Broadcast Permission
Kim I-na covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide in shock.
Tak-tak-tak-tak!
The girl's fingers flew across the keyboard without a hint of hesitation. Her tiny hands looked adorable, but when they struck the keys, it was like watching a wild lion in action. She never paused, never second-guessed herself—she just wrote. Was this even possible? Didn't writing involve moments of thought, of pondering? But Sora showed none of that.
Twenty minutes passed in a blur, like bullets from a gun. Right before Kim I-na's eyes sat a steaming-hot, freshly written novel. Sora looked at her and said,
"All done, Writer-nim."
"Hah...!"
Kim I-na floated in a daze, as if dreaming. But Sora's words snapped her awake.
"Th-this... this is really something you wrote, Sora-ssi?"
"You saw me do it."
"I saw it with my own eyes..."
Kim I-na found Yoo Min-ah's and Kim Sung-ho's calm reactions utterly alien. In all her years hosting Stuff Like This Happens in the World, she'd been surprised plenty of times, but never like this. Staring at Sora, she blurted,
"Y-you're not... like, a tiny adult or something, right...?"
She'd reached the denial stage. Kim Sung-ho and Yoo Min-ah chuckled at her newbie-like behavior—it mirrored their own reactions not long ago. They'd both been dumbfounded watching Sora write.
"I'm really a first-grader in elementary school. Not an adult."
"I see..."
Kim I-na read the novel Sora had written. It wasn't some haphazard scribble. It developed the plot precisely and wrapped up with a clean ending—a complete story. It matched the Sunlight Painter she'd seen before coming to Songi Media. Which meant the author of that Sunlight Painter was this tiny girl standing beside her.
Assuming everything I'd seen so far wasn't a dream or hallucination.
Sora sighed deeply at Kim I-na's incredulous stare at the computer. Even after showing her the writing process live, this was the reaction. But she couldn't blame her—it didn't make sense to Sora either.
While Kim I-na verified the work, Sora slurped her chocolate milk.
Shwick-shwick-shwick!
Sora sliced the pork cutlet in front of her. But her small body still felt unfamiliar. Eight years in this child's form, and yet the sensations of her adult male body lingered.
Yoo Min-ah, watching, helped like a doting mom.
"If it won't cut, just say so, Sora-ya."
"Ugh...!"
She expertly diced the pork cutlet with deft knife work. Perfectly portioned pieces arrayed before Sora.
"By the way, Sora-ya, you don't eat school lunch?"
"School lunch tastes bad."
It really did. Cooking for thousands at once—how could it taste good? The more people, the lower the quality. Mass production left no room for care. It was just about filling bellies.
So Sora skipped it. Instead, she ate here at Songi Media with the staff. She got tasty food, and Yoo Min-ah and Kim Sung-ho used her as an excuse to eat out too. Songi Media had no cafeteria—everyone went external. And it was cheaper that way.
Better to give lunch allowances than hire cooks, nutritionists, and such.
Kim I-na, watching Sora and Yoo Min-ah, gave an awkward smile.
"Anyway... the story Min-ah-ssi sent was really true."
Yoo Min-ah replied, sounding indignant.
"Of course it is. Why would I lie in a letter?"
"Our show deals in rare stuff, so we get tons of fake stories. But seeing Sora write... it's real."
"When I first saw Sora write, my jaw dropped too."
Yoo Min-ah had been shocked— no wonder Kim I-na was. It felt like copying an existing book. Even if it was, recalling every word perfectly was genius.
"It was like transcribing a published book verbatim."
Sora flinched.
A dagger to the heart. She closed her eyes, thinking an apology to the Sunlight Painter author from her parallel world.
Even if that writer didn't exist here... they'd been real in her past life as a man.
"So, since Sora-ssi wants it, let's set a firm broadcast date."
Kim I-na said to Kim Sung-ho and Yoo Min-ah. But they glanced at Sora.
"We're fine with it. But Sora's parents are the issue..."
"Ah, convincing the parents?"
"Yeah. Sora's family isn't well-off. Not sure if they'll want to appear."
Sora's home was bottom 10%—even empty words couldn't deny it. If parents refused despite Sora's wish, nothing to be done. But Sora spoke up, sincere.
"Don't worry about my parents. I'll convince them. And I told you when sending the letter—I can handle their permission."
Her confident tone was reassuring. But her follow-up flustered them.
"Can you do mosaics, by the way?"
Mosaics?
Why would Sora say that? But she explained.
"My parents can't have their faces known on TV."
Her casual words stirred unease in Kim I-na.
Did they commit a crime?
Reasons for mosaics were simple: jobs or deeds that barred public exposure, or shady stuff. But if grave, they wouldn't appear. Not life-or-death serious. Though crazies appeared for fame alone.
Even murderers hid crimes to go on air. Rare, but such bad-egg criminals existed.
Kim I-na hoped Sora's parents weren't like that. This was a huge catch—a first-grader writing real novels, plus adorable looks. News of that would explode.
But her anxiety grew en route to Sora's home.
Leaving Songi Media, Kim I-na drove Sora home in her car. Sora offered bus, but why when a ride was available?
Arriving at Sora's place, Kim I-na was stunned. Worse than her old college one-room. Now she got why Sora wanted secrecy.
Living like this? Nine times out of ten, debt. Kim I-na's eye for such things—from meeting masses—was spot-on. Eerily so. Time for a "debt-spotting master" TV spot?
"Come in, Writer-nim."
Sora invited her boldly. Poverty wasn't a crime. Blaming home for inaction didn't suit her. Past life as an orphan orphan had taught resilience.
"Oh my! Sora's been bringing strangers home lately?"
Sora's parents were inside.
"I want to do the show."
Sora declared firmly. Parents looked troubled but nodded— no parent beats a determined child. And with debt—not crime—TV was fine.
Soon after, Kim I-na sent Stuff Like This Happens in the World staff over.