I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

It was the use of facial muscles.

Actors inevitably had what people commonly called a “habitual grain.”

No matter how many different characters they layered over their own skin, there were habits that couldn’t be hidden.

The mannerisms that made an actor look unmistakably like that actor.

Among those, Eun Baekhap had a distinct grain—slightly parting her lips, then mixing just a bit of air into the voice that followed.

‘Lowering the gaze, then quietly lifting the eyelids again.’

This was the place to choose the child actor for .

Rather than showing her perfect Yeon Huijae, Gi Juye chose to offer a preview of the Yeon Huijae that Eun Baekhap would someday show.

‘One of the things the public judges most coldly is the sense of dissonance between a child actor and the adult version later.’

Episodes 1 through 4 served to introduce the characters’ personalities, the background of the work, and the story and message that would unfold.

And most masterpieces secured the audience’s hearts firmly from episode one.

‘If the child version overlaps naturally with the adult....’

Taeseok was already a character who would have to carry Yeon Huijae’s photo in a necklace. Watching how far Gi Juye had calculated, Ji Haebeom smiled.

Yun Hyeonjo had been right. It was interesting. A smile he couldn’t quite hide mixed in.

“Later, I’ll pick one for you.”

Just that single line—I’ll pick one for you later—made Gi Taeseok seem momentarily gentle.

“ほんとに(Really)?”

Excited, Huijae asked if he meant it. She raised one hand neatly to her lips, unable to hide her joy.

Watching her, Taeseok nodded.

“Well, it ain’t like there’s only one or two white flowers. Apples, spirea—white flowers are everywhere you step. There’s dozens of ‘em. Most of ‘em look pretty similar anyway.”

Huijae held out her hand. Thumb and pinky extended, the other fingers carefully folded.

It meant promise.

Even if words didn’t fully connect, these small things did.

Even without speaking, the two of them could understand each other.

“Okay. Well done.”

Ji Haebeom gave a light round of applause. His large hands met with a clear clap. The other judges’ applause rang out noisily.

“Hey! That was good!”

“Right! She’s a carbon copy of Eun Baekhap!”

Amid the noise, Ji Haebeom looked toward Han Yeoreum.

Her image as Seoryeong was already too strong. And her opponent had just shown a card that could easily ride along with that image.

The judges caught the message instantly, emphasizing the name Eun Baekhap as they spoke.

‘So what will ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ Han Yeoreum show now?’

Director Ja’s pen, which had been scribbling something on the script, came to a stop.

“Han Yeoreum, then. Please begin.”

* * *

The investor on Gi Juye’s side pressed his lips into a tight, straight line.

‘Let’s see how good she really is.’

Gi Juye did even better than expected. Mimicking Eun Baekhap’s grain was a perfect joker.

Han Yeoreum looked uneasy.

Then it happened. Han Yeoreum stepped half a pace back. The hem of her pure-white cape fluttered faintly.

“On the way, the tree, uh....”

The same line—but the intonation was different. Han Yeoreum’s “uh” carried a double meaning.

As if a girl accustomed to Japanese was hesitating or dropping particles like -e, -ga, -ne—dragging out her words.

Like a uniquely Japanese filler.

“I saw something pretty hanging on it.”

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the left side of the ceiling, as if she were digging through her head for words she knew. Han Yeoreum’s fundamentals were just as neat.

But she was different from Gi Juye, who felt pinned in place like a butterfly under glass. Her gaze was free.

Han Yeoreum’s shyness was expressed through avoiding eye contact.

“What was it. Where did you see it.”

“When I was in the car... when I looked over there.”

She changed the line slightly. Using “over there” instead of “outside.”

Her gaze, which had been aimed up to the left, slowly dropped to the floor. When she lifted her eyelids again and looked forward, the way she looked at Ji Haebeom wasn’t simple shyness.

There was the curiosity of a girl who wanted to get closer to someone.

“It was so, so white I was surprised. But... I, わからない(I don’t know), sorry, I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s called.... If you おしえて(teach) me, I’ll be happy.”

She altered the line again. And as she did, she took one step forward.

As if slowly closing the distance between them.

Han Yeoreum’s footsteps didn’t echo on the floor. They were quiet movements.

“You’re asking me to tell you the flower’s name?”

“Yes.”

She nodded a couple of times. Her blunt-cut bob swayed lightly at her jawline. White Huijae was slow to speak, forming sentences in her head before explaining them in an unfamiliar language.

“It was really white. きれい(Pretty)—no, it was pretty.”

“Must be an apple blossom.”

“Really?”

At Taeseok’s words, Huijae stepped forward once more. As if she couldn’t hold back her curiosity. Her body moved first, instinctively, and it felt natural.

Unlike Gi Juye, Han Yeoreum’s voice came from closer to her mouth. Not deep and gentle, but light and easily scattered.

Her pronunciation was accurate, but her voice was small, mixed with a lot of air.

‘...Is that why? The closer she gets, the better I hear her.’

Unlike Gi Juye, who felt like she was being heard through a monitor and speakers, Han Yeoreum was using this space like a stage in real time.

“I dunno. How’m I supposed to tell you something I didn’t see. It’s just a flower. A flower. I wasn’t asking because I didn’t know the word.”

Because she had just stepped closer, Huijae’s voice had sounded a bit louder—but now it shrank again.

“...I know that too. 花(flower)....”

A few sharp-eyed investors suddenly noticed.

If Gi Juye’s Yeon Huijae used facial muscles, Han Yeoreum’s Yeon Huijae used distance.

The voice that had come close a moment ago grew small again. A discouraged voice scattered into the air.

“But saying it is hard. It’s not that I don’t know.... I just want to know.”

Even though she was close, the lowered voice created distance. As if she might drift away again at any moment.

“Later, I’ll pick one for you?”

Ji Haebeom asked bluntly. It was clearly different from how he’d spoken to the previous Huijae. Even the speed of his delivery had changed.

This time, his words carried urgency. And it wasn’t an offer.

It was a question.

Like someone trying to stop a person they’d just grown close to from slipping away.

“ほんとに(Really)?”

Huijae asked again. She didn’t smile. Instead, she blinked and clasped both hands over her chest.

As if to show anyone watching that her heart was pounding fiercely.

“Well, it ain’t like there’s only one or two white flowers. Apples, spirea—white flowers you trip over everywhere....”

Gi Taeseok changed.

Like a boy who’d grown shy again at the thought that they might get closer. He had no composure.

“There’s dozens of ‘em. Most of ‘em look pretty similar anyway.”

He wasn’t explaining anymore. It was closer to rambling, afraid the conversation might stall like it just had.

Then it happened.

Huijae took a few more steps forward. She held out her hand—right up to Taeseok’s nose.

She even lightly waved it, as if asking for a promise.

They didn’t need words. He couldn’t not understand.

‘What—can she come this close?’

Gi Juye’s investor looked up at Han Yeoreum as she approached. For a brief moment, tension flashed across White Huijae’s face. As if she couldn’t quite believe it, she tucked her lips inward and bit them.

Staring straight at Taeseok.

Ji Haebeom reached out. He hooked his finger around her slender, white pinky and pressed his thumb down firmly.

That was the moment.

Huijae finally smiled.

A face of relief, as if she could finally believe what Taeseok had said.

“...Well done.”

Ji Haebeom greeted her, still not releasing their linked fingers, looking up at White Huijae.

* * *

“Alright. We’ve seen both of you act once. Next, we’ll do a light script reading.”

The air in the audition room grew heavier. Everyone looked serious. The numbers unfolding before my eyes pressed down on my heart.

[Take a Sip of Butterbeer to Speak Foreign Languages Naturally]

▶︎Detailed Description: For natural acting, you need to be good at foreign languages too. English, Japanese, Chinese, Russian! Why not try using an item that helps you speak even languages you’ve never encountered before—smoothly?

Usage Time: 02:13

Tick tick tick tick—.

Time passed quickly. The item I’d used by spending my points was already past its halfway mark.

‘No matter how hard I practice Japanese, I can’t beat someone who’s built skill over years.’

Gi Juye’s Japanese was better than expected. As expected of an idol-turned-actress—someone who’d sung on stage knew how to use her vocal cords.

‘The vocalization itself is different from an actor’s, but she more than clears the baseline.’

Gi Juye sounded convincing as she delivered fluent Japanese lines. Director Ja nodded as he listened to her script reading.

Now it was my turn.

Usage Time: 01:34

The remaining time on the item kept shrinking. The lines I had to say grew longer, one by one.

‘Please.’

Usage Time: 00:56

‘Please.’

Usage Time: 00:38

“By the way, Yeoreum, where did you learn Japanese? You’re really good.”

At that moment, Ji Haebeom spoke to me lightly, as if teasing, while I was wound tight with tension.