I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

Click.

“Oh? Sunbae?”

From a few steps away, I deliberately called out to Gi Juye.

“What brings you here? Are you in the same project as me... did you get cast too? Right? I’m here for a meeting about it.”

= I get cast everywhere. Unlike you.

“I was honestly a bit bothered last time during 〈The Great Garland〉.... What a relief. Looks like we’re in the same project this time!”

= You remember losing to me, right? Lolol

Even though I struck first, Gi Juye couldn’t say a word and just trembled. She couldn’t completely ignore me, so her manager forced an awkward smile.

“No, we just have a personal schedule.... Have a good meeting.”

Of course they couldn’t very well say, “We came to forcibly schedule something to steal your coordinator, what meeting are you talking about, don’t mock us.”

But my turn wasn’t over yet.

I smiled and opened my mouth.

“Ah, yes! Then enjoy your rest—.”

= Forever.

Whether she understood my meaning perfectly or not, Gi Juye exploded on the spot.

“Hey! Who do you think you are picking a fight? I was wondering why you were acting up— this is all because of you—”

“Juye, shh! Quiet!”

Who am I? A skilled leading actress.

“Ah.... Sunbae....”

I noticed staff members in the distance glancing this way. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear with one hand. Making sure my completely innocent expression was visible.

Ding—!

The elevator arrived.

The manager hurriedly dragged Gi Juye inside.

I looked at him frantically pressing the close button and bowed again.

Extremely politely.

“Have a good rest—!”

With Gi Juye’s shrill scream, the elevator doors shut. Her frantic voice echoed behind the descending metal doors. The staff standing at a distance must have seen it too.

The finishing touch is important.

“Whew....”

I put a period on my performance of pitiful Han Yeoreum, exhausted by her senior’s tyranny.

‘By dawn, this will probably circulate as a witness account.’

I quietly returned to my room and closed the door.

“Nice.”

Gi Juye would be resting well now.

For a very, very long time.

* * *

This was the MBS Drama Department in Ilsan.

The Center Director, unusually serious, grabbed So Yesol by the arm.

“...You absolutely have to secure her.”

“I want to....”

“If you bring her in, I’ll give you a Golden Time slot immediately.”

The terrestrial drama market, including MBS, was shaking. The capital that had supported it so solidly had collapsed. Naturally, the latter halves of dramas were crumbling.

[WagleWagle Spring / Why do dramas suddenly feel like club pork-cutlet chaebols these days?]

Feels like they all live in a crumbling mansion so I can’t immerse myself

– I was so happy thinking we finally got a masterpiece but the CG quality went insane toward the end

ㄴ You don’t even need to say the subject ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

The moment it was judged impossible to secure a global fandom, the total production cost had to be drastically cut. OST quality dropped first. Then wardrobe. Then CG.

And on top of that, the overall board became unstable.

“Star writer! And pair them with a rookie actor! In the end, it’s the story. The story!”

“The Chinese ban might not end anytime soon and you want to take that kind of risk? Not necessarily a top star, but at least someone moderately known—”

“Then gather as much PPL as possible, no, you know— those actors desperate to climb up a tier! If we gather them—”

Meetings continued every single day.

No one knew how to respond to this unprecedented situation.

“Go! So Yesol!”

The Center Director dispatched Director So.

In a quiet room, sitting across from Yeoreum, Director So calmly explained the project.

“We’re going low-budget.... The backgrounds, the props — we’re aiming for visuals that feel like something you’d actually see in real life....”

MBS had devised the best strategy.

A once-verified rookie director.

A rising actress with both star quality and acting skill.

And finally—

“What about the cast?”

Audience relatability.

“The casting director is still shaping the supporting roles first. Yungyo and Heejeong should really feel like early-semester freshmen....”

While others focused on star writers and star actors, the MBS Center Director and Director So focused on potential.

On that faint possibility that the public would recognize the real thing.

“We’re bringing in unfamiliar faces. So it really feels like starting university life....”

And Han Yeoreum was the real thing.

‘Sometimes an actor like this appears.’

The more successful the actor, the more calculating they become.

The director’s name value. The star writer’s prestige. The co-stars’ rank. Filming locations good for headlines.

One choice could earn tens of billions.

It was natural.

But Han Yeoreum wasn’t like that.

She wasn’t just another celebrity.

‘She goes purely for the acting.’

There had been plenty of internal debate.

But there was a reason they ultimately chose to bet on Han Yeoreum.

“She went to Daehakro!”

At a time when she should’ve been raising her market price, Han Yeoreum chose a small theater in Daehakro.

Some called her foolish. Some clicked their tongues.

But everyone reached the same conclusion.

Han Yeoreum is sincere about acting.

That conclusion quietly shook the industry.

Work-life balance had long since been shattered here. Anyone still remaining did so because they loved this job.

Han Yeoreum earned the industry’s favor without difficulty.

“Well, if Han Yeoreum’s doing it, then I’m in.”

The lighting director who had watched her from 〈ParCheHi〉 to 〈Strange Tales〉 accepted without hesitation. Contacting an external filming team wasn’t difficult either.

“She barely does NGs. She’s never flubbed a line even once, so among us she’s practically a legend.”

“Every time we pull a cut, it saves time. Work finishes faster.”

Without realizing it, Han ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Yeoreum had become an actress with name value.

Someone who drew people in.

“The current script is in the final stages of episode four. If you accept the role of Na Yuna, we’ll show you the rest right away.”

Director So took out the prepared script. Yeoreum’s eyes lit up. Director So had already sensed her heart leaning toward it.

“This script.... What did you think while reading it?”

Han Yeoreum seemed to recall something. The faint smile at the corner of her lips was somehow bittersweet.

“I related to all three, but especially Yuna. When I was twenty, I thought everything would work out too. But your twenties don’t really go the way you expect....”

Anyone listening might think she’d wasted her twenties away.

She stroked the script.

“I’ll do it. This project.”

The pure-white script without a title yet. But even in that short time, the edges were worn from repeated reading. Post-it notes stuck here and there.

Director So pushed the remaining three volumes toward her. A thick stack of white pages.

“Good.... Thank you. Then here.”

So Yesol tapped the very front page — where the title should have been.

“Will you decide what goes here?”

“The title?”

“Yes. The title. Just tell me what you want to call this work.”

Han Yeoreum thought for quite a long time. Director So waited patiently.

Compared to the two summers she had waited for Yeoreum to arrive, this was nothing.

After a long pause, Yeoreum spoke.

Director So lifted her pen and wrote on the first page.

[Youth Disqualified!]

* * *

“Wahahahaha! Wahahahaha!”

The MBS Drama Center Director stuck Han Yeoreum’s photo in the middle of a large whiteboard. Then he wrote the drama title in bold letters.

“〈Youth Disqualified!〉. Ah! What a great title, huh?”

What So Yesol wanted to depict wasn’t the vivid green most associated with youth.

It was a gray filter layered over it. A suffocating color that still retained traces of blue.

“Good, good! Just two more!”

Already smiling as if production had begun, the Center Director looked at Han Yeoreum’s photo.

Now they needed actors to stand beside her and portray university life together.

“Who would be good—.”

He folded his arms and stared.

Something almost came to mind, but not quite.

“Fresh face, fresh face....”

Sighing, he sat down.

It was 9:59 p.m.

Time for a drama to start.

“I can worry about that at dawn.”

He turned on the TV.

There were three televisions in the office — each tuned to a different terrestrial network’s drama.

Protecting the live broadcast wasn’t just about MBS.

Know the enemy and know yourself, and you’ll win every battle.

‘Even though right now....’

MBS hadn’t produced a proper hit for three consecutive years.

It was closer to losing every battle.

Clutching at that bitter truth, the Center Director watched the chaotic moving screen.

His eyebrow twitched.

“What is this?”