Drama? "Song of the Sword..."
Drama? "Song of the Sword..." Kim Sung-ho stared at the title of the book Sora had written. A proof copy had already been printed. Of course, since it was just a proof, the cover was blank except for the huge letters spelling out Song of the Sword. There was no other design at all. It was just a plain, generic look. If they put it out in stores like this, it probably wouldn't sell at all. Readers cared a lot about a book's design. No one would pick up a book with a blank background and just a giant title slapped on it. They'd think it lacked effort in a heartbeat.
The title itself was fine. No one clueless about writing would end up at this publishing house. Genre novels were still a mystery to him, of course. But pure literature like this? After ten years in the industry, Kim Sung-ho had built up enough knowledge to rival any expert. He couldn't compare to a professor with a fancy degree, but for the average person, his insight was more than enough to qualify as professional.
"Hmm..." It was a novel about the life of the hero Yi Sun-sin. Most people wouldn't dare touch that subject. Call it the boldness of a child. The name Yi Sun-sin alone carried immense weight. As long as the portrayal stayed positive, it might work, but any slip into negativity, and readers would swarm like angry bees. He was that revered—and deservedly so. One of the heroes who saved Joseon from defeat at Japan's hands. And crucially, he commanded the navy. Back then, with land routes underdeveloped, nearly all goods moved by water. Holding naval supremacy like Yi Sun-sin did was a monumental feat. He was the man who turned the tide of war.
Kim Sung-ho read Sora's Song of the Sword straight through. Feeling it still fell short, he read it three more times. He had the soul of an editor and a critic within him. The critic in him sensed tremendous value in this novel. He had no idea how she did it, but the language was breathtakingly beautiful—yet accessible. To capture Yi Sun-sin's anguish so poetically, while revealing both his heroic and human sides. Even a savior of the nation remained an ordinary man at heart.
The editor in him saw things differently. Yi Sun-sin was overexposed to the public. Chewed up, dissected, and savored a thousand times. Could it feel fresh? Probably not. Everyone knew the story already. That's why sales potential was murky. He couldn't read the public's mind. If it were that easy, no publishing house would ever go under. Gauging hearts remained impossible, even in this cutting-edge age. But letting a gem like this rot on the shelf? Unthinkable. And he trusted the content. A novel this well-crafted wouldn't flop. He had to stake his editor's pride on making it succeed. Only then could he fulfill his duty.
Kim Sung-ho took the book to upper management. Luckily, Songi Media's executives viewed Sora's work favorably. With their star genius from the company, they felt at ease. Plus, her TV appearance had boosted promotion nicely. Even President Kim Yun-sik had grinned seeing his company on air. Whatever her secret, she still carried positive buzz. And Sunlight Painter was selling like hotcakes. Volume 7's release had ramped up sales even more, story progression or not. It might hit 10,000 copies per volume soon. Huge for genre fiction.
Song of the Sword got published. But the world wasn't that kind. Books were unpredictable commodities. Same ink inside, but content dictated wildly varying sales. Pure literature, rarely read, struggled hardest. Songi Media pushed promotion hard, but it fell short. Word-of-mouth barely hit the 3,000-copy benchmark for a modest success. A university professor's speech praising its beauty gave a slight bump. Critics raved too.
Sora had anticipated this but still felt it stung. Even for unread pure lit, these numbers seemed too low. And it was one of the novels she'd enjoyed most. Online, praise poured in— a rare treat, a bolt of blessing for Korean literature. But literary merit and quality meant little if sales tanked. To the masses, sales were the true measure. Critics and editors would rage at that capitalist lens, but that's how the public saw it. Was pure literature truly invisible? Was that why Korean lit sank like a listing ship? Should they have entered it for awards? Would that have changed anything?
But an answer came from elsewhere.
Tack-tack!
Another fun day. Novel-writing awaited, of course. For Sunlight Painter, she always kept a stockpile ready for publication. Just in case something happened to her, so Mom and Dad could thrive on it. Eight years old—what could go wrong? Life twisted unpredictably, though. With reincarnators like her out there, gates opening or fantasy worlds beckoning felt less far-fetched. Reborn once, why not? Fantasy realms might love this lit—new literature for new folks! Pure imagination, though. Actually going? Total despair. No computers, no modern comforts. Prime starvation era, especially in this frail kid body.
"Haa...!"
Sighs filled the office. Sunlight Painter sailed smoothly, but Song of the Sword's slump was the culprit. I looked at Yoo Min-ah, who was sighing away, and said,
"Editor... do you really need to sigh like that?"
"But... this masterpiece of yours isn't selling! It's too much!"
She seemed stressed about Song of the Sword's poor sales. I offered some comfort.
"Don't worry too much. Won't it blow up someday?"
I wanted to sigh too, but I felt it would catch on eventually. In my old era, it had won awards—not deep-sea fodder.
"The boss was total low-pressure too..."
Yoo Min-ah glanced at Kim Sung-ho's empty desk. He'd been away more lately, busy with errands. He still showed for meals and before clocking out.
"Hing... If only someone big promoted Song of the Sword massively!"
"Yeah..."
Maybe hit What in the World again? But reruns wouldn't satisfy, and public interest would tank compared to before. People skipped repeats anyway.
Ring-ring!
Then Yoo Min-ah's phone rang.
"Yes, Songi Media, Yoo Min-ah speaking."
"Yes...?"
"Yesssss?!"
She shrieked. I plugged my ears at the piercing sound. After chatting, she hung up.
"Why scream like that?"
"S-Sora...!"
"Yes?"
Why the pause? But her words hit like a storm.
"Sora, they want to turn your novel into a drama!"
"Ehhh?!"
I couldn't help screaming too.