I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

I pressed my fist hard against my still-fluttering heart. If I didn’t, it felt like it would burst right out of my chest.

“That?”

– Yes! You!

This was the kind of schedule only truly popular celebrities did....

“A fan signing?”

– Yes. I’ll send you the detailed notice over chat in a bit. Anyway, be excited!

The moment I hung up, I slammed my fist into the sofa.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Not just a signing. A fan signing. That meant I’d get to see my fans up close. Would the people who came to the awards and other schedules come again? Would they still like me? Maybe even overseas fans would fly in. Or someone might just pass by and end up liking me on the spot.

Fans.

Han Yeoreum’s fans....

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!”

Just thinking about it made me so happy I punched the sofa several more times.

* * *

“Ah.... I think I lost my hearing....”

Manager Ma pressed a hand over his still-ringing ear. Because Yeoreum had screamed in unfiltered joy without hanging up, her shriek was still echoing inside his head.

“Director, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Not really.”

He answered vaguely while scanning the data on his screen.

It was late October now. The moment the fashion industry had been waiting for—the FW season revenue curve—was beginning its steady climb upward.

The moment Han Yeoreum debuted through 〈ParCheHi〉, she became the model for clothing brand N.

Three years since she sold out Pi Chaewon sneakers. The graph had never once dipped.

“Our cutie already proved her short-term sales impact.”

Every time a product was previewed to consumers through a pictorial shoot, the reaction was explosive. Even stronger than when the model had been Gi Juye.

“Her core fanbase may be weaker than an idol’s, but overall? Our cutie wins.”

Han Yeoreum had the ability to capture a consumer’s gaze with a single photo.

The overseas followers she gathered through MusicN, combined with her daily photos, pulled in female consumers from their teens to their thirties.

And now, thanks to 〈The Great Garland〉, even middle-aged viewers were flowing in.

It was the perfect timing to open the wallets of consumers who already felt favorably toward her.

“Alright, this winter—.”

Brand N was going to strike properly.

Long padded coats, minimum price two hundred thousand won. A significant jump from their previous lineup. The flagship pieces ranged between three hundred and four hundred thousand.

And N decided to attach the model’s name to the representative product.

“‘Han Yeoreum Long Padding’ is going to become the trend.”

They would select 100 winners for Han Yeoreum’s fan signing among customers who purchased over two hundred thousand won. Split between an online-mall exclusive event and separate in-store events.

[Eligible to apply with purchases over 100,000 won at the online mall *Photo review required]

“They’re clever.”

When buying clothes that cost several hundred thousand won, people naturally hesitate. The more reviews there ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ are, the more curious regular consumers become.

The trending model. The product everyone is praising. Winter approaching. Wallets opening before people even realize it.

Manager Ma felt it instinctively.

A new trend item was about to be born: “Han Yeoreum Long Padding.”

* * *

After a painfully long twenty-four hours, the final child-actor episode arrived. Episode 4 of 〈The Great Garland〉 began.

Reporter Wi bit her lip as she stared at the screen.

“Where did those shoes come from?”

“Excuse me...?”

“That’s not something the likes of you could get your hands on.”

Hanamura’s fluent Joseon words stunned the errand girl.

He stepped out of the car.

Intimidated by the presence of the middle-aged man in his immaculate black suit, the girl holding the shoes stumbled backward.

“Can’t you answer properly?”

“Urk—.”

He grabbed her slender throat with one hand. She choked, unable to breathe.

Hanamura watched the struggling Joseon girl for a moment, almost savoring it, before loosening his grip slightly.

“Kuh—! Cough—! Cough—!”

Air rushed back into her blocked throat and she burst into relentless coughing.

Hanamura seized her by the hair and forced her head up.

“My patience is not very good. I’ll ask again. You thieving bitch.”

“I didn’t steal—!”

Her eyes reddened with humiliation as she protested between coughs.

“I was asked to repair them... to fix them....”

But the moment she met Hanamura’s icy gaze, her voice shrank.

One eyebrow lifted crookedly.

Still gripping her hair, he began walking.

“W-wait...!”

Unable to keep up with his long strides, her worn shoe slipped off and tumbled onto the dirt road. Her bare feet became filthy against the ground.

Hanamura pushed open the estate doors.

Bang—!

He flung her aside by the hair. She rolled across the floor.

The commotion instantly drew the attention of the Joseon servants.

“This thieving bitch dares to lie to me. I doubt this is the first time she has tried to sneak the Hanamura family’s property outside.”

Huijae’s shoes rolled across the floor from the girl’s hand.

“It’s just the first time she got caught.”

The chaos was familiar.

Inside her room, Huijae’s expression froze.

She hurried into the living room and assessed the situation immediately.

“Rio. Those are your shoes.”

“....”

“Did you notice they were stolen?”

The air was frozen solid. Her father’s voice was laced with mockery. The girl on the floor. The cowhide shoes. The countless eyes turned toward her.

The Joseon servants, unable to move.

Huijae dropped to her knees.

For a girl who always moved silently, the sound was shockingly loud.

Thud!

“She did not steal them. I asked her to repair the shoes.”

“Oh? You?”

“Yes.”

“What need is there to repair them? You haven’t stepped outside.”

“Since coming to Joseon, my feet have grown. The heel no longer fits.”

“I see. So you ordered them stretched.”

Hanamura raised his hand and struck the nanny across the face.

The crack of delicate flesh splitting echoed through the vast living room.

The air filled with horror.

“Mother!”

“Sir, please—!”

As the nanny collapsed, the Joseon servants rushed to help her.

But as if accustomed to this, she rose on her own.

“How did you ask?”

Smack—! Smack—!

Striking the nanny again, Hanamura addressed Rio on the floor.

“Rio.”

“....”

“The ones here only know Joseon.”

The ridicule in his voice made Huijae’s heart drop.

Cold sweat ran down her temple as her forehead pressed against the floor.

“There are two possibilities. One, you covered for her because you’re the same Joseon scum.”

He looked down at the trembling Rio.

“Or.”

Her exposed nape was drenched in sweat. His eyes glinted with rage.

“You’ve been mingling with Joseon scum behind my back and learned their language.”

“I’m sorry.”

He did not wait for an answer.

“It doesn’t matter which. Both are presumptuous lies.”

“I’m sorry....”

Hanamura withdrew his hand from the nanny and jerked his chin dismissively.

Step back.

The nanny’s cheek was swollen red. Her expression did not change.

As if this were nothing new.

– Are you insane? He’s not going to hit Huijae too, right? TT_TT

– Hanamura you bastard I’m so fucking angry my hands are shaking

– Please... I can’t watch this...

Reporter Wi remembered the content she filmed with Writer Ahn. The explanation of Hanamura and Huijae’s relationship.

“Abandoning your country isn’t just abandoning one thing.”

You abandon the mother who once held you warm against her chest.

You abandon the father who wore torn shoes himself but always bought new ones for his son.

You abandon the siblings you carried on your back since infancy.

You abandon the girl next door you promised to marry one day.

You abandon the friends you swam with in summer streams and sword-fought with icicles in winter.

“How much do you think Hanamura turned his back on to choose collaboration?”

You abandon the uncle dragged away by Japanese police who limped for life.

You abandon the aunt who smiled brightly, promising to return rich from a new job far away.

You shove aside the grandmother who grabbed your shoulders and begged you not to.

“To abandon your country, you must abandon an entire lifetime.”

You abandon the memories of laughing and crying together.

You abandon your own name.

You abandon your human dignity.

You abandon the minimum conscience required to be human.

You forget. You pretend not to know. You give up what you once hesitated to do. And in the end, you laugh, convincing yourself you were right.

That is what it means to abandon your country.

If someone who abandoned all that—would he hesitate to abandon his own blood?

“You have to look at Hanamura’s age and Huijae’s age. The occupation lasted thirty-five years. Huijae is eighteen. So when do you think Hanamura entered as a son-in-law?”

No—if given the chance, he would have been prepared to discard at any moment.

“Who would oppose bringing in a Joseon man as a son-in-law to inherit a business? What if revenge followed? The risk is too high. You’d need to observe him for at least ten years. Hanamura began collaborating immediately after the occupation started.”

Thick, deep trust is never built overnight.

“He achieved it. An image of someone who would never betray.”

With time.

“That depends on how thoroughly he oppressed his fellow Joseon. Ability matters less than proving loyalty when swallowing a business whole.”

For a long time.

“And what’s the most effective way to maintain that trust?”

Layer by layer. Slowly.

“Yes. Acts like that—how could he treat his own daughter that way? A child. His own blood. A Joseon. The perfect combination. Huijae was the ideal prey for Hanamura.”

It is built like that.

“Even to his infant daughter, simply because she is Joseon. He has no blood, no tears. He desires only success. He will never betray us.”

One of the Joseon he pressed beneath his heel,

“The Empire of Japan will last forever.”

Was his own daughter, Rio.