Mountains of Work
Online, the buzz around Sora was boiling over. Her tough family situation, combined with her looks, created a unique synergy effect. And hearing her family backstory—parents who hadn't done anything wrong—provided the perfect fuel for deep emotional empathy.
On top of that, the crowning touch: a first-grader writing a novel.
That was exactly what Songi Media had been aiming for.
No one could ignore a novel written by a first-grade elementary student. Plus, it wasn't some dense pure literature—it was simple genre fiction anyone could pick up and enjoy.
It was a fact that genre novels were easier to read and more accessible than pure literature. Genre fiction existed to hook readers with fun, after all. You could safely call it dopamine-driven.
Sora was feeling the full ripple effects of that broadcast. But popularity was intangible—you couldn't put a number on it.
However, after appearing on Things Like This Happen in the World, there was one way to quantify the buzz.
The sales figures for Sunlight Painter.
Yoo Min-ah checked the sales data on her computer and let out a scream.
"M-M-Manager! Sunlight Painter's sales are up 20 times from last week! Even combining all six volumes, this is insane!"
Unfortunately, there was no one to cheer along with her. The Songi Media genre novel team still only had three staff: Assistant Manager Yoo Min-ah, Manager Kim Sung-ho, and Sora, who was sitting nearby listening in.
When volume 1 came out, it hadn't even sold a thousand copies. But now, Sunlight Painter was moving 5,000 copies per volume. Korea's publishing market was small. Selling 3,000 copies per book was generally considered a success—the break-even point after printing costs and overhead.
In that sense, Sunlight Painter was a commercial hit. And with word-of-mouth spreading, more sales were guaranteed. Bookstores were starting to display Sora's Sunlight Painter in prime spots. It was only natural to showcase the books people loved.
"What's with all the fuss? We saw this coming."
"B-But still...! I didn't expect it to explode like this."
Volume 1 had only been out a short time, but the serialization pace was blisteringly fast. Sora had banged out nearly three volumes straight before the broadcast, making it possible.
"Sora...! Your book's selling like crazy! Doesn't that feel amazing?"
"Yes, it does."
Tap tap—!
Sora gave a half-hearted reply while listening to Yoo Min-ah. She was still working on her novel. Reading the room, Yoo Min-ah pouted.
"Feels like I'm the only one excited..."
"We've got mountains of work ahead. Can't get too hyped yet."
"Eeeeng..."
At Manager Kim Sung-ho's cool-headed words, Yoo Min-ah made a gloomy face. But she perked up soon enough. Good news was good news. When your department thrived, the staff benefited. If it flopped, layoffs or transfers were certain.
Sora could understand Yoo Min-ah's feelings. She was still a rookie with barely any experience. Crying like a chick was par for the course—younger than Sora's past-life age, even. Add in Sora's eight years in this life, and she could go toe-to-toe with Kim Sung-ho purely on "experience." Age-wise, anyway.
"What work? Can't we just cheer Sora on while she writes?"
"Sigh..."
Kim Sung-ho let out a deep breath at Yoo Min-ah's question. Fair enough—she was still green.
Then he rattled off his response like a rapper spitting bars.
"First, head to editing and manage the reprints and schedules. Track inventory depletion rates, communicate with the printer immediately. Compile errata and reader feedback for Sora's Sunlight Painter. Notify marketing and PR to push press coverage... And tell sales to reallocate stock by bookstore. More copies to the hot sellers. And..."
Kim Sung-ho kept going for a while. Yoo Min-ah plugged her ears with her hands.
"Got it, got it~!"
"Mountains of work, huh."
Sora clicked her tongue listening to Kim Sung-ho. When a book sold well, the tasks piled up like a landslide. She almost missed the days when sales sucked.
Like that, Sora finished her daily quota and headed home. On the way, she spotted dozens of people recognizing her. Only two or three actually approached, but she felt the stares. At least cyberstalkers weren't a thing yet—no YouTube or that nonsense.
Dodging people made her late. Mom and Dad were surely waiting, so Sora quickened her pace. They wouldn't eat without her. No need to worry them.
Arriving home, Sora felt the blood drain from her body.
The door was open.
And Dad was rubbing his hands, begging someone. Sora knew who. The loan shark who barged in constantly. But seeing Dad plead like this never got easier. Mom stood behind him, tears streaming silently.
Sora ran over. Dad worked so hard—he shouldn't have to act like this.
"Hold on!"
"S-Sora!"
"What the—?"
The loan shark ignored Sora. Kids couldn't do squat, he figured.
"Hey, Tae-yoon. You gonna pay up or what? How many more years we gotta wait?"
"N-No, the interest is just too high... Please, just a bit more time..."
"You take out a loan shark loan and expect low interest? If it bugs you, don't borrow."
Sora stepped in front of Dad.
"We'll pay it back! That's it!"
"Huh?"
The loan shark snorted at her.
"You know how much it is, kiddo? We're being gentlemen here, but that's got limits. Dragging it out like this? We can't stay polite forever, got it? You were on TV—must've gotten paid. Cough that up and we're square."
The loan shark dismissed her like easy prey and left. No smashed furniture or violence this time. But he wasn't above it entirely. Verbal abuse counted too.
Tae-yoon and Da-som turned to Sora.
"Sora... Mom and Dad will handle this, so don't worry, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sora."
Even caught with their dirty laundry out, Sora's parents showed no shame. They couldn't cry or crumble in front of their kid. Besides, Sora was mature and sharp beyond other children.
Sora sighed deeply at the sight.
Time for a serious talk with Mom and Dad. Hiding it like this wouldn't solve anything. Even if the loan shark was the bad guy, they'd borrowed the money fair and square. He wasn't acting out for nothing.
"Dad. Mom. Let's talk."
This was one time Sora desperately wished for a drink. True talk came with alcohol, they said. Nothing loosened up a heavy mood like booze. Of course, at eight years old, she couldn't drink—and her parents sure wouldn't buy it for her.