Our New Home
Royalties had come in again. Sunlight Painter was cruising along smoothly. Song of the Sword had its drama adaptation greenlit for production, but it hadn't aired yet. I figured sales would explode once it did—my old world had been the same way. In any case, right now, Sunlight Painter was my lifeline. Novels were like a pension you built up slowly. Write one volume, then two, then more, and as long as they kept coming out, sales would trend steadily upward—assuming they were popular, of course. If not, it was the opposite. But the more volumes you had, the bigger the windfall when new readers jumped in. They wouldn't start at volume 10; they'd buy from 1 and work their way up. Sales multiplied by ten. That was happening with Sunlight Painter. After appearing on Can You Believe It? and getting plugs across various media, its sales were bound to skyrocket. So the royalties were hefty this time—about ten million won, I'd say. Over 10,000 copies of Sunlight Painter sold in that short span. With eight volumes out, that came to roughly 1,300 per volume. With all that cash rolling in, the first thing on my mind was obvious.
"Mom! Dad! We're moving!"
A clean break from cockroaches as roommates and rats scurrying down the street. I was sick of it. If I didn't have an adult mind in this body, I'd probably be seriously messed up. Kids from rundown neighborhoods like this had a high rate of going astray. Good family environments paved the straight and narrow; bad ones led down dark paths. Not absolute, but statistically speaking. We had to get out fast.
Mom and Dad looked a bit troubled at my declaration. Discussing house stuff with a little kid like me felt awkward, I guess.
"Sora..."
Dad's gentle gaze softened me for a second, but I doubled down.
"Move! Move! MOVE!"
I tied on my red headband like a protester and flopped onto the cold floor, rolling around dramatically. Classic kid tantrum tactic. And it worked like a charm.
Mom glanced at Dad. "Honey... for Sora's sake, we should find a nicer place now. And we can afford it."
"Jeez... I wanted to save up more first..."
"Move!"
Dad nodded at my antics. I sprang up the instant I got the green light—the floor was too chilly for proper rolling anyway. And I had the secret key to easing their worries.
"Mom! Dad! Look how much money I made!"
I flashed my bankbook. Mom had set up the account with her as legal guardian.
"Huh?"
I hadn't told them about the royalties, so their shocked faces were priceless.
"Sora...! Where'd you get all this? From your novels again?"
"Heh."
I grinned at their reactions. Seeing them so stunned made me glad I'd taken up writing. Without my skills, they'd be living hell—paying off debts till they dropped dead, like some tragic novel protagonist. But that didn't matter now. I had the talent to rake in cash.
"Songi Media sent royalties this month!"
"Sora...!"
"Good girl, our daughter...!"
They pulled me into a hug. I patted their backs. They weren't slacking either—working hard to raise me and keep things going, even after my rare disease burned through our savings. They never lost hope. Lucky us. With debts that massive, dark thoughts could've crept in, but they stayed strong. Resilient folks. I wriggled in their embrace with a goofy grin, gasping a bit for air.
In Korea, there were three main ways to get a place: outright purchase, jeonse (a big deposit with no monthly rent), or monthly rent. Others existed, but they weren't common. Purchase required the most upfront cash but gave you full ownership—super appealing, and way fewer ongoing costs like taxes compared to renting. Jeonse meant handing over a huge deposit to the landlord instead of bank interest, getting it back in full when you left. Money lost value yearly, but it was still the best for regular folks among the options—assuming house prices kept rising. If they didn't, it turned into a dud deal, and sure enough, my era saw tons of jeonse scams. Monthly rent was lowest risk: low deposit, just pay each month. Great for short stays, but the constant drain hurt.
We went with monthly rent. No cash for buying or jeonse, and our current hellhole wasn't an option.
Mom, Dad, and I toured real estate offices, hunting for something decent. We found a perfect apartment for our family—early 20-pyeong size, a bit small. But way better than our old roach-and-bug-infested dump. Honestly, our previous place wasn't fit for humans. We made it work somehow, but still.
Our new nest took shape after all that house-hunting. From cracked walls and cockroach floors to a proper home.
"We really don't have much stuff..."
"Yeah, honey."
Mom and Dad marveled at our meager belongings. A simple delivery truck would do. Single-room life meant we couldn't have much anyway. Normal moves needed massive trucks; ours fit in a regular one.
"Hyah!"
I was scrubbing away in our new place. Mom and Dad pitched in too. Not brand-new, but solid. No way were we losing this haven. Kid body or not, I tired fast. While wiping the walls, Mom noticed and smiled brightly.
"Aigoo, my girl~ Cleaning hard is great, but take a break?"
"Mooom... just this last bit..."
"Dad and I got this. You rest, Sora."
"Uuu..."
My 120cm height was a penalty here—couldn't reach properly. Back as a guy, I'd been above average. Now, as a first-grade girl? Tiny. No roller coasters for me; most had height limits. Luckily, previous tenants left it clean, so no deep scrub needed. We kept the interior as-is—it was fine. And renters couldn't remodel freely anyway.
Mom, Dad, and I stood in the living room, gazing at our new home.
"Wow!"
Not huge, but total satisfaction.