I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

* * *

“Can you really eat all that, student?”

“Does Han Yeoreum starve or something? You should get it packed, packed. This is why middle-aged guys these days are the worst. You only think about yourselves!”

“No! You can’t talk like that! Our team is family, family!”

Myeong Jeha watched Dok Gomin mercilessly pummel Director Jang as they stepped into the café directly across from the studio.

‘Bringing her really was the right call.’

For someone so thoughtful and self-sacrificing, a stubborn, single-minded type like Dok Gomin was the perfect match.

‘And Dok Gomin has an exceptional eye for aesthetics. She’ll help with the overall scene composition, too.’

Dok Gomin stacked bagels into a mountain and swiped Director Jang’s card without hesitation.

“Mm-hm! The cakes here are cute too!”

Even after charging the card, she stared at the cakes in the display case with sparkling eyes.

Director Jang, who had instantly become a “self-centered middle-aged man,” shuffled over to Jeha’s side.

“Students these days are terrifying, Jeha-ssi....”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged her along. I’ll cancel it and pay with my card.”

“No, no. You did well bringing her. I was stuck, thinking on my own, hitting a wall. I know that look—people wondering what kind of big shot Jegal Rok brought in....”

Under the bright café lighting, Director Jang’s face looked even more gaunt. The word hollow fit him perfectly.

“I’ve been thinking too much about everything. Ugh... no, forget it. What a disgrace, unloading this on someone as young as you, Jeha-ssi. Haha.”

“I like the script, though.”

“Right? Right? The moment I read the original work, the inspiration just hit me. If only I could see it play out right in front of my eyes....”

He swallowed, his face a mix of tension and anticipation.

“If that happens, it’ll definitely become a legendary scene in TVM history. Yeah.”

“Who are you thinking of for Yeomga? She’s just as important as Seoryeong, and I feel like Yeomga will be the real kick.”

“Exactly! That’s why, aside from the stable Plan A scenario, in Plan B she won’t be wearing a mask in the final gut scene. I’ll pressure her properly from episode 1 through 15.”

Plan A—the ideal script Han Yeoreum was currently memorizing—had the shaman Yeomga wearing a Hahoe mask.

It was a device representing her desire to smile at the moment her long-cherished wish was fulfilled.

Yeomga had lost her smile the moment she even offered her own child as a sacrifice.

“As you probably felt too, Jeha-ssi, if Yeomga wears a mask in Plan B’s final scene, the spotlight won’t go entirely to Seoryeong. It’ll be a contrast scene—emotionless Yeomga being even more chilling, and Seoryeong pouring out her emotions.”

Jeha smiled, thinking of someone who would want to play Yeomga.

“Director, please give me one copy of the script too. The Plan B version.”

“I don’t mind giving you one, but... why?”

“I want to show it to someone who could play Yeomga. The ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) script is too good to settle for the stable Plan A.”

“Hm... now you’re really making me waver. I keep getting greedier.”

Director Jang ran a hand over his rough face. His conflict—between ambition and caring for his actors—was plain to see.

“Hey, old man! Let’s go already!”

“...Student? What’s all that behind you?”

“Let’s go see Han Yeoreum, come on~.”

“Student? Student!”

At some point, Dok Gomin had hoisted a stack of packaged bread as tall as herself and walked out of the café without even looking back.

Ding-a-ling—.

The café bell rang out, unusually light and clear.

* * *

Director Jang took the heavy bags of bread from Dok Gomin, splitting them between both hands. Somehow, the weight on his heart felt heavier than the bread itself.

‘What am I even doing, getting swept up like this... why do I keep hoping?’

Just memorizing all those lines in thirty minutes would already be impressive. The final scene was Seoryeong wagering her entire life.

Her love and hatred for Yeomga, her guilt toward Jeongan, her love for Myungdo, compassion for the world he tried to protect, anger at herself for clinging to life after once resolving to die, grief for those who had died.

‘Fitting all that emotion into such long, difficult lines....’

Even veterans would struggle with a performance like that.

‘Still, since she wants to try, I should at least watch once, then suggest going with Plan A.’

Sharing the explosion of rage with Yeomga would probably lessen the burden.

With that resolution, Director Jang opened the studio door.

“Yeoreum-ssi—did you get through the script?”

“Yes.”

Something was off. Yeoreum’s eyes were red. She looked at Director Jang with a composure even more serene than before.

“If you read it like a table read, that’s fine. Shall we try?”

“No. I’m okay.”

Yeoreum snapped the script shut with a soft thud.

She placed it on the table.

“I memorized it.”

It was pages upon pages of monologue. Memorizing all of it in thirty minutes was shocking enough—but there was no hesitation in her gaze.

“Director, could you turn off the lights?”

“Huh? You want to do it with the lights off? Alright, I’ll turn them off.”

At Yeoreum’s request, Director Jang flipped the studio switch.

Click—.

The room was instantly swallowed by darkness. Only the breathing of the four people could be heard intermittently.

Breaking the silence, Yeoreum’s voice rang out.

“You bastard Yeomga... a shameless wretch without equal under heaven....”

A murky presence seemed to seep through the air.

Yeoreum was performing real acting. This was far beyond a simple script reading.

“I will question you for every sin you’ve committed while wearing human skin.”

A voice trembling with anxiety and rage, yet with precise diction, an atmosphere sharp as frost.

In that moment, Director Jang felt as if he had become part of a gut ritual.

As if a real shaman were receiving a spirit descent, Yeoreum began to chant. Her pitch was ambiguous, eerily unsettling.

“Chaste ghost who lived in seclusion in the palace annex—

Drowned ghost who fell into the water of the white-dew altar—.”

The damp scent of earth mixed with the stench of blood seemed to throb in his temples.

“Beggar ghost who begged before the great gates—

Traveler ghost who wandered the roads of distant lands—.”

It felt as though anxious drumbeats and the thin wail of a flute were faintly echoing in his ears.

Something could be sensed beyond the darkness.

“Great heavenly lords, venerable beings who govern all living souls....”

At some point, even the sound of breathing from those present disappeared.

“Dark hell, white-tiger hell, charcoal hell, yellow-spring hell, metal-sand hell, earth-sand hell....”

They stood frozen, as if swallowed whole by the darkness, having forgotten even how to breathe.

And more than anything, what overwhelmed Director Jang was Yeoreum’s direction.

Eternal darkness, your life severed at this very moment.

Eternal darkness, your life severed at this very moment.

Eternal darkness, your life severed at this very moment....

One moment in a child’s voice, the next in an old man’s, then in a grown man’s—Yeoreum cursed Yeomga that way.

It felt as though countless vengeful spirits existed beyond the darkness.

‘...What is this...?’

Until Yeoreum’s monologue ended, Director Jang remained rooted to the spot.

Thump— thump— thump—.

His heart pounded.

A sharp tingling ran up the back of his neck. The greed he had barely suppressed began to rise like smoke.

Even if it crushed him with pressure, even if he couldn’t breathe, the desire to create the ultimate scene made his head spin.

Was the person standing there really Yeoreum? He even began to doubt that.

Click—.

Myeong Jeha reached for the switch. The room flooded with light.

Yet no one spoke. As if words had been forgotten.

“Yeoreum-ssi....”

Only after a long while did Director Jang finally manage to call her name.

“Th-that just now, I mean—.”

There was so much he wanted to ask. How she memorized the lines so fast, where she learned to curse like a chant, how such acting was even possible.

But he pushed all of that aside and asked the part that had chilled him the most.

“That voice—what was that just now?”

Yeoreum answered calmly, as if it were nothing special.

“The spirits who lost their lives because of Yeomga all came to the ritual. Even the ones playing the instruments get possessed. One by one, they collapse, and the remaining spirits take over Seoryeong’s body to curse Yeomga... that’s what it felt like.”

As if such an interpretation were only natural.

“....”

Patting Director Jang’s shoulder, Dok Gomin said,

“I told you not to doubt the eye of genius Dok Gomin.”

“Yeah... the student was right....”

“You’re not a civil servant—why obsess so much over stability? If you’re an artist, you need the guts to never compromise!”

* * *

“What is it?”

While checking the rough cut of , Director Gong—the Chungmuro civil-servant-type—rubbed the back of his neck at a strange sensation.

“What’s wrong, Director?”

“It feels like someone just cursed me... Yeah. I really should’ve bowed properly at that ritual table back then. My knee hurt, that was the problem....”

“Here he goes again.”

The editor holding the mouse shook their head.

“I told you, it’ll easily pass the break-even point. Alright, last time, I’ll list the reasons again. No more after this.”

“Mm....”

Seeing Director Gong droop, the editor smoothly reassured him, listing why would succeed.

“JC matched the release perfectly for summer, right? Jegal Rok’s division head is even coming to the rough screening, right? Manager Ma said he’s producing merch, right? Yun Hyeonjo and Detective Kwak’s acting is insane, right? And my editing is god-tier, right? There’s no way it flops.”

It was a speech they gave four times a day in the editing room. Apparently unsatisfied, Director Gong asked for more.

“Hearing the same thing is getting old....”

“Hah! Seriously!”

The editor clenched the mouse, then forced a deep breath.

“And hey, if we just add auto-subtitles, her lines come out clean. I’ve been watching her since her web drama days—her diction’s solid.”

Yeoreum appeared on the screen at just that moment.

Only then did Director Gong stroke his stubbled chin and smile.

“Right? It’ll do well, yeah? No problem making a sequel?”

“I told you, no problem.”

In Director Gong’s mind, a sequel script for took shape. Influencer 1 appearing again. Imagining Han Yeoreum slipping in like a perfect supporting accent wasn’t difficult at all.

* * *

A few days later, five copies of the script lay atop a stately walnut desk.

“Huh....”

Episodes 1 through 4, and the final episode 16. After taking in every last page, the old man removed his glasses and smiled.

“That Jeha kid sent something interesting, huh?”

A professor at Daehan Arts General University and an old colleague of Geum Bitgang—Noh Jeongyeon’s lips curved upward.

In the box Myeong Jeha sent was the script, along with a short invitation card.

[To Jeongan]

Another identical copy of the script had been prepared. Inside it, the same kind of card read—

[To Yeomga]

For his longtime friend and colleague, a veteran preparing for retirement—

A throne had been prepared for Geum Bitgang.