I’d been an editor for twelve years.
Over that time, I’d watched books change people’s lives more times than I could count.
An unknown writer winning a debut award.
A paperback discovered by chance on a bookstore shelf.
An essay that exploded in popularity because someone quoted a single sentence online.
The books that truly succeeded always had one thing in common.
Luck.
Or at least…
they used to.
⸻
“Good morning.”
The weekly editorial meeting began as usual.
A large monitor displayed the list of new releases scheduled for publication that day.
The editor-in-chief closed his folder.
“One last item.”
“The New Writers Award.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted.
This year’s competition had received 4,321 submissions.
Only five manuscripts had reached the final round.
In the old days, this was where the judges would begin debating.
Not anymore.
“What does Oracle say?”
One of the editors asked.
A junior staff member tapped a few keys.
A single title appeared on the screen.
Yesterday, Transparent
Projected Sales: 980,000 copies
Film Adaptation Success Probability: 92%
International Translation Potential: Grade A
Probability of Winning Major Literary Awards: 89.4%
“That’s… overwhelming.”
Someone muttered.
Its official name was Oracle—
the Publishing Analysis AI.
It evaluated readers’ ages, values, current social trends, writing rhythm, vocabulary, emotional pacing, plot structure, payoff quality…
Countless variables.
Then it predicted exactly how well a book would sell.
Since Oracle had been introduced…
Every winner of the New Writers Award had been Oracle’s top recommendation.
“Any objections?”
The editor-in-chief looked around the room.
No one raised a hand.
Neither did I.
⸻
After the meeting, I returned to my desk.
A plain envelope was waiting for me.
There was no sender’s name.
Inside was a thick stack of manuscript pages.
Only the title had been printed.
You Only Smile When It Rains
It had arrived after the submission deadline.
According to the rules, I didn’t even have to read it.
I could return it unopened.
I reached to seal the envelope again…
Then stopped.
Just the first page.
That was all I intended to read.
⸻
Before I knew it…
Lunch break was over.
I turned another page.
Then another.
I finally looked at the clock.
3:00 p.m.
When I finished the final page…
I couldn’t move.
It was extraordinary.
Not polished.
Not structurally perfect.
There were rough edges everywhere.
And yet…
When I closed the manuscript, something remained inside me.
It had been a long time since I’d felt that.
Not…
“This will sell.”
But…
“Someone needs to read this.”
⸻
I picked up the manuscript and walked to the editor-in-chief’s office.
“Excuse me.”
He looked up.
“What is it?”
“This manuscript arrived after the deadline…”
“I know.”
“But… would you read it anyway?”
He smiled wearily.
“That’s against the rules.”
“I know.”
“What does Oracle think?”
“I haven’t submitted it.”
He fell silent.
“…That’s not like you.”
“Maybe not.”
After a long pause, he accepted the manuscript.
“I’ll keep it for one night.”
⸻
The next morning, he was already at his desk when I arrived.
The manuscript lay neatly beside him.
“You read it?”
He nodded.
“I did.”
“And?”
A small smile crossed his face.
“I haven’t stayed up that late reading a novel in years.”
My heart lifted.
Then he quietly added,
“But…”
“I let Oracle read it too.”
He turned his monitor toward me.
The analysis filled the screen.
Projected Sales: 2,374 copies
Film Adaptation Success Probability: 0.4%
Probability of Winning Major Literary Awards: 1.1%
“…No…”
I stared at the numbers.
Unable to look away.
“Oracle has never been wrong.”
The editor-in-chief spoke softly.
“That’s what makes this so difficult.”
I looked down at the manuscript once more.
The story that had moved me so deeply the night before…
Now sat silently on the desk.
Its pages closed.
Waiting for someone…
who might never read them.