Being Poor
The camera's red light came on. I couldn't help but feel a little tense. Even though I'd lived as an adult in my previous life, this was my first time seeing a broadcast camera up close in person.
Regular people rarely stood in front of cameras like this to begin with. Unless it was for a news interview or getting caught on tape as a witness to some accident, it almost never happened.
Of course, as broadcasting platforms multiplied, ordinary folks started appearing on shows more often—but that was mostly cable or internet stuff.
This was my first time on terrestrial TV. The red light indicated the camera was recording right now. I'd learned today that the lamp on a camera flashes when it's active.
They'd given me a rough concept beforehand, so I didn't have to fumble around wondering how to act. The role they wanted today was "genius child author." All I had to do was let them film me writing my novel and going about my daily life. I wasn't sure if it was camera shyness, but my stomach felt a bit queasy.
Having a broadcast shoot like this made celebrities seem even more impressive somehow. Dozens of staff members were focused solely on me, filming away. I could totally see why "camera fright" was a thing. With lenses shoved right in your face like that, who wouldn't get queasy?
"Hello. I'm Lee Sora, a student at Byeolbit Elementary School."
I bowed neatly toward the camera. Then, at the PD's request, I showed them me writing my novel on the computer.
As I demonstrated my skill with the computer, typing away at the novel, the staff stared at me in astonishment. Yoo Min-ah and Kim Sung-ho, standing nearby, watched with proud expressions.
It was like they were saying, What do you think of the genius we discovered? Which made sense. A first-grader handling a computer proficiently was already amazing, but add in novel-writing on a keyboard, and it was bound to blow minds.
The only downside was Yoo Min-ah, who'd come in with heavy makeup today—it was a bit overwhelming.
They filmed me writing the part of the novel that would air. They said they wouldn't run the cameras 24/7, just specific segments. Fair enough—shooting nonstop around the clock would be a nightmare.
"Okaaaay!"
Choi Tae-young PD called out in a booming voice. The camera on me finally cut away. Only then did the mounting pressure ease off. I let out a deep sigh of relief. In a way, this was my debut on TV—my first time ever.
The shoot wasn't over yet. If anything, you could say it was just getting started. Now they were filming Kim Sung-ho and Yoo Min-ah.
"Sora's incredibly smart and composed for her age. Her novel-writing talent is exceptional, and she writes without any hesitation. If I had a kid like her, I'd compare mine to her all the time."
Kim Sung-ho spoke steadily and articulately, his experience shining through. Working in publishing had clearly given him practice with interviews, even if not on camera before. It had that seasoned vibe.
By contrast, I shot a pitiful glance sideways.
"Uh... um...! Y-yeah! Sora's really good at writing... er... um...!"
Yoo Min-ah, caked in thick makeup, was stumbling through her interview. She'd been thrilled about going on TV last time we talked, but now, facing the camera, she was trembling like prey cornered by a predator.
I'd been a little shaky too, but not to the point of quivering pupils and flapping lips like hers. Still, I signaled her with hand gestures to buck up.
Debuting on terrestrial TV for the first time in her life—shaking like a leaf wouldn't look good. Luckily, our eyes met, and she seemed to relax, handling the interview much better than before.
Choi Tae-young PD watched Lee Sora writing her novel. The staff around him were equally entranced. After years of filming, he'd seen every kind of oddball in Korea, but nothing had shocked him like this.
Was she really a kid...? She didn't seem like someone who'd just started elementary school. You could believe a 30-year-old man's soul had slipped into a child's body. (Of course, that was spot on. But unless Sora said it herself, no one on Earth could know her secret—not even with modern science, let alone future tech.)
"Whoa, isn't she amazing? A kid half my height writing like that!"
"And it's not some amateur stuff either. Genre fiction, sure, but I read the first volume—pretty fun. It's even selling at bookstores now."
Sunlight Painter? That good?"
"Yeah. Stayed up all night reading it."
"Ooh...!"
The staff chatted among themselves while filming. Broadcasts didn't run cameras 24/7. For a one-hour episode, you'd film that, then spend 2-3 hours editing, repositioning, prepping, and repeat.
Unless it was a studio show with no location changes, wait time outstripped air time. A downside of on-location shoots. Some programs kept the flow going, but that was for later.
Still, Choi Tae-young felt something was missing. She was a genius author, sure... but a little extra spice would help. Worst case, maybe line up a hospital for an IQ test to prove her genius...
"Thanks for your hard work!"
Sora bowed and prepared to leave the office. She timed her exit for her parents' return home. Nothing to do alone at home anyway—better to write her remaining novels here.
Plus, with the broadcast airing soon, she planned to rush out three or four volumes of Sunlight Painter. She was the type to publish four books a month at that insane pace. She could go faster too—elementary kids finished classes by noon, leaving afternoons free.
And Sora didn't need to study. She already knew it all. For core subjects like Korean, English, and math, she could solve problems without textbooks. Science varied by book, so she'd skim those.
"Heading home already?"
The host asked Sora. The format had him tossing questions, guests responding.
"Yes. My parents get off work at 6, so I go home then."
"Really? Don't you play with friends or anything?"
Sora nearly chuckled inwardly. She wasn't at the age to play with first-graders. Shaking her head, she replied,
"Novels are more important to me."
"I see."
With that, the staff and Sora headed home. Choi Tae-young tagged along, mulling how to mine footage from her house. Genius girl author with great looks—this was prime material. Failing to get episodes from it would be PD malpractice. Heck, just filming Sora as-is would work; she was broadcast gold on her own.
They got off the bus and wound through twisting alleys. Shabby houses greeted them until the host spoke up.
"Your... house is around here, Sora?"
"Yes. Just a bit farther."
It wasn't a great area. Even bluntly, no average person would choose to live here. Rats scurried in the alleys too.
"Eek!"
One staffer screamed at a rat from a sewer. Choi Tae-young saw the missing spice materialize before his eyes.
Arriving at the crumbling house, he couldn't help but smile. He wasn't a psychopath thrilled by poverty—but close enough.
On TV, poverty was a huge hook. Audiences envied the rich, jealous of their success. But the poor? They got sympathy, soft gazes. No wonder remodeling shows for the needy trended a few years back.
Of course, by the 2020s, folks would envy wealth and scorn poverty. But in the 2000s, that mindset was rarer.
If Sora were rich or well-off, the "genius author" story might feel bland.
But from a tragic background?
People always cheered geniuses from hardship. Sora fit right in.