The Contract
Kim Sung-ho arrived carrying a thick stack of documents. I watched him, along with Yoo Min-ah trailing awkwardly behind with an embarrassed smile.
Kim Sung-ho sat down in the chair in front of me and spoke.
"So... Sora..."
His tone was awkward. A man pushing forty using polite speech with an eight-year-old kid—it had to feel off. And hearing it made me just as uncomfortable. So I said,
"Just call me by name. It feels weird hearing formal speech from someone older than my dad."
It was the natural thing to do. Kim Sung-ho's face lit up at my words. Honestly, he must have felt the strangeness himself while speaking.
"R-Really? Alright. So, Sora, what I'm about to say might be hard for you to follow since you're a kid. But listen carefully, okay?"
"It's fine. Tell me everything. I can understand."
With the mental age of someone over thirty, I wasn't like other kids at all. Contracts might be beyond a normal kid's grasp, but I was reincarnated. Or should I call myself a regressor since I'd gone back in time? It was ambiguous—reborn into the past, after all.
"Man... you really eight? My kid's about your age, just a total goofball with no maturity whatsoever."
"I'm a little different from other kids."
"Got it. Then let me explain in detail. First off, you want to sign with our publishing house, right?"
"Yes."
"In that case, we need to set the contract period. Royalties too, and..."
I listened to Kim Sung-ho for a while. It was only natural I didn't know much about publishing contracts—I'd been a reader, not a writer. I'd scoured the internet for info, but there was plenty new to me.
The conclusion was simple.
Songi Media wanted the contract period as long as possible.
Probably because I was a kid.
If I'd been some unknown adult woman, they wouldn't have pushed for a long term. But I was different.
"To be honest... I really think you're a genius, Sora. I'd love for you to stick with Songi Media as long as possible."
"You don't know what novels I'll write in the future. And I don't think my skills are that great."
"Sunlight Painter alone is insane. A first-grader writing something like that? No one would believe it."
"Really? Okay. But Uncle, I need a lot of money."
I got to the point. Our family's debt was in the tens of billions of won. The kind that couldn't even qualify for personal bankruptcy. Maybe that's why I felt like a money-crazed maniac, desperate to earn. Not through anything illegal or harming others, of course.
"Yeah? Then I can cut you the best deal possible! New authors usually get about 5% royalties. You're new too, but I can bump you up to 10%. And we'll scale it higher based on sales."
"Why the special treatment?"
Unwarranted favors were the scariest. But Kim Sung-ho looked at me and said,
"Every editor who saw you write that novel on the computer firsthand? They'd do the same as me."
Maybe because I'd shown them me typing it right there, he had no reservations.
Well, if your hand's dealt a royal flush straight, no gambler folds. That's probably how he saw me.
I nodded. But one thing still bothered me.
"By the way... Sora, do your parents know about this?"
"Oh, that... You'll have to convince them, Uncle. I haven't told Mom or Dad."
"Sora... if your parents don't approve, it's all for nothing..."
"I'll talk with you. It'll be better if we do it together."
"Yeah, we should."
Mom and Dad were soft on me—they'd probably say yes no matter how I put it. If they refused, I'd have to pull every string to change their minds. It was the only way our family could make money.
I wanted out of that drafty hillside shack and the free soup kitchen meals we skipped for. It wasn't bad, per se, but it sure wasn't good.
If I weren't a kid with an adult mind, I'd have whined to my parents about why we had to be so poor.
Honestly, it felt worse than military winter training. Not that I went—orphan exemption. And now, born a girl, no military either. If I'd been a boy... Good thing I was female, I guess. In Korea back then, guys had to sacrifice their prime youth—early twenties, two whole years—for the draft. Pay was a pittance, like 100,000 won a month. Barely enough for one meal out.
Lee Tae-yoon and Yoo Da-som were Sora's father and mother.
Her father, Lee Tae-yoon, had worked at a small game company. But then Sora was born with a rare disease. To save her, he tried everything.
Sold the house, begged every relative from in-laws to distant cousins like a madman. Took out every loan he thought was his last. Still short. Ended up borrowing from loan sharks. Had to quit the company—sharks showed up harassing everyone.
And day labor paid better than game dev anyway.
The daughter they saved was adorably cute and petite. Worth every sacrifice. Though for a girl, she lacked a bit in cuteness overload.
"Sora's bringing someone home, right?"
Sora's mother, Yoo Da-som, said with a worried look. Her daughter was precious enough to hurt her eyes to behold. And Sora had never once troubled Lee Tae-yoon or Yoo Da-som growing up. She barely acted her age at all. From birth, she'd seemed oddly mature.
From babbling to potty training, way ahead of peers. Intelligence off the charts. Her kindergarten teacher suggested gifted education for their daughter. Said she exuded charisma there, already mastered the whole curriculum.
From language to math—excelled at everything.
"Yeah, honey... hope it's not weirdos."
Lee Tae-yoon had no clue what his daughter was up to. Some publishing employee coming over? He didn't even know why Sora went to a publisher in the first place.
"Why don't you skip the mart job and watch Sora?"
"Honey... to keep her from starving, we both need to work harder. Can't give her treats, but can't let her go hungry."
"Haa..."
Lee Tae-yoon's face fell at his wife's words. As head of the household, he felt guilty for not providing proper meals.
He hated that Yoo Da-som slaved at the mart. Hated leaving Sora alone till they got home. But without a lotto win, no escape from this hell.
He wanted to earn more... but lacked the skills. The debt was crushing for any normal family.
Ding-dong!
The cheap, worn-out doorbell rang. Lee Tae-yoon and Yoo Da-som rushed to open the door. There stood a balding man and their daughter Sora, cheeks flushed from the cold winter wind.
"Mom! Dad!"
Sora looked the same as ever. Just the scary-looking man she brought along. Standing behind her, he resembled a kidnapper. But then Sora spoke.
"Mom, Dad—this is the editor I told you about."
"R-Really?"
Lee Tae-yoon bowed politely to Kim Sung-ho, who looked much older. In Korea, age ruled. Hierarchy by years—hence all the honorifics.
And so Sora and Kim Sung-ho entered the house.