I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

The guards who witnessed the scene screamed. Lift the tree! The Chief Adjutant is in danger! Hurry! The urgent cries reached Seoryeong as if heard underwater, muffled and distant. She stared blankly up at Myungdo. Tears that had pooled at the corners of her eyes streamed down along her temples.

The massive tree was hauled up by several men straining together.

Crushed beneath it, Myungdo desperately braced his body. He forced strength into his elbows so that Seoryeong would not be pressed even a little. To the very end, he protected her.

“Cough....”

Blood spilled from Myungdo’s mouth. Even so, his eyes searched her face, trying to make sure she was safe.

As if the weight of pain were nothing compared to the weight of worry he carried for her.

“....”

No way. Even seeing it with her own eyes, Seoryeong couldn’t believe it. Her eyes blinked slowly, dazed. Myungdo’s gaze upon her was unbearably gentle.

It’s not your fault. It’s just that my divination came true.

She needed to tell him that....

Her eyelids kept drooping. She tried to blink them open again. The Seoryeong he longed to see grew steadily blurrier. The focus scattered.

Thud. Still holding Seoryeong protectively, Myungdo collapsed sideways, as if tipping over. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

“....”

Seoryeong could not say a word—her lips only parted and closed as she stared at him. It must hurt. It must be unbearable. She hurriedly gathered him into her arms.

The tree had stood in the very place where the curse ritual was performed, /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ saturated with foul energy. Myungdo’s back was pitch-black, as if scorched.

Dark, congealed blood seeped from the back that had been crushed beneath the cursed tree, soaking the ground.

The five-blessing cord of Seoryeong’s that had been wrapped around Myungdo’s wrist snapped. His red blood stained the white cloth.

“...Myungdo.”

For the first time, Seoryeong spoke his name. With trembling hands, she brushed his cheek. But Myungdo did not open his eyes.

She pulled his limp body tightly into her arms. Still, he did not open his eyes.

“Myungdo, Myungdo.... Hic, ah...! Myungdo...!”

Seoryeong cried like a child, as if Myungdo were the only word she could say. Her face was a mess of blood, sweat, and tears as she clutched him to her chest.

“Myungdo, please, ah, please...! No...! Myungdo...!”

Her pronunciation was crushed and broken as she begged, calling the name she had never once dared to speak because it was too precious.

“Myungdo...! Please, please....”

But Myungdo, eyes closed, did not answer.

As if he were dead.

As if this were a farewell that would last forever.

* * *

“Let the criminal hear—.”

Bound with ropes, Seonghwi shook his head frantically. Beneath his eyes, fixed on the palace he had so desperately wanted, dark circles lay heavy. He looked just like the foul things he once commanded.

“The crimes of the criminal Seonghwi are deep and grave. He extorted the people’s wealth at will to satisfy private greed, raised private troops to covet power, plotted rebellion to throw the nation into chaos, and colluded with a shamaness to commit treason. How could such sins ever be fully paid?”

The king sat upon his lofty seat as always. Seonghwi struggled, but it looked no more dignified than a worm writhing. He felt no majesty at all.

“Thus, by law, we judge the criminal Seonghwi—strip him of his title as Grand Prince.”

“No, you mustn’t—no...!”

“Confine him to prison, where he shall never see the light again.”

Bang! With the crash of the door, Seonghwi was thrown into the cell. Slamming into the wall, he scrambled up and smashed his head against the bars.

“You bastards! Insolent fools! I will remember this! The day I become king—do you think I’ll let you live?!”

Clang, clang-clang. Seonghwi slammed his forehead against the bars until blood ran. But beyond the door, there was no one.

“Hm—. Hmhm....”

From a wooden box placed near Seonghwi came a song. Inside the box, densely wrapped in talismans, Yeomga sang softly. It was a song he had heard somewhere before.

Jogwi—just like the tune his mother used to hum. Yeomga was singing a lullaby.

Inside her confinement, she was once again thinking of her child.

Like a curse.

“Aaagh!”

Seonghwi screamed, trapped in the same space as Yeomga.

* * *

The nation moved busily on. The king and Yunhwi worked to rebuild what had been destroyed.

“From Heavenly Vein Land to Hyeonunji, Jinchyeonji.... Assign new inspectors to the nine sites above....”

They had to recover the national treasury Seonghwi had siphoned away and tend to the people there. Yunhwi, fulfilling his duty as Crown Prince, decided to personally tour the areas once more.

And this time, he would examine the newly appointed officials with his own eyes. Now, more than ever, the people had to be properly cared for.

“I trust you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Having received his orders, Yunhwi mounted his horse. But he could not immediately ride forward. He looked back again and again. His face was heavy with worry.

Myungdo still had not opened his eyes.

* * *

Seoryeong stood beside Myungdo, whose upper body was wrapped in bandages. Just as he had once done for her when she fell ill from the rain, she soaked a cloth in cold water and wiped his forehead. The white cloth touched his pale face.

“....”

Since that day, Myungdo had not woken even once. With her hair cut short, Seoryeong curled up quietly and kept watch by his side.

No matter how much divine power she poured into him, nothing changed.

Seoryeong did not cry. But her eyes looked as if they might.

Behind Seoryeong, who gazed down at Myungdo who would not wake, the sun set and rose again. Before she realized it, her cut hair had grown long.

As if to prove that the world kept moving even without Myungdo.

Autumn leaves tumbled, snow fell, and until bare branches showed once more, Seoryeong never left his side. She only watched him in silence.

She could not bring herself to say she loved him—it felt too sinful.

* * *

Seoryeong went to see the king seated upon his tall chair. In the vast study, he looked somehow lonely. Observing proper courtesy, Seoryeong knelt.

“Thank you for your kindness all this time.”

“...You are leaving?”

“Yes. I must.”

Seoryeong smiled faintly. The king, who had been looking down at his documents, lifted his gaze to her.

A small, fragile-looking girl crouched there—hard to believe she was the one who had saved the nation.

“If Myungdo never opens his eyes, what will you do then?”

“...All traces of the curse have vanished. When he regains his strength, he will rise again.”

She forced the words out, as if pressing back tears.

“It may be that he cannot wake because I am here. Because this happened on my account.”

Her folded hands trembled finely against the floor. Just hearing Myungdo’s name made her heart feel constricted.

“Before you go, speak one final wish. I will grant you anything.”

The king said so, and Seoryeong replied,

“...Please look after the weak. I ask for nothing more.”

At that answer, the king slowly rose from his seat. Step by step, he descended until he stood before Seoryeong.

The king bowed.

“Your Majesty...!”

“Thank you.”

It was a bow offered to a hero who had saved the nation at the cost of her life.

* * *

Seoryeong came to see Myungdo one last time. Lying on the white bed, he breathed steadily, just as always.

She smiled quietly. A heavy sleeper herself, Seoryeong had never once seen Myungdo asleep. It had always been the opposite. Because of that, she could now recall every moment she shared with him, even without him.

Myungdo smiling, stern Myungdo, angry Myungdo, sorrowful Myungdo, Myungdo running toward her calling her name—and even Myungdo with his eyes closed.

“....”

Seoryeong took him in with her eyes one last time, as if vowing never to forget. Then she slipped something beneath his hand.

“Take care....”

It was the ornament he had once given her, saying it was the thing he cherished most—an ornament he had received from his late mother. Returning it to him, Seoryeong turned away without looking back.

Tap—. The sound of the papered door closing echoed.

The hand clutching the ornament twitched slightly.

* * *

Seoryeong walked on slowly. With a life now devoid of purpose, there was no need to hurry. Her steps leaving the palace were unhurried.

The world that Myungdo and Seoryeong had protected with their lives was peaceful. As if nothing had ever happened.

The bitterness of it made Seoryeong force the corners of her mouth up into a smile.

“Hey now! I’m selling a very goooood item here!”

A vendor grabbed Seoryeong by the shoulder, calling out. Looking at her gentle face, perhaps thinking she was an easy mark, he rattled on without pause.

“For the Five Blessings Festival, buying five-blessing cords is old news! Have you heard of the heaven-blessing cord?”

“Heaven-blessing cord?”

“Ah, it’s called the heaven-blessing cord because it draws blessings down from the sky! With this cord, love will come true!”

Seoryeong let out an incredulous laugh as she looked at the cord embroidered with peach blossoms.

“What, you don’t believe me? Standing in front of a heaven-blessing cord that makes the person you miss come running to you?”

But soon, she stroked the cord with longing eyes. Her wrist felt empty anyway. Thinking she’d be fooled just this once, she took one.

“...How much is it.”

“I’ll give you a special price—twenty nyang—.”

“If you’re trying to fleece me, stop now. I know fair prices these days.”

“T-then, if you buy it with flower shoes, I’ll give you a special price of twenty nyang—.”

Seoryeong had learned many things from Myungdo. How to live honestly, how to help others—and even how to love.

With the heaven-blessing cord wrapped around her wrist, Seoryeong set out once more on a long road. Alone, on the path she had once walked with Myungdo.

Crossing mountain paths and pushing through grass, she arrived at Jeongan’s grave.

“Jeongan, I’m here.”

She set down the newly bought flower shoes in front of it. The grave was overgrown with weeds, but bathed in sunlight, it did not look lonely. If anything, it looked warm.

“You were right. Everything followed its natural course.”

Seoryeong shuffled her feet before the grave, nudging the soil with her toes. She had so much she wanted to say to Jeongan. Yet she couldn’t say a single word. Her eyes reddened.

“...Thank you.”

Only after a long while did she speak.

“I’ll... live well.”

Just to say those few words, Seoryeong forced a brave smile. Despite the lifted corners of her mouth, her eyes were still lonely.

With that, Seoryeong turned away from Jeongan’s grave. Left behind where she stood was a single pair of flower shoes that no one would ever wear.

That was when the camera caught the sound of approaching hooves.