was tough as nails already. She had the unbreakable mentality every novelist needed. Bad reviews crushed many, but Sora? She'd be fine.