Skyrocketing Ratings and Overflowing Donations
SBA Broadcasting Station. A large monitor mounted on the wall was flickering. The minute-by-minute ratings graph was climbing at a speed that was, honestly, different from the usual. Normally, it would creep up hesitantly. But not now. It was shooting upward like a stock hitting its daily limit, fast and furious.
"Whoa...!" someone muttered with their mouth agape, like they'd just seen a ghost they weren't supposed to.
"Is... is this number for real right now?" The youngest staffer on What in the World double-checked the monitor. They fiddled with the remote, turning it off and on to refresh, and did it again. But the ratings graph didn't drop. If anything, it surged even higher.
National ratings at 30%. Number one in its time slot. It had crushed the competing network's program. Considering the usual 10-15% ratings, this was an insane jackpot.
The ratings didn't dip; they held steady. And they stayed that way right up until the broadcast ended.
"Waaaaaaaaah!" The first cheer erupted in the office. That was the signal.
"This is insane! Totally insane!"
"Call the station director... get the station director...!"
"No, you idiot, don't call the director."
"Not the director—we need the ad team! With ratings like this, we can slap on premium ads left and right!"
People leaped from their seats. Chairs slid back, coffee cups rattled on desks, but no one cared. All eyes were glued to that ratings graph on the wall.
We did it. We nailed it. PD Choi Tae-young, who had planned the whole thing, slumped down in the back of the office. Even when recording wrapped, he'd been half-doubting. It had turned out well. The edit was solid too—solid enough that he'd stepped in to direct his junior staffers on it.
It was his way of assuaging the guilt over using Sora's story. Of course, since Sora herself had submitted it to What in the World, there was no way he could've scrapped the shoot. She wanted to be on the show. If she hadn't, she never would've applied in the first place.
Anyway, after the edit wrapped, it was too soon to whisper "jackpot." Broadcasting was seven parts luck, three parts skill. Shows you poured your soul into could flop spectacularly, while half-assed variety programs hit it big out of nowhere.
But...
"PD!"
"What? Another issue?"
"No...! We're number one on real-time search right now. Look—our show's name is up there. This hardly ever happens!"
He looked up. A writer was thrusting their phone forward, hand trembling from the sheer thrill of it sinking in.
Choi Tae-young stared at the screen in silence. Then, in a quiet voice, he said,
"We're good."
"Huh?"
"This qualifies as a solid success."
"Gasp...! PD, not 'solid'—it's a massive hit! Dinner party's on tonight, right?"
Choi Tae-young nodded at the writer's words. Tonight, it was his duty to lead the team to a land flowing with milk, honey, booze, and meat. Corporate card, of course.
Viewers who watched Sora's segment were shedding tears, finding her plight utterly heartbreaking. What in the World partnered with external sponsorship groups. Whenever someone with a tough family situation appeared—beyond the weirdos or the super-talented—donations would roll in as a matter of course.
But this broadcast was a cut above. The station's phones rang off the hook.
After hearing Sora's story, people desperate to help had lined up. Their sincere support—cheering her on, pitching in what they could—piled up.
PD Choi Tae-young could confirm it was unfolding exactly as he'd planned. Just being able to deliver good news to Sora was help enough, right? He'd anticipated some buzz when she went on air, but the donation total now dwarfed even his wildest guesses. A kid—and a little girl, no less—created killer synergy. It was three or four times the usual haul from a typical episode. No, at this rate, it might hit tenfold.
"Whoa..."
"Isn't this the biggest ever?"
"First time for me too, on air."
The staff gawked at the staggering sum. It was that unbelievable.
Donations couldn't be pocketed personally, so What in the World dispatched someone. It was for Sora's family, so it had to go to Sora. And that someone was Kim I-na.
Kim I-na headed to Sora's home with light steps. She had good news to share. What would Sora's reaction be upon hearing how much had poured in? The girl was so mature, it sparked real curiosity.
It wouldn't cover all the debt, though. A modest boost, maybe. Still, better than nothing. For ordinary folks, it was an unimaginable fortune.
Knock knock!
Sora's place always struck her as too rundown. At least it wasn't a basement apartment—that would've flooded the second it rained hard. Cracked walls, bugs crawling everywhere. Kim I-na hated to say it, but living here seemed bizarre. She'd have bolted for better digs immediately. Cockroaches and those money-grubbing silverfish? Pure hell for her bug phobia.
"Who is it?"
A familiar voice came through. Unmistakably a child's, but the tone was pure adult.
"Sora, it's me, Na-na!"
"Ah, yes."
The creaky door swung open.
Sora was bundled in thick clothes. Even at home? Compared to her own thin loungewear, it screamed family hardship.
"What brings you here?"
Sora asked, cheeks rosy, with a polite smile for I-na.
"Parents not back yet?"
"No. Dad's doing overtime, so late. Mom said the same..."
"Oh! So it'll be a few hours?"
"At least three or four, I think."
I-na sensed bad timing. Adults needed to be here for the donation talk. Couldn't just dump it on a kid. But angels and devils warred in her head: Tell Sora anyway, pass the info, and bounce. Devil won. Coming back tomorrow or the next day? Too annoying.
Angels countered: Tie it up properly. What if something went wrong? All on her.
"You look like you've got something to say. Tell me."
Hearing Sora's grown-up tone, I-na caved to the devil.
"Your story aired, and donations flooded in. I'm here to explain how to use them..."
"Really? Come in, then."
"Okay..."
I-na stepped inside—for the second time, but it still felt alien. Sora fetched a vitamin drink—a freebie from her mom's mart job—and handed it over.
"Thanks, I'll enjoy it."
I-na sipped, then got to business.
"Sora, listen carefully and pass it to Mom and Dad, got it?"
"Yes."
Sora's reply felt reassuring. I-na laid it all out in detail. No cash envelopes here—sponsorships routed through groups were a maze, especially for a minor. Needed a guardian-named managed account first. Deposits there, then mandatory usage reports. To prevent misuse.
"So, here's how it works..."
I-na explained at length, thoroughly. Sora followed perfectly. Eerily so—no confusion, no furrowed brows.
In the end, I-na covered everything with Sora and left. She double-checked insurance, though.
"Any questions, call anytime, okay?"
"Yes."
Should've done this from the start. No need for angel-devil drama. Just ask for her number next time.