I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

I rushed to the address Myeong Jeha gave me. As always, I assumed it would be Dok Gomin’s studio.

But like a script slightly misaligned, something was off. A tiny deviation.

“...You’ve been next door this whole time?”

At some point, Myeong Jeha had secured the unit right beside Dok Gomin’s studio as his own. He handed me a pair of slippers and walked in as if it were second nature.

“Yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Yeoreum.”

He turned his head to look back at me.

“You never asked.”

He was still smiling. As though it were nothing.

Unlike Dok Gomin’s chaotic workspace, Myeong Jeha’s place contained only minimal furniture. It felt strangely alien.

“It’s been exactly three years since we’ve been like this.”

I still couldn’t move from the entrance. Anxiety made my body tremble. He had already gone inside, out of sight.

“Come here. Sit.”

Only after hearing that did I manage to move. I walked in slowly, not even realizing I hadn’t put on the slippers he gave me.

He opened a bottle of water for me and pushed it forward with a tilt of his chin.

“I think I’ve done everything I could for you.”

“...”

“But there didn’t seem to be any sign of you getting closer.”

I couldn’t understand what he was saying. My head spun.

I couldn’t sit. Standing was all I could manage.

“I didn’t have a choice. You understand, right?”

No, I don’t understand at all.

I swallowed the words. My mind creaked like rusted machinery.

His next words scattered like auditory hallucinations.

I couldn’t predict what he was about to say.

From where to where, to what extent, and since when this had been a board Myeong Jeha laid out — I had no way of measuring it.

“...Was it all you? Did you change everything?”

Stories changed. Actors changed. Directors, production companies, distributors, investors — everything changed.

‘Even if I act well on my own... the box office will become uncertain....’

Weak developments halfway through. Actor controversies. Director scandals. Countless variables.

I might become an actress known for “acting well but having terrible taste in projects.”

Because I wouldn’t know.

“Yeah. I’ll speak first. It’s exactly what you’re thinking, Yeoreum.”

At this rate, I’d end up remembered only by face and name.

People would know Han Yeoreum — but the works she appeared in would be buried.

“I keep restarting my twenties. Then, when I turn exactly thirty-one, I go back. Sometimes before that....”

He stated his situation plainly.

It was different from the silent understanding we’d shared until now.

“I don’t know the criteria. One day I just wake up and I’m twenty-one again.”

Raw information poured in.

His low voice wrapped around my ankles, binding me in place. My body wouldn’t move.

His gaze bored into me.

“According to what the media calls it... what was it. Ah. Regressor. Yeah. That. Sounds childish, but anyway.”

He raised the water bottle to his lips and drained half of it in one go.

“At first, I went to a psychiatric hospital. Then I thought maybe there was something wrong with my brain, so I did thorough scans. And... I’ll skip that part.”

I stared at him.

The skill floating above his head glittered.

Analysis: EX

It had risen.

It meant his situational judgment now surpassed anything my brain could follow.

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do.

“But there’s nothing wrong with my brain. My memory is still excellent, Yeoreum.”

My mouth went dry. His gentle tone drilled painfully into my ears.

The only card I thought I held had been completely exposed.

When did he prepare this?

From where to where had he calculated?

I couldn’t even estimate it.

“I remember every single word you’ve ever said.”

Why had he called me here like this?

What happens to me now?

“You didn’t say you wanted to appear on a major network. You said you had to get on TV. Like something would happen if you didn’t.”

“Then help me get on a major network.”

“Major network? What kind of appearance?”

“Anything! I just have to get on TV.”

One sentence I’d said to him right after regression, desperate to complete my mission.

Maybe he had started observing me from that moment.

“It’s strange... You’re not the type who wouldn’t know.”

His tone stretched lazily. As if he already knew there was nowhere for me to run.

“Why insist specifically on a major network...?”

Normally, production companies plan and produce dramas. After that, they coordinate with broadcasters for scheduling and then release them to the public.

Cases where a broadcasting station directly plans or controls overall production are extremely rare.

He had exploited that loophole.

“As if someone ordered you to.”

That a rookie would choose a broadcaster for her appearance was absurd.

And I, who had been unknown, would know that better than anyone.

“So I thought about it. You’re given very specific goals. But you’ve never once told me everything. Why?”

The terror of being seen through froze my voice.

The future had flipped. And he had changed.

“I’ve never once not helped you.”

The card I held was gone.

The power dynamic had reversed completely.

“You keep trying to hold the blade.”

There was amusement in his slow voice. Unlike me, he was relaxed.

“As if you’re wary of being used and discarded.”

He hadn’t only seen through one thing.

Even the part I never wanted to say was laid bare.

“I think it’s related to how excessively conscious you are of Do Gyeoul.”

He gestured for me to come closer. My steps creaked as I stood in front of him.

His hand snapped around my wrist.

His fingers tightened, binding.

“This isn’t speculation. It’s certainty.”

He no longer looked willing to wait.

There was coldness in the way he looked up at me.

“So tell me.”

His gaze was sharp.

“I’ll only wait this long.”

* * *

At that same time, Do Gyeoul was in the middle of a photoshoot. 〈The Fuse〉 had ended smoothly, its ratings climbing steadily until the finale.

It had been the most talked-about drama in its time slot.

[HOT / Another luxury drama added to the list.jpg]

(Drama capture.jpg)

Jang Huibin is insanely delicious paired with anyone in this show... Anyone who loves toxic-relationship narratives is going to go insane over Okjeong.

Anonymous 1: The tension when Jang Huibin faces off with Choi Musuri is insane... it really shows what palace intrigue is TT_TT The atmosphere is brutal.

Anonymous 4: I didn’t realize Do Gyeoul was this good at acting. It’s crazy. I’d only seen clips from 〈Beyond the Closed Door〉 before but now I’m bingeing.

Anonymous 17: Do Gyeoul is just top-tier among actresses of her generation lol. Her experience is different.

Anonymous 8: I thought I vaguely knew who was who, but everyone is so layered... It really captures the conflicts that would arise in a class society.

With a final rating of 23.7%, it was praised for a perfect rise-fall-resolution structure.

There were several scenes that would be remembered for a long time.

INTUBE

[The tense tug-of-war between Okjeong and Sukbin in the garden Do Gyeoul VS Choo Gaeul #TheFuse EP12]

Views 1.63 million

—Who’s that next to Do Gyeoul? lol She’s not getting overshadowed at all.

—It’s not sarcastic tone or expression. It’s the venom she’s holding inside. She nailed it.

—Right~~ After watching childish sageuk for so long, seeing this high-level palace intrigue reminds me of the old classic and I love it... ㅡ.,ㅡ The way they build tension with music is so refined, hehe

—Later when Okjeong devours Sukbin it’s so tragic f*ck. What is that palace even worth that she turns dark like that.

As the latter half progressed, Gyeoul’s performance began to resemble Gaeul’s.

She moved her gaze before turning her head.

She obsessively maintained her appearance.

If Choo Gaeul’s character was a born sociopath, Do Gyeoul’s Jang Huibin was a woman pushed to her limit to survive in the palace.

Layered over Queen Inhyeon’s composure and Sukbin’s sharpness, her Huibin was complete.

[Do Gyeoul shows it again... 〈The Fuse〉 wrap party]

[SBC acknowledges a luxury historical? 〈The Fuse〉 finishes strong]

[Do Gyeoul’s villainous Jang Huibin — “A character you can’t help but love”]

She wasn’t a simple villain.

Huibin, abandoned in love yet consumed by revenge, carrying a heart that could never turn back, looked pitiful.

The scene where Huibin blinked quietly while crying, lowered her head, then lifted it again to stare forward — that instant transformation from Okjeong to Huibin would be remembered for a long time.

And that wasn’t all.

“Gyeoul! Have you seen this?”

@Sunwoo Seonuk

Not a simple revenge narrative, but a narrative of structure.

The ignition of desire attached to 〈The Fuse〉.

The fire spirit ultimately rises and devours everything to the top.

Reposts 4,421 Likes 7,000

Even Sunwoo Seonuk, who had harshly criticized Do Gyeoul before, offered high praise this time.

“This is success again. Real success!”

Gyeoul mulled over her manager’s words.

‘Success....’

Is this success?

She thought about what she had gained from this project.

A transformation as a villain.

A firmly established position as an actress.

Endless CF offers.

‘If that’s success, then yes.’

The public acknowledged Do Gyeoul.

In the past, that alone might have satisfied her. It would have meant everything she chose and did was correct.

But she wanted something else.

‘Han Yeoreum....’

Not Choo Gaeul wearing Han Yeoreum’s interpretation.

She wanted the real Han Yeoreum.

The only one who resembled her.

She remembered Han Yeoreum on stage.

The way she filled that small theater completely.

“Ah, what do I do! I can’t do this alone! I still can’t even do my share!”

Han Yeoreum had the ability to turn the damp air of a basement theater into heat.

‘Why is Han Yeoreum there.’

She didn’t belong in that kind of theater.

Not among unknown actors with no names.

‘Why is she.’

She wasn’t someone meant to perform in front of a mere hundred or two hundred people.

“Cut! Okay! Good work!”

The photoshoot had ended.

Gyeoul looked up at the lights hanging from the ceiling.

They were hot.

Like midsummer.

“Gyeoul, you’re checking your next project today too, right? Should I send the scripts home?”

“Yes. Please do.”

Even in the van heading home, she opened a script.

No matter what she read, Han Yeoreum kept coming to mind.

Han Yeoreum, drenched in sweat in a tiny theater, bowing over and over to the audience.

That foolish, bright smile.

‘Where Han Yeoreum belongs....’

Was where Do Gyeoul was.

Just then—

“What? Really? Wait a second.”

Her manager’s face changed as he answered the phone.