I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

“Alright, then. Stand up and hold out your hand.”

“My... hand...?”

“When your desire is at its most desperate, the effect is strongest. Hurry.”

Urged on by Seoryeong, the lady slowly rose and held out a hand she wiped on the hem of her skirt.

Seoryeong then pulled a small gourd flask and a blade from inside her clothes.

“It’ll hurt a little. Bear with it.”

Grasping the lady’s hand, Seoryeong drew the blade straight along the lifeline.

“Ugh....”

A pained moan slipped through the lady’s clenched teeth. Bright red blood traced the lines of her palm and dripped into the gourd. Seoryeong pressed the stopper in firmly and tucked the blood-filled flask back into her bosom.

“I’ll take my payment for saving you with this.”

“What do you intend to do with it?”

“A secret. And this is far enough for the send-off. You should go now.”

“...Next time! May I see you again?”

“Who knows.”

Without a trace of hesitation, Seoryeong turned her back on the lady and walked away.

“At least tell me your name!”

But Seoryeong answered only by lifting one hand and giving a small wave, bidding her final farewell.

On the road where Seoryeong vanished—and even the sun disappeared—the lady stood there blankly.

She was like a mirage.

* * *

Just as entered production, began filming as well.

Several of the lead actors had just returned from an overseas location shoot in Hong Kong. With the production pouring money in without restraint, the staff was large and the scenes lavish.

“I need a lip touch-up.”

This was the Risentra Condo on the outskirts of Gyeonggi—an upscale resort often used when dramas or films wanted to depict the upper class.

In this dazzling setting, Gi Juye was especially sensitive, as it was her first shoot.

‘I heard they’re running around in the mountains over there. Fuck—can’t even compare to this place....’

Fusion historical dramas chronically suffered from questions of authenticity. They were easy targets for criticism as being light or childish.

But Geum Bitgang and Noh Jeongyeon had neatly filled that weakness.

The mere fact that Geum Bitgang chose it as her comeback project gave weight.

Knowing that all too well, Gi Juye bit her lip again, barely even registering that she’d just fixed her makeup.

“Juye...! Your lips...!”

The makeup artist tried to stop her, but all that came back was irritation.

“Ah, I can fix it again before we shoot!”

“No, I mean... you said you wanted photos before the shoot. Should we take them later?”

“Forget it! You’re annoying. Just take them now!”

There was no pleasing Gi Juye’s whims.

‘Whoever cast her really did a great job....’

Watching her snap, the staff inwardly marveled. Gi Juye’s role was the youngest daughter of a construction tycoon who’d grown fat on private lending.

Wearing a high-end, deep wine-colored dress, Gi Juye flicked the tip of her shoe.

“My shoes.”

As if by habit, the coordinator knelt and fastened the ankle strap. Once she stood, Gi Juye strode across the set.

‘SNS promotion matters too!’

She planned to take photos in the middle of the set and upload them.

‘This is the kind of role I have. Acting’s all more or less the same anyway—and the senior actors will set the mood on their own.’

Gi Juye already believed she’d deliver a passable performance. Once the red light on the camera came on, acting was something she did every day.

‘This is better than wasting time on half-baked lessons. Proper promotion.’

The beloved youngest on set. Securing early buzz. Advertisers lining up over Gi Juye’s fashion.

‘This is my power.’

But the corner of the set was in an uproar. Every woman there had a hand over her mouth.

‘What?’

Through the staff, Gi Juye’s eyes met Joo Junseo’s—his head standing a full head taller.

‘...What is that....’

Before she realized it, her mouth fell open.

* * *

In an alley across from Apgujeong Galleria Department Store, lined with stylists’ offices and sponsors, a scream burst through a window.

“You’re insane! Insane!!! Say that again—what did you just say?!”

Ryu Risa, clutching a loudly printed shirt, stared with her eyes wide. She couldn’t believe it.

“Pull something famous for wedding bands. Size doesn’t matter. Pick whatever goes best with the piercing you’re trying to put on me.”

Ryu Risa let the shirt fall to the floor.

“Joo Junseo, you—.”

“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not that.”

Joo Junseo frowned irritably.

“And you can find out what Gi Juye took from sponsors, right?”

“Well, sure. A few calls and I’ll know. Why?”

“It can’t overlap with any of that. It has to look like there’s absolutely no connection.”

“Ah—. Got it.”

Ryu Risa lifted her phone and started making calls. A few minutes later, a list of the sponsored items that had gone to Gi Juye came through.

“Then, unni, pick based on this. And one necklace chain.”

“Just the chain? Not the necklace?”

“Yeah. To hang a ring.”

Joo Junseo nodded briefly. At that, Ryu Risa burst out laughing.

“You’re really drawing a hard line, Joo Junseo.”

“Quit laughing.”

Clothes weren’t just something you wore. They were devices that briefly explained who a person was.

Even more so in dramas and films.

Someone in a white shirt buttoned all the way to the neck looked conservative and meticulous. Someone in a printed shirt unbuttoned to the chest looked relaxed and loose.

The same went for coat materials, shoe types, whether or not someone wore earrings—all of it explained the character to the audience.

Who this character was.

“Alright, this’ll suit you. You’re going with C.H for the piercing anyway, so let’s keep the ring simple.”

Ryu Risa held out an H-brand wedding band. A clean silver ring engraved with a single H.

“I like the engraving. Let’s go with this.”

What Joo Junseo was doing was drawing a clear line so as not to share even a scrap of narrative with Gi Juye. He was deliberately wrecking the most easily exploitable dynamic—the delinquent and the chaebol’s youngest daughter.

Because Joo Junseo would make it clear to viewers.

Gi Juye’s character and Joo Junseo’s character had zero tension between them.

“Try glasses from the left. Your jawline’s nice, so everything looks fine on you—but let’s go with the best.”

The audience would immediately understand that the ring hanging at his neck belonged to a woman other than Gi Juye.

And few characters were more fun to layer with backstory than a punk with a so-called ‘old flame.’

“How are you doing your hair?”

“I’ll change it every time. For my first appearance, I’ll go with what suits me best.”

Joo Junseo finished preparing to pull the spotlight onto himself in every scene he shared with Gi Juye.

Hair slicked cleanly to one side, black-rimmed glasses, black Gothic-letter tattoos stitched one character at a time across his knuckles, and flashy piercings.

“Joo Junseo’s really clenching ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) his teeth. This is insane—seriously.”

Ryu Risa admired her own masterpiece anew. Whatever Gi Juye had done wrong, she’d definitely managed to get on Joo Junseo’s bad side.

With a face that said he had no intention whatsoever of becoming Gi Juye’s accessory, Joo Junseo fastened his watch.

* * *

On set, the director watching Joo Junseo clapped loudly with both hands.

Joo Junseo’s sharp, glamorous face seemed to melt perfectly into the dark-toned interior—and it shone.

Dressed in an all-black suit, his face stood out even more.

“Junseo—ah, this is it. This face. It’s just good. I felt it in Hong Kong too—your shirt fit is insane.”

The director shook his head, impressed all over again. Behind Joo Junseo, Gi Juye strode forward.

“Director, doesn’t Junseo have too many ear piercings?”

“I think it’s perfect.”

“Then maybe some rings on his hands. He already has tattoos—rings on top of that feels like too much.”

“He wore those in Hong Kong too. They’re sponsored. We can’t take them off.”

Gi Juye’s intentions were painfully obvious. Realizing instinctively that her presence was being devoured, she grew anxious—and it showed.

“Alright, let’s check the blocking once and go for the shoot!”

Ignoring Gi Juye, the director grabbed the megaphone. Gi Juye shot a sharp glare at Joo Junseo. Joo Junseo flicked her a cursory glance, then walked toward the doorway.

With every step he took, staff heads turned.

“Ready—.”

The camera lens captured the two of them.

The staff’s eyes were still on Joo Junseo, not Gi Juye.

Rather than Gi Juye sitting on the sofa in her glamorous dress, it was Joo Junseo standing like a shadow by the doorway behind her who drew the eye.

Gi Juye’s presence was completely swallowed by Joo Junseo’s.

* * *

Today was Noh Jeongyeon’s shooting day on . There were only two scenes where she and I shared the frame: one where Seoryeong grumbled that a deity had fallen before leaving the hut, and another where she discovered Jeongan’s death.

But last night, Noh Jeongyeon contacted me and told me to come earlier.

“Chick! What time do you start filming with me tomorrow?”

“Yes, Professor. From seven.”

“Mmm—. No! Come earlier than that.”

“Do we need to reshoot the hut scene from last time?”

Still confused, I listened as Noh Jeongyeon explained.

“You need to see what kind of end Jeongan—the one you have to live on having lost—meets. That’ll help your acting going forward.”

And now, here I was. Watching Jeongan’s death—blood spilling from her mouth—I finally understood. Jeongan’s clear eyes were bloodshot, red from forcing herself to endure the pain.

In that moment, I knew.

‘...Why she told me to come here.’