I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

* * *

The first shooting scene was the conversation between Pi Chaewon, who had escaped to the rooftop to avoid the overwhelming reality, and Jun, the male lead who encountered her there.

“Okay! Let’s check the skin tone—.”

The camera, the lighting, and the movement paths of the actors were all fully set. Following a staff member’s guidance, Yeoreum moved to the center of the filming set. The massive camera lens stared at her as if it were about to swallow her whole.

“No need to be nervous. It’s the first scene, so just relax, relax~.”

When Yeoreum briefly looked at the camera and then met Director Jang’s eyes through the monitor, he burst into a broad, carefree laugh.

‘No matter how much preparation you’ve done, a rookie is bound to show rookie traces.’

Director Jang, who knew how worn-out Yeoreum’s script was from use, found her nervousness endearing and cute.

‘Even if she has good vocal projection, using the body can feel awkward... the first scene can have a few NGs, whatever.’

He planned to cover her generously. Director Jang loosened his thoughts.

‘Finally, my camera! Mine! Filming only me!’

But Yeoreum was not feeling anything like nervousness at the moment.

“Going for the shoot—!”

For Yeoreum, who had always needed to blend into some group just to earn a single camera shot, this was the first time she had a camera assigned entirely to herself.

‘First lead role, first camera, first shoot....’

Pressing all those emotions down deep in her heart, Yeoreum closed her eyes for a moment.

‘Let’s do well.’

When she slowly opened them, the staff who saw her spoke up.

“Sound, cue.”

“Camera, roll.”

Tak— the sound of the slate echoed across the set.

“Action!”

With Director Jang’s call, the filming began. Yeoreum took a deep breath, then trudged forward. Her posture was straight enough, yet still gave off an exhausted impression.

“Ah....”

Pi Chaewon was not a talkative character. The elements that made up a pure romance manga were generally a sunshine-type heroine, a wounded male lead, and extras whose every line began and ended with romance.

“What is this, seriously.”

And here, Pi Chaewon was the gloomy transfer student, a new character. She existed as an extra inserted to wedge herself between Hina and Jun, but because she had her real-world consciousness, she had dead-fish eyes.

“...Should I drop out.”

Unlike Hina, Pi Chaewon brought laughter by behaving bluntly and indifferently. Gathering immaturity, cheesiness, and B-grade vibes all into one, she forced viewers to take a step back and see things from afar. That was the very purpose of Pi Chaewon’s existence.

“My uniform looked weird from the moment it was like this.”

Yeoreum roughly loosened the ribbon hanging around her neck. Then she unbuttoned one button as if feeling stifled. Her series of actions flowed smoothly, completely natural.

“...Cut!”

Director Jang stared at Yeoreum gazing blankly over the rooftop railing with dead-fish eyes, then finally shouted cut. Yeoreum looked at him with bright, lively eyes, as if none of it had happened.

“That hand movement was a bit off, right? Should we try making it a little more mechanical? With your shoulders moving as little as possible.”

Yeoreum approached Director Jang and listed the parts she felt she hadn’t done well enough.

Director Jang nodded at her. It was amazing how a rookie filming for the first time could pinpoint acting adjustments so well.

“Right. With no movement in the shoulders, it brings out more of that cynical feeling.”

“Then let’s go with that this time!”

Watching the two of them, excited, Choo Gaeul swallowed hard. Such simple movements, such simple lines—yet Han Yeoreum drew all the attention.

* * *

「A Second Glance (C)」

Offline or online, what a star needs is the gaze of the public! Whether it’s your real appearance, your photos and videos, or even your voice—people will stop once more to focus on you.

‘Ah, this skill is good.’

I strengthened the corners of my lips, feeling the skill sparkling above my head since earlier. It kept wanting to rise, which interfered with the dead-fish concept.

My solo shot progressed without even a single NG. Now Director Jang clapped at anything I did.

‘So this is... the taste of being the protagonist?’

I felt like crying. It was so good. I finished the take from several angles.

And finally, the next cut. The scene where I exchanged lines with Joo Junseo. Joo Junseo, who had been waiting, stepped on the railing and climbed onto the rooftop.

“Ready—!”

Director Jang followed with “Action,” and I turned around while holding the railing. It was the moment Pi Chaewon, who had been muttering to herself, encountered Jun. I locked eyes with Joo Junseo, who was lying on the rooftop.

“You woke me up.”

A decent performance. In response to his flat tone with no rise or fall, I answered in kind.

“If you wake up from a sound like this, why sleep on the rooftop?”

“....”

Joo Junseo said nothing. Instead, he didn’t step on the railing and simply jumped down. His body movement was natural.

‘Maybe because his legs are long. He lands stably.’

Then he approached me in long strides. A model really was different. From this one scene, I felt like I understood why he had been cast. Joo Junseo stopped exactly at the spot I’d checked earlier. He tilted his head slightly and looked at me.

“The rooftop is my space.”

It was truly the kind of line you’d only hear in a pure romance manga. Yet when Joo Junseo said it, it sounded pretty good. I wasn’t the only one impressed—Director Jang let out another exclamation.

* * *

There were only two scenes. And yet the atmosphere on set began turning positive.

“Joo Junseo’s better than I thought.”

“Did you see him walking just now? As expected of a model.”

As they prepared the part where Gaeul had to appear, the staff exchanged light chatter. Gaeul, who had to enter the upcoming scene, grew increasingly anxious.

‘What the heck. It really wasn’t anything special.’

But Gaeul could feel it too. The chemistry between the two was too good for a B-grade web drama. As they continued filming the same scene several times, it gradually looked more and more convincing.

“Slating—.”

It was the scene where Gaeul would burst in between the two emotionless characters, shifting the mood energetically. She heard the slate clap and the take number being called. Gaeul tightened her grip on the rooftop door handle.

“What, what~. You two were up here alone? I’m hurt—really—!”

It was the heroine’s entrance, armed with loveliness as if using it as a weapon. Each step Gaeul took made her pink hair flutter like cotton candy. Gaeul grabbed Yeoreum’s arm and shook it.

“What were you talking about? Tell Hina too, tell her toooo~!”

That was when it happened. Yeoreum, who was supposed to stand still, wavered. She moved along with the direction Gaeul was shaking her arm.

‘...Huh?’

Panicked, Gaeul’s face stiffened.

“Cut—!”

It was clearly an NG. Gaeul, who hadn’t expected to make such a mistake in her first entrance, looked at Yeoreum. This wasn’t in the script. It was all because of Han Yeoreum.

“That was good. Let’s go again just like that.”

But unexpectedly, Director Jang didn’t scold Yeoreum once. Instead, he praised her acting and suggested they keep it exactly as it was.

‘If we do that, the spotlight goes to Han Yeoreum again...!’

The heroine Hina, who was supposed to look cute and lovely, was slowly being eaten alive by Han Yeoreum.

Gaeul had a feeling this wasn’t the end. A signal flashed in her head, warning her that this was only the beginning.

* * *

‘I hope Pi Chaewon, the fluttering paper ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) doll, goes viral.’

Avoiding Choo Gaeul’s gaze, I lifted my hand along with Director Jang, who gave me a thumbs up. The emotionless, indifferent Pi Chaewon character had gone through slight revisions after a discussion between me and Director Jang a few hours earlier.

‘Indifferent, detached, and add lethargy on top of that.’

It was the most you could squeeze out of a rigid, mechanical person. Add a touch of patheticness, and it completes a role that feels more alive. I smiled slightly while looking at Choo Gaeul.

‘So why did you try to suppress me.’

Thanks to Do Gyeoul, there’s something I learned properly. The current Han Yeoreum was not only healed of actor-disease, but was thinking only about one thing: how to get even one more second of attention.

‘You picked the wrong person.’

Hina, Gaeul—none of them would even be remembered after I was done.