I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

The scene of the script reading, where acting relied solely on voice—no costumes, no lighting, no set—still felt vivid enough that the images seemed to form on their own.

“Wow, sunbae. Does a voice have picture quality or something?”

“Right? That kid sounds completely different.”

It wasn’t only Choo Gaeul who felt it; the PR team staff whispering behind them clearly noticed too.

It felt as if Han Yeoreum alone was the true protagonist.

「Eyes That Look One More Time (C)」

Offline or online, what a star needs most is the public’s gaze! Whether in real life, in photos and videos, or even in a passing voice—people will stop for you and focus again.

In an instant, Joo Junseo was buried.

Among all the cast members reading, only Han Yeoreum’s lines rang out distinctly.

“Since earlier.”

“So you were just watching?”

“It’s not my business.”

“...True.”

Her projection alone was different. Each time she tossed out a line with casual indifference, her voice filled the reading room with perfect clarity.

‘What the...?’

Choo Gaeul was flustered.

She had barely trained for a few months, yet she was using accurate diaphragmatic breathing.

“Gaeul-ssi, Gaeul-ssi, it’s your turn!”

“Ah. Yesyes!”

Startled, Choo °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Gaeul even forgot it was her cue.

“Wh-what—sorry! I’ll do it again.”

Her hurried, stumbling delivery caused her pitch to crack.

“Gaeul-ssi, no need to be nervous~.”

“Aigo, making so many mistakes today!”

Low chuckles spread around her.

Normally, a rookie actor’s cracked line would be brushed off as a cute little mishap.

But Choo Gaeul felt an instinctive sense of danger.

“Whaaat~. The two of you were alone here? I’m soooo jealous—!”

That she might lose to someone playing an entirely plain, featureless character.

“What were you talking about? Tell Hina toooo!”

At her overdone cutesiness, Director Jang and the writer exchanged glances.

‘What do we do? She’ll probably be even worse on set.’

‘We’ll just have to give strong directing.’

Meanwhile, Team Leader Seong’s gaze had been fixed on one place from the start.

‘Han Yeoreum...’

The character Yeoreum played had no dramatic emotional swings—she was flat, deadpan.

In the edited version, sound effects and narration could enhance her character, but this was the raw reading session.

“Well then, next time you get trapped instead....”

Even so, Han Yeoreum brought the character fully to life. Without editing, without effects—nothing.

Whether she had memorized the whole script already or not, every line flowed naturally as she delivered it.

“I’m going downstairs. Later, say I was in the nurse’s office, not the rooftop. I don’t want an unexcused absence.”

Even her breathing between phrases felt calculated down to the second. Team Leader Seong reached a simple conclusion.

‘She’s good.’

Director Jang and the writer seemed to agree as they whispered beside him.

“She’s going to be even better on set, right? No—honestly, I want the edited cut already. God, that voice is good.”

“Same here... I want to see her with full hair-and-makeup as soon as possible....”

Everyone in the reading room found themselves waiting for it without realizing.

“This insane shoujo manga... what even is this club activity.”

Waiting for Han Yeoreum’s next line.

Even though they were all staring at the same script, the scene delivered through Han Yeoreum’s mouth made them curious.

* * *

“Annoying—!!!”

Choo Gaeul screamed inside the van after her schedule ended. Her manager, who had never seen her like this, was startled.

“Gaeul-ah, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird. I think I messed up the reading today!”

Her manager tilted her head.

Aside from her slightly overacting at the beginning, she hadn’t been bad.

‘She seemed just like usual.’

Assuming it was simply a sensitive actor’s emotional spiral, the manager let out a small laugh.

“Eyy. Everyone did fine though?”

“...Everyone? Who’s everyone?”

“Joo Junseo wasn’t bad for a former model. And the female lead was good too!”

At that, Choo Gaeul remembered how stable and grounded Han Yeoreum’s breathing had been beside her.

And how her own lines got mushy because she kept running out of breath during longer phrases.

‘It was just a reading, whatever...’

Choo Gaeul decided she would practice the script nonstop until the first shoot.

On set, things would be different.

‘Viewer reaction is what matters most.’

No matter how hard someone tries, the effect of styling is undeniable.

Choo Gaeul thought of her own salon in Cheongdam—one of those places only famous celebrities frequented.

“Manager-nim, I want to ask the writer something.”

She felt she could target the web drama’s main viewer age group properly.

“Oh, okay. What is it? I’ll pass it along.”

Choo Gaeul decided to sacrifice the hair she had been saving for her next role.

“I want to ask what they think about me dyeing my hair pink.”

So viewers would associate the heroine of 〈The Cherry on the Parfait Belongs to the Heroine〉 directly with Choo Gaeul.

“If it’s a shoujo heroine, the hair color has to be different first.”

Choo Gaeul wanted to be the heroine.

* * *

“Ah, come to think of it, I don’t have a signing bonus.”

Company? None. Manager? None. And most importantly—money?

“I don’t have any...!”

No money.

Broadcast hair-and-makeup costs tens of thousands in one go.

‘Even running around doing logistics part-time jobs leaves me in deficit.’

Hair and makeup fees were the kind of huge sum that made my inner delivery-worker willpower roar and then die instantly.

Idols and actors get separate discounts, but for no-name, unaffiliated Han Yeoreum, that’s a fantasy.

“What do I do...”

Was there at least some decent place? This was bad.

‘Of course I memorized every salon that famous actors go to....’

But blowing over a hundred thousand won in just a few shoots was impossible.

‘Even if it’s far from the set... I need something cheaper....’

While checking if any salon had messaged on Ustar for free sponsorship DMs, I came across a photo on my feed.

Youstagram

Styling for the upcoming web drama. Rookie actress Choo Gaeul-nim visited us.

We set her up with a lovely color perfect for a heroine :)

Likes 809 Comments 77

“...Huh?”

For a moment, I didn’t recognize her because she looked so different.

Choo Gaeul had pink hair that looked like she’d stepped out of a manga panel.

-@LeeYoonji Hey, the person you said was pretty is posted here

-Huk she’s so pretty... may I ask the price too? I want the same style, how many bleaches does it need T_T?

˪DM sent :)

-The makeup is sooo pretty♥︎ TT_TT isn’t she a real-life peach~ model-nim lens info please

The comments were extremely positive. Many people wanted to copy Choo Gaeul’s styling.

‘...If this happens...’

In a drama like this, styling is impossible to ignore. “What she’s wearing,” “what shoes she’s wearing,” “what bag she’s carrying”—all of those generate attention together.

‘Choo Gaeul is going to siphon off my influence!’

Pi Chaewon’s character appears drab in the beginning. If Gaeul overwhelms me stylistically, she’ll steal my share. For rookie actors, buzz is everything.

‘Not everyone watches the drama.’

No matter how well someone acts, public attention isn’t fair. Some people stick in memory; others pass by unnoticed.

‘This is bad.’

And Gaeul is with a fairly solid agency—meaning her hair-and-makeup quality is high.

‘How do I beat that pink cartoon hair?’

Feeling hopeless, I let out a sigh.

“Haa....”

“Hey. What’s with you?”

Dokgo Min, working on her computer, narrowed her eyes into triangles.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you couldn’t hear.”

“You’re right behind me—how would I not hear you!”

To avoid getting caught by Myeong Jeha, I had been hiding in Dokgo Min’s studio during every free period.

At this point, I was practically glued to her.

“I’ll sigh quietly from now on.”

“What’s going on? Tell. Your. Un. Ni.”

She emphasized the word “unni” with extra enthusiasm, clearly liking the title.

‘Come to think of it, Dokgo Min has a pretty wide network.’

Maybe thanks to her natural talent, even with a disastrous personality, she knew a lot of people.

‘If I act pitiful, something might come out of it.’

Calculation complete.

I let out a bitter smile like a tragic college student.

“There’s a web drama I’m supposed to shoot... but I have no money.”

“What? They’re making you pay to film a drama? Hey. That’s a scam! People like that should be thrown in jail!”

Fuming, Dokgo Min shot up from her seat.

Maybe I explained it too simply.

“No, no, not that. Celebrity hair-and-makeup salons are expensive... and I can’t get discounts or pay later.”

At that, Dokgo Min stopped.

“Discount... deferred payment... salon....”

Then she examined my pitiful beggar-face up and down.

“Follow me.”

She grabbed her phone off the table.

Pitiful beggar tactic: success.

‘If something comes out of this, great.’

With that half-hopeful mindset, we arrived at—

“...You want me to go in here?”

A place far, far beyond what I expected.