I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

The letters that had surfaced on the dark screen slowly faded away, and the sound of bells drifted in from far off.

Clink— clink— clink....

A box abandoned at the foot of the mountain came into view. Once more, the small, thin hand of a child scraped the box—kreeek.

Watching the screen, Reporter Wi swallowed unconsciously.

And then, a moment later, the opening came crashing in like madness.

The sound of a flute and droplets of blood, a hand writing talismans, the cries of a bound man, “Mother! Mother!”, a mother who stitched embroidery as if she didn’t know her son at all, bang—, the violent clash of a gong, rotted ritual ropes, and wavering shadows.

While still reeling from that overwhelming sense of terror, the overlapping ghost stories vanished all at once.

—Huff... huff....

It was the Crown Prince’s bedchamber, faintly suffused with a bluish glow. The Crown Prince, his entire body drenched in sweat, stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.

It was peaceful, as if everything he had just seen had been nothing more than an illusion.

—Your Highness. Did you cough?

A human voice came from beyond the door.

The reassurance that there were other people outside—other humans—slowly settled in.

Only then did the Crown Prince come to his senses. Wiping his brow with a finely trembling hand, he answered,

—Yes. Bring the rinsing water.

Clatter—. When the window was opened, the sound of birds chirping drifted in. It was a peaceful dawn.

Beyond Yunhwi’s bedchamber, bamboo leaves swayed in the wind.

* * *

At the same time, the screen looked down upon a house made of eerily dark, almost blackish-red wood.

The camera moved fluidly, opening the door and entering the house. It was Seonghwi’s point of view.

Kreeek—.

The old wooden door slid open the moment Seonghwi arrived before it.

Inside the wooden door, nothing but rotted ritual ropes hung everywhere. It was enough to make one uneasy, but Seonghwi walked straight ahead as if he cared nothing for such things.

From the outside, the house had certainly looked modest, yet Seonghwi had to walk quite a long distance before finally reaching the threshold.

Kree—ek—.

Once again, without even touching the handle, the door opened on its own.

It looked as though something inhuman had opened it directly for him.

“You have arrived.”

Not a single ray of sunlight entered the spacious room. From beyond the folding screen came the dignified voice of a woman.

Before Yeomga—whose face was not shown—Seonghwi sat in a polite posture.

Gloomy music began to play. It sounded like a geomungo string being slowly pushed from its end, as if it might snap at any moment.

Between those precarious notes, Seonghwi opened his mouth.

“It feels like things are progressing far too slowly.”

Looking somewhat impatient, he seemed to want whatever this was to move along more quickly.

“The greater the matter, the more time and care it requires....”

A soft chuckle came from beyond the folding screen.

Unlike the relaxed Yeomga, Seonghwi was nothing but restless. Pressing his lips inward and holding them tight, he let out a sigh.

“I know. It’s just... what if we miss the ‘right time’ like this?”

Whatever the two were discussing, it was clearly nothing good.

The instant Yeomga’s previously unseen face was caught on screen, everyone instinctively realized it.

“...”

Yeomga, silent, was smiling so wide it looked as though her mouth might tear apart.

It was the grin of a starving demon—drooling as it stared with bulging eyes at Grand Prince Seonghwi beyond the folding screen.

[♨The occult boom is coming, coming—Strange Tales Episode 1 live thread♨]

ヾ(｡>﹏<｡)ﾉﾞWatch under the blanket before sleeping! Let’s go let’s go~

-Ah f***!!!! I screamed!!!

-It’s so damn scary, I feel like I’m going to pass out

-Is Yeomga dead? Is she a ghost? She doesn’t look human TT_TT can someone tell me

ㄴ Isn’t she a crazy powerful shaman who synchronized with a ghost? TT_TT

Comments flooded the thread by the dozens every second. The fire finally caught on the logs that had been stacked so carefully for .

Yeomga—who seemed not human at all—was manipulating Grand Prince Seonghwi, ordering him to send his younger brother toward Heavenly Vein Land.

* * *

“Where have you been?”

“You’re up early. Shall we have breakfast together for once? I have something to say as well.”

Yunhwi shared his morning meal with his older brother, Seonghwi. Perhaps because of the nightmare he’d had the night before, Yunhwi merely picked at the neatly prepared table.

Seonghwi watched his younger brother with concern.

“Is something troubling you these days? Your complexion looks quite poor.”

“Trouble? Father is a sage king, and you, Brother, will surely succeed him and keep this nation at peace. I have nothing to worry about.”

“You rascal. Always saying only what sounds good.”

The bond between the Crown Prince and the Grand Prince—between the younger brother destined for the throne and the older brother pushed aside—was outwardly peaceful.

“You are the one who will become the sage ruler to lead this country, Brother. Now that your health has returned, I should also gradually return to my original place.”

As a child, Seonghwi had been frail, never knowing when he might die, and even his investiture as Grand Prince had been handled by his younger brother, Yunhwi.

Yet Seonghwi, who had fought death day after day, ultimately reached adulthood.

“Do you think His Majesty truly believes that?”

When Seonghwi asked with a bitter smile, Yunhwi nodded solemnly.

“Of course. That [N O V E L I G H T] is why he ordered you personally to look after the people.”

“...Then why does it feel as though he is subtly warning me to know my place?”

“Brother!”

Seonghwi bit his lip gently. For a fleeting moment, the pain of the eldest son who had failed to become Crown Prince crossed his face.

“If that weren’t the case, how could he have sent me so far away from the palace?”

“He recognized someone more capable. He understood that my abilities were insufficient to tend even the most remote villages.”

“Sometimes I can’t shake the feeling that His Majesty made up his mind about me forever when I was young....”

“Please don’t say such things. You know that I have no intention of ascending that seat. That place belongs to you, Brother.”

Smiling with apparent satisfaction, Seonghwi lifted a small porcelain cup and moistened his lips.

In that instant, his eyes slid toward his younger brother with something sly.

With his lips hidden behind the cup and only his eyes visible, Seonghwi looked oddly ill-suited to being called a good brother.

“Then....”

Lowering the cup, Seonghwi spoke slowly.

“If I were to ask you for help, would you be willing to give it?”

“Yes. Of course. You’ve endured so much on your own, Brother. Don’t worry—please tell me anything.”

Yunhwi answered with a smile. His gentle eyes curved warmly. Seonghwi, too, smiled back at his younger brother.

“Good. It’s something I can only say now, but that place was so distant and treacherous.... It took a long time just to get there. Being so remote, life for the people there is difficult in many ways.”

He sighed, worrying for the people. Hearing this, his younger brother also furrowed his brow for a moment.

The farther from the capital one went, the harder it was to endure years of disasters and poor harvests.

“Brother. What should I do?”

“Well....”

A hand with blue veins standing out clearly closed around his younger brother’s hand.

“Go to Heavenly Vein Land.”

Kugung—.

With a sound effect like something collapsing from far away, Seonghwi’s grip tightened.

“While you are away from the palace, I will speak frankly with His Majesty.”

Kugung, kugung, kugung....

The sound, like an approaching earthquake, shook the screen.

“Go there and see for yourself whether the people I have been caring for are well—won’t you?”

* * *

“Ah, damn.... I’m exhausted.”

Along a deep mountain path, a woman dressed as a man grumbled as she walked behind a Buddhist nun.

Unlike the nun’s quiet, orderly presence, Seoryeong chirped complaints like a sparrow.

“Why are we changing residences again! It hasn’t even been that long since we moved here.”

Behind the nun, who carried a modest bundle, Seoryeong lugged a massive bundle wrapped in silk, panting heavily.

From inside the cloth—looking as though it contained half the world—a hairpin slipped out and clinked to the ground.

“My hairpin!”

Seoryeong yelped and snatched it up. Because of the oversized bundle on her back, she strained and pitched forward.

Even then, she didn’t let go of the hairpin clutched tightly in her hand.

“Do you know how much effort I put into that Kim Jinsa guy! Ah.... I missed the big one.... Do you even know how much this is worth?”

The nun slowly helped Seoryeong up as she continued grumbling on the ground. Seoryeong glared, gripping Jeongan firmly.

“Jeongan! Don’t ignore me! That’s all money that’ll become my flesh and blood.”

Only then did Jeongan speak.

“More nonsense.”

“Nonsense? Nonsense? Don’t you know the saying that even a ghost who dies well-fed looks better? I have to die well-fed.”

“Anyone listening would think I starve you.”

“And anyone listening would think you feed me well!”

It was outrageously rude. Even toward Jeongan, old enough to be her mother, Seoryeong didn’t back down an inch, glaring defiantly.

“You eat well enough. Really.”

“It’s always just greens. I’m not a rabbit or a squirrel!”

Watching Seoryeong, Jeongan adjusted her bamboo hat as if she were hopeless, then started walking ahead again.

“We must hurry, so stop chattering and follow diligently. If you behave, I’ll even take you to the market.”

“Market or not, at least tell me the reason! Why are we going to some mountain backwater anyway? Jeongan! Jeongaaaan—!”

“Didn’t I say there’s someone we need to meet?”

“Who? Other than me, there was no one who knew you, Jeongan. You didn’t even have a single friend—so who are we suddenly meeting?”

Looking up at the sky, Jeongan replied,

“Heaven.”

Birds in the mountains chirped cheerfully, as if stirring anticipation of meeting a welcome guest.

“You can see the sky anywhere!”

Seoryeong asked, having crept up almost right beside Jeongan. Jeongan let out a small laugh and scolded her.

“Instead of that hairpin, take better care of your restraint. If it breaks, it will be a disaster.”

At Jeongan’s words, one of Seoryeong’s wrists came into view. Alongside an old wooden rosary bracelet, a strip of white cloth embroidered with lotus flowers was tied around it.

“The hairpin is gold! That restraint thing is just wood.”

“I carved each piece with my own hands. Do you think its value can be compared to gold?”

“Of course not! Who would buy this? It’s tacky, tacky.”

The figures of the two walking along the mountain path gradually grew smaller.

* * *

“Your Highness! There is no path.”

Late at night, Yunhwi’s guards spoke with bewildered expressions.

They kept running into dead ends.

As if someone were blocking them, they were circling the same place over and over.

“...This is enough to make ghosts weep.”

Yunhwi let out a faint, dry laugh, his expression calm. It was strange.

The ominous things from his dreams now seemed to be blocking his path in reality as well.

“I will take a moment to survey the surroundings.”

At that moment, the man who appeared to be of the highest rank among the guards behind him urged his horse forward by half a step.

He was Myungdo, Yunhwi’s loyal retainer and closest friend

When Yunhwi nodded briefly in permission, Myungdo immediately rode back up the mountain his subordinates had climbed.

The cry of a scops owl echoed in the empty space like tinnitus.

Something was wrong. He could feel it instinctively. He realized his assumption—that his men had simply misjudged the unfamiliar path—was mistaken.

Still, Myungdo calmly guided his horse.

From his robes, he took out a small handkerchief and firmly tied it to a nearby tree.

Turning the reins, Myungdo rode a few steps forward, then turned back toward the spot he’d just been at.

“....” 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

The handkerchief he had tied there was gone.

With steady eyes, Myungdo scanned his surroundings. There wasn’t the slightest sign of anyone.

The owl’s cry was strange. The sense of distance was subtle—it suddenly sounded loud, then faded until it seemed about to vanish.

Just as Myungdo, having made his decision, tightened his grip on the reins—