I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

* * *

This was Jinhae, five hours from Seoul. The child-actor filming location for 〈The Great Garland〉.

“Actress Han Yeoreum has arrived—!”

The moment I stepped out of the car and saw the surrounding scenery, I couldn’t help but gape.

“Wow....”

〈The Great Garland〉 was truly a blockbuster. Over three billion won had been spent on building the set alone.

Set just after the Japanese occupation, even the portion where the child actors appeared spanned nearly 1,500 pyeong. They had rented an entire abandoned railway line and even replaced all the signboards.

Director Ja’s obsession with recreating the era exactly as it had been was palpable.

“Alright! You’re here? Then take a lap and look around! I’m grabbing coffee!”

As always, Director Ja said what he wanted and disappeared, leaving me free to take my time exploring the set. Even the streetlamps had all been replaced. Lily-of-the-valley-shaped lamps marked the era unmistakably.

“If I exaggerate a little, it feels like a movie set. Right, unni?” 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Just imagining the realism of the scenes made my chest swell. I could finally feel that I had entered a true blockbuster.

“It really does. ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) It’s like they moved that era here as it was.”

Manager Choi stood open-mouthed, looking around. The 〈The Great Garland〉 set was on a completely different level from any filming site we had seen before.

Chinese characters and Japanese script were scattered throughout, naturally expressing the chaos of the times. The railway tracks and handcarts subtly revealed the gap between social classes.

“Alright, let’s go. You need to change into costume and get ready!”

Even as I was pulled along by Manager Choi, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the set.

This was the time when Han Yeoreum could exist as Yeon Huijae. Thinking that all of this was my stage made my heart burn hot.

* * *

The first shoot was inside a Japanese-style photo studio. It was the scene where Huijae had her picture taken to give to Gi Taeseok—a moment in Episode 1 that showed how she was treated by her father, Hanamura.

“Set is ready—!”

It was also a scene that would later overlap with the moment when the successful Gi Taeseok impulsively captured his own image in a photograph.

In that scene, Taeseok enters a photo studio for the first time, as if chasing the lingering trace of Huijae that he always keeps inside his necklace.

Today was not only the first shoot, but also a day when my filming schedule overlapped with Ji Haebeom’s. The entire staff was buzzing with anticipation.

“Alright! Ready!”

A massive black American Ford sedan pulled up in front of the building. A stern-looking nanny stepped out first and extended her hand.

A large sign reading Photo Studio was hung prominently on the building. As a place frequented by the gentlemen and ladies of Kobe, it had an elegant air.

“Please go in, miss.”

The nanny opened the door with restrained movements. Huijae hurried in behind her.

On the left, a Brony camera—famous Japanese brand—was displayed. On the right, a curtain led into a darkroom.

The space, perfectly ordered to a chilling degree, was dim throughout. Huijae quietly turned her head and looked at the photographs hanging on the wall.

Pictures of beautiful women were displayed like merchandise. Women of marriageable age were preserved with flower-like smiles. At the center hung the Emperor’s portrait beside the national flag.

“Welcome. You must be Mr. Hanamura’s party?”

“Yes. This is our young lady.”

“As lovely as I was told.”

The photographer, dressed in a white shirt and beret, greeted the Japanese nanny warmly.

“I heard Mr. Hanamura is returning to his hometown? What a shame.”

“What is there to regret.”

“You’re even taking with you the daughter who brightened Kobe with her beauty. The men of the mainland will surely suffer heartache, won’t they?”

In the mainland just after defeat, was there anyone easier to despise than a Korean?

Though she was the daughter of an influential man, the photographer’s gaze swept over her with thinly veiled mockery.

The fact that they had stopped by a Kobe photo studio in haste before departing for Joseon said it all. She was of marriageable age—no doubt they intended to marry her off quickly once she reached adulthood.

“Though it may be an unfamiliar environment, I trust you will bring much enlightenment to the Koreans, miss.”

A Korean who shamelessly fled Kobe without patriotism immediately after defeat would surely sell his daughter to Joseon men. The photographer sneered darkly.

“Thank you for the encouragement. However, I would prefer you complete your task swiftly.”

Huijae spoke in a gentle, small voice.

Her tone naturally placed him beneath her. As if to say, no matter how much you consider me a Korean, it does not wound me in the slightest.

Watching Yeon Huijae let his words pass as if unheard, the photographer bit his lower lip subtly.

“Okay! Good! Let’s go again—nanny, open the door just a little slower!”

Behind Han Yeoreum as she monitored the previous take, the staff quietly exchanged impressions.

“She’s good.”

“Did she speak like that at the audition too?”

After hearing Yeoreum’s fluent Japanese, they exchanged glances. The camera captured the same scene once more.

Han Yeoreum as Yeon Huijae stood straight-backed, yet carried the refined courtesy of a noble family’s daughter.

Her pale nape, slightly bowed as if looking downward, looked slender. Her eyes lowered neatly, deliberately avoiding direct contact.

“She’s lost some weight. Looks sharper than when I saw her in person before.”

“But it suits her. Huijae.”

The tension of a first shoot belonged to the staff as well. Watching the perfect Huijae before them, their tension slowly transformed into expectation.

They began to believe the production would turn out even better than anticipated.

Filming continued immediately into the next scene. The photographer’s mustache twitched. His vulgar smile was captured intact.

“Yes. Very well.”

He ducked his head beneath the black cloth. The sound of the lens adjusting focus echoed. A faint mechanical click signaled the shutter’s readiness.

Huijae sat upright without the slightest movement.

“One, two, three—.”

Click.

Bright lighting washed over Huijae’s small face, and in that instant, she lifted the corners of her lips into a smile. It was the first time she had shown any expression other than blank composure.

Throughout the silence as they waited for the long exposure to end, she did not change her expression.

Because it had to sell well.

Yeon Huijae’s photograph would be included in the catalog her father would distribute to secure connections in distant lands.

It was a beautiful and chilling smile. The lifted corners of her lips, as if someone had pulled the skin upward by force, were calm and composed.

Expensive and beautiful livestock—Huijae’s image was captured as if trapped within the camera shutter.

The backdrop was a hand-painted pear blossom garden. Before it stood Huijae, wearing a kimono with pale white fabric embroidered with pink flowers.

The photographer, who had been hunched beneath the black cloth attached to the camera’s large wooden body, straightened his back and spoke.

“Yes, it came out well. We will develop it and send it to your residence.”

“Very well. Thank you.”

At those words, Huijae let her smile disappear. As if she had never smiled at all.

She rose and walked a few steps forward in the same posture as before—until she stood directly beside the photographer.

“I have heard.”

Facing the open doorway—where the nanny already held the door open and passersby could be seen outside—Huijae came to a halt.

“They say your master taught photography with great excellence. I have heard much of it.”

“Yes, indeed. He is considered the finest in Kobe.”

The photographer replied with swagger. Huijae nodded lightly.

“Then, as befits a craftsman, he must have given you rigorous instruction. Until your back ended up in that state.”

In a low, almost concerned voice, she returned the photographer’s earlier veiled insult as if offering encouragement of her own.

The photographer knew exactly what she meant.

Because he had not bowed when a customer left.