Find the Little Genius!
The entertainment industry was a market of uncertainty. Why? Because a show's success was all about luck—seventy percent luck, thirty percent skill. No matter how well-made a program was, it could vanish without capturing the public's attention. And conversely, something that looked cheap and worthless to everyone could explode in popularity.
Yeah, calling TV an art form felt a bit off; it was more like gambling. Of course, that was just PD Kwon Seong-gyu's personal take. Others could see it as high art for all he cared. He'd decided that was how it was.
He'd been rolling in this industry for over twenty years now. In any other field, they'd slap a "pro" label on him. Sticking around TV for two decades was no small feat. Even factory workers repeating the same tasks got props for twenty years on the job—but broadcasting demanded squeezing out creativity every single day, abusing your brain until it screamed. Twenty years here was monumental.
The Seoul Olympics had been twenty years ago. Back then, Kwon Seong-gyu was just a chirping chick fresh out of school... And today, that "seventy percent luck" adage held true once more.
He got bad news from one of his staff. "Um... PD Kwon, you know the kid we're supposed to shoot this week?"
"What's up? Something wrong?"
"We went for the pre-visit, and... it feels like the whole 'genius' thing is fake. The kid's just parroting stuff his mom made him memorize. Total rote recitation."
"Aigoo..."
The variety show Kwon Seong-gyu was producing, Find the Little Genius!, was exactly what it sounded like: hunting down smart kids. Pairing "young" with "genius" had pulled in solid ratings so far. But the problem was, the stars were kids, not adults. Even grown-ups flubbed lines on camera—kids were bound to do worse.
Mistakes were fine, though. Editing fixed that. The real headache was the parents. Desperate to get their kids on TV, they'd lie through their teeth.
At first, fakers were rare. The show wasn't famous yet. But once it gained traction and decent ratings, the liars multiplied. Out of ten homes, more than half were phonies.
Sometimes he thought selling products would be easier. Goods didn't lie. Keep quality high and the production process honest, and you'd crank out solid stuff. But people? People were the weirdest product—same human being one day, skyrocketing star the next, then crashing into oblivion.
"Quick, scour the internet submissions for other kids. I'll start making calls too."
"Got it, PD!"
The staffer vanished, and Kwon Seong-gyu grabbed his phone. Working in TV naturally built a wide network. You met all sorts every day without fail. In a pinch like this, nothing beat connections.
He dialed a junior PD he knew well. "Hey, it's me. You got a sec?"
Kwon laid out the situation and asked if the guy knew any standout kids nearby.
The friendly junior PD recommended one hard—really hard.
"Oh! There's this kid named Sora. She's the real deal, hyung. She has to be on your show."
"Sora?"
"Yeah. First-grader, but she writes novels. And you know that Immortal Yi Sun-sin drama our network's filming? It's based on a book by this Sora kid."
"No kidding?"
Kwon had a vague memory of hearing the name before. Some kid from another network, maybe...
"Thanks, man. I'll check it out."
He hung up and searched for "Lee Sora." The old saying rang true: to know if you're famous, Google yourself. Hit your name, and if news hits pop up, bingo.
Lee Sora's name brought up article after article. Kwon read them one by one. Time flew, but conviction settled in. A kid with this much press couldn't be fake.
That was how the invitation to appear on the show reached Sora.
-------------------------------------------------
"Sora, you're going on TV again?"
"Yes, Mom."
I told my parents first, of course. Filming without a heads-up would've been a problem. They needed time to prepare.
"What show is it?"
Mom asked curiously.
"It's called Find the Little Genius! I'm going on there."
"Oh, that one!"
Mom seemed to watch it often. She recognized the title right away.
"I love it~ Kids like you come on, and it's so cute!"
Looks like she tuned in for the adorable factor. I told Dad when he got home from work, and he was thrilled too. It was a legit terrestrial broadcast, nothing shady—hard to hate.
Not everyone loved TV exposure, sure. Some begged not to be filmed. But I wasn't like that. The more airtime, the better. Word would spread, and my books would sell like hotcakes.
"Haha! Thanks to you, Sora, Dad's getting on TV too!"
Dad was all in. Good shows held no terror for him.
Filming day approached. A writer came for the pre-visit, as usual. I showed him the real me. Even someone who'd seen tons of prodigies gawked.
"A kid this young writing at this level...!"
If it were wuxia, it'd be like revealing thirty percent of my hidden inner power to my master. The writer reeled from my genuine punch—watching a first-grader craft novels with pure, polished skill that rivaled adults.
Time passed, and filming day arrived. I'd already planned how to showcase myself and justify why a kid like me could write these books.
But one massive hurdle loomed. Not fear of the camera—that didn't faze me. The terror was closer.
"Sora~ Put this on~"
It was Mom's words. I'd begged for simple solids—black, white, clean monochrome. But Mom ignored me, buying nothing but pink-on-pink frills.
Girls supposedly loved pink instinctively, but I was the exception. I wasn't really a girl, after all.
"Yeeees..."
Who could refuse a mom's plea? Filial piety won. I complied.
The mirror showed a cute girl drowning in pink. I struck poses, twisting this way and that. Felt like leveling up a game character—my body, but viewed from outside.
Ding-dong!
The doorbell rang. Our home wasn't a cramped one-room anymore. No shame showing it off, and security was solid. Unlike the old place, vulnerable to break-ins, this apartment had guards patrolling 24/7. The old spot was ground-level—easy window hop. Now we were high up. Scaling the wall? Risky and conspicuous. Guards wouldn't miss a climber.
"Sora, they're here!"
It was a weekend shoot. TV didn't care about weekdays—stations ran 24/7. Weekends were fair game.
Dad, hyped up, chimed in. He took Sundays off now, hanging with Mom and me. Memories build from childhood. I didn't want a dad buried in work, family time sacrificed. Happiness came from being together!
"Okaay~ I'm coming~"
Mom opened the door. Staff crammed the hall, cameras in tow. Back in the one-room days, they couldn't all fit inside. Now, with space, no issue.
"Hello~"
The lead PD greeted us and stepped in. Filming had begun.
Less nerve-wracking than my Stuff Like That Happens in the World shoot. You get used to the spotlight after a few goes.