I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

Eun Baekhap sat on the sofa and tilted her head to the right.

Going to a spa that was good at décolleté massage for proper care was important, but what mattered just as much was doing it habitually in daily life like this.

“Ah, fuck, it’s that part again where they hit the inferiority-complex button.”

On the giant TV in Eun Baekhap’s living room, 〈Youth Disqualified!〉 was playing.

Through the tall speakers set on both sides came Han Yeoreum’s voice.

“Heejeong, let’s go eat something good today.”

“Something good? What?”

“Anything. I’ll treat. Yungyo should be done around now.”

There was an unusual excitement in Na Yuna’s voice.

Jeong Heejeong, too, sharply picked up on that mood.

Clinging to her arm, she pouted cutely.

“Reaaally? If Yuna’s buying, then everything tastes yummy—!”

A faint little pride touched the corners of Yuna’s lips.

Every time the last bus had stopped after club activities, she had relied on staying over at either Heejeong’s or Yungyo’s place, yet she had never really been able to repay them.

But today was fine.

Her tutoring pay had come in, so she wouldn’t need to worry about her account balance for a few days.

More than anything, she wanted to use the pocket money her dad had given her.

“Hey. Buy what? You two are coming to my place today.”

Cutting between them, Yungyo slung an arm around both their shoulders.

“To your place?”

“Yeah. Mom sent side dishes. A disgusting amount, seriously. There’s no way I can finish it all alone.”

At the mention of her mother’s side dishes, Heejeong’s eyes softened for just a moment.

But soon she answered Yungyo again in her usual cheerful tone.

“Yuna said she was gonna buy us something tasty today!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Count this as the meal. No matter how good a college-area restaurant is, are they gonna serve twenty side dishes? My house has that much food. Jeong Heejeong, I’ll pack some for you when you leave.”

“Really?”

Heejeong leaned her head out slightly and looked toward Yuna on her left.

She was checking her mood.

“My fridge is about to explode. Huh? Yuna, let’s go eat at my place.”

“...Okay.”

Yuna’s expression, as always, was unreadable.

The faint anticipation that had briefly shown just moments ago was quietly covered over with embarrassment.

Because Yungyo was right.

No matter how famous a restaurant near campus was, it would never be anything impressive enough to satisfy a rich family’s daughter.

Yuna grew a little awkward and quickened her pace as if to hurry forward.

“Waaaah! What is all this?! What is aaaall this?!”

Heejeong was so amazed by the endless relay of side dishes that she practically bounced in front of the table.

Marinated crab, soy-marinated abalone, bulgogi, spicy stir-fried pork, meat patties, braised tofu, spicy braised chicken, all kinds of namul and kimchi—

It was a spread worthy of a full Korean table setting, and Heejeong threw her arms around Yungyo.

“You have to pack me lots of side dishes later, okay?”

“...Lots?”

“Mhm! The bulgogi looks so good.”

“The look on your damn face says you’re planning to eat it with some guy again. Hey! Yuna! You take it all!”

“Aaaahhh, what kind of nonsense is that! We’re friends!”

Heejeong forcefully hugged Yungyo tighter.

Yuna awkwardly set down her spoon and looked over the meal once again.

Her eyes seemed to say it was a good thing she hadn’t stubbornly insisted on paying for dinner with the money her father had given her.

No matter what she bought, it could never compare to this.

“Ah, it’s so chaotic. Sit down first, Jeong Heejeong. Eat, eat. Do you want me to bring out the stuffed cucumber kimchi too?”

Yungyo peeled Heejeong off her arm.

Then she turned back toward the fridge, scanning it to see what else she could bring out.

Heejeong stared at the refrigerator packed to the brim.

Yungyo’s refrigerator was nothing like her own empty one.

“Mhm! Is there no stir-fried anchovies?”

But pretending everything was normal, Heejeong stuck herself right back onto Yungyo’s back.

There was warmth there.

“So annoying. Yuna! Come take this one away.”

But unlike her words, Yungyo still took out even the stir-fried anchovies Heejeong had asked for.

Heejeong’s phone was placed on the wide dining table.

Click! Click!

After snapping photos, Heejeong uploaded them to her story.

Smiling at the screen, she clearly hoped Seo Eden would check it quickly.

“There she goes again, acting up. Yuna, eat this. The bulgogi’s good.”

“Thanks.”

Yungyo found it fascinating, the way Heejeong was busily messaging someone.

At first, she had honestly thought Heejeong was a hopeless boy-crazy mess.

Well, that part still hadn’t changed.

Still, she envied someone who had that much love to give.

You just couldn’t hide the signs of someone who had grown up receiving plenty of love.

Unlike herself, Jeong Heejeong’s personality was rounded and smooth.

Not sharp-edged in the slightest.

Envious of that, Yungyo chose what she was best at.

“Ah, I’m seriously dying of annoyance. Even if I yell at them not to send things, they never listen.”

I’m loved too.

I’m the treasured daughter of this family.

Showing that.

That was what Yungyo always did whenever her pride got hurt.

“Still, I’m jealous. There was definitely a reason people called you a real princess. Right, Yuna?”

“...Yeah. All the side dishes are good.”

“What’s there to be jealous of? Organizing all this is work too. And after forcing me into this apartment because they’re worried it’s dangerous for a woman to live alone, apparently that still isn’t enough, because now my younger brother’s coming to stay for a while. So annoying.”

“Younger brother? Is he handsomeee?”

“...Heejeong.”

“Hey, for fuck’s sake.”

Even in the middle of this, Heejeong asking about her younger brother made Yungyo’s eyes shoot up.

“Yuna, why don’t you just move in here? Your commute’s way too long anyway. There’s an extra room. I’d actually like that.”

“Why would I live here?”

“Hey. I’m not just saying it in passing, I mean it. If you moved in, my parents would like it too. Even now they make a huge fuss saying how absurd it is for a woman to live alone.”

Yungyo tried to hide her inferiority complex by acting as if everything was simply annoying and troublesome.

Without even realizing that it was trampling directly over Yuna’s pride.

“Then I wanna move in too! That’d be so nice. The three of us living together.”

“No one invited you, so why are you coming?”

“I’m lonelyyyy.”

Na Yuna’s voice flowed in as narration.

—I couldn’t casually answer Yungyo with a simple “sure,” even as an empty pleasantry. To live in a place like this, how much would it even cost per month? Embarrassingly, that was the first thing I thought of.

Eun Baekhap paused her stretching for a moment and looked at the screen.

“The speakers really are better when they’re expensive.”

She hadn’t been paying attention to it before, but today she could feel it clearly.

The sound quality was good.

Na Yuna’s monologue was layered over the bickering between Heejeong and Yungyo in a way that never made it feel like the voices were blending together, even though they were in the same space.

“Oh right. We’ve got that club gathering this time, remember? You guys probably still haven’t heard.”

Because Heejeong had heard directly from Seo Eden, the club president, her information was fast.

She showed them her phone and checked the schedule.

“What is it?”

“Our cheer squad lost basically all the old members, right? So we’re a little short on choreography practice for the festival.”

“Yeah. Because everyone was too busy dating and the whole thing got completely wrecked. Just like your future, Heejeong.”

“Jeez. Anyway. So we decided to get some help from the K University cheer squad. Like a temporary alliance? Something like that. Ah. Them.”

Heejeong showed someone’s Yousta.

The moment Yuna saw it, her expression froze.

Thud.

“...”

The owner of the profile picture she had been secretly staring at for so long was right ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) there.

Yuna couldn’t answer at all.

Her throat bobbed.

“They said we’re just meeting lightly before we start real practice, and I specifically told them to do it on a day when you don’t have tutoring, Yuna, so—”

“I can’t go.”

“Eehhh? Whyyy?”

At Heejeong’s innocent question, Yuna couldn’t give any answer.

Yungyo, who had just pushed more side dishes toward Yuna’s plate, spoke up.

“I’m paying for the drinks that day anyway. Don’t worry about it, don’t worry.”

But Yungyo’s thoughtfulness crossed Yuna’s line.

“...No!”

For the first time, Yuna raised her voice as if snapping in irritation.

Heejeong froze in surprise, then forced out a smile to ease the atmosphere.

She kneaded Yuna’s arm affectionately.

“What’s wronggg.... Was I clueless again? Are you saying no because I kept pushing?”

“It’s not that.... Ha.... Anyway, thanks, but I’m not going that day. I’ve got something else.”

Yuna immediately realized she had gone too far, and her cheeks flushed red.

Yungyo’s gaze.

Heejeong’s gaze.

The weight of two pairs of eyes on her felt unbearable.

Yuna shoved her chair back harshly and stood.

“Thanks for the meal. I should get going. Sorry.”

The three of them each had their own secrets.

Walls in their hearts they had protected their entire lives.

Lines drawn in front of them.

Things no one would ever know unless they opened up.

For some, it was family.

For some, wounds.

For others, inferiority.

Each of them carried something like that.

“...Hey. Did I do something wrong?”

“I dunnooo.... I’ll try talking to her well....”

“Ah, shit. What’s her problem?”

“First pack me some side dishes.... Mostly meat....”

“You are seriously fucking unbelievable.”

Even in the middle of this, Heejeong was still acting cute.

As if dumbfounded, Yungyo packed meat into a container for her.

Yuna stood at the bus stop with her head bowed low.

Heejeong rode the elevator down.

And Yungyo sat alone on the sofa in the empty house.

An OST that didn’t quite match the mood began to play, signaling the end of the episode.

At some point, Eun Baekhap had completely stopped stretching and was now watching the drama in full concentration.

“Obviously, before long they’ll all spill their secrets, cry their eyes out, and become friends again. So predictable.”

Eun Baekhap picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

Then she resumed her stretching.

Normally, Eun Baekhap almost never watched live broadcasts.

Even if ratings went up, it only benefited other people, and she needed to sleep early to maintain her skin.

And above all, Eun Baekhap was an actress.

Rather than watching in real time, it was better to strategically watch the next day while checking audience reactions, the flow of articles, and even the Intube comment section.

If it was going to help her career, the most important thing was having the eye to evaluate works.

“Ah, fuck. Seriously fucking annoying.... There’s barely any time left in my skin regeneration window already.”

But that day, after hearing Han Yeoreum’s Lee Seohae, she kept getting curious.

About the other roles Han Yeoreum would show.

The future filmography Han Yeoreum would build.

Everything those performances would express.

“Because everyone dies equally someday, there’s a high possibility that Lee Seohae simply cannot understand others’ fear of death.”

That was truly the kind of answer only a sociopath could give.

Accepting the given condition as something natural.

Thinking only in terms of facts, without any personal bias.

That was Lee Seohae’s fundamental foundation.

An analyst who inferred the correct answer while excluding every ordinary human emotion.

Han Yeoreum had understood Lee Seohae exactly as she was.

That was the point that got under Eun Baekhap’s skin.

“Because of that damn bitch, I can’t even stretch properly....”

Grumbling, Eun Baekhap walked into her bedroom.

From 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. was the golden time when serotonin was active.

For Eun Baekhap, who never let herself slacken for even a moment and had to be ready to step into filming at any time, going to bed late for anything other than a schedule was unacceptable.

“So annoying. Seriously annoying.”

With irritated movements, Eun Baekhap sprayed room spray into the air, filling the room with floral scent as she swung her arm.

Then she slipped beneath the perfectly squared blanket and lowered a pure white silk sleep mask.

Even though the soft, moisturizing fabric covered her eyes, sleep didn’t come easily.

Han Yeoreum’s Na Yuna.

How had she analyzed this station?

Again... it was another character who didn’t openly express emotion, yet Lee Seohae and Na Yuna were clearly different.

She even became curious about the voice.

Would that uniquely dry, parched narration sound similar when she played Lee Seohae too?

Or would it be a little sharper...?

“Aaaagh! Why the hell do I have to be curious about that damn bitch?! She’s not even Geum Bitgang! That... that damn bitch!”

Eun Baekhap kicked the blanket furiously.

She was so annoyed at Han Yeoreum she could barely stand it.

She had a feeling that for the next few weeks, she wouldn’t be able to get to bed during her skin-recovery golden time.

“So—an—noy—ing!”

The innocent silk blanket was kicked over and over by the prettily pedicured toes of Eun Baekhap’s feet.

Han Yeoreum kept filling her thoughts.

* * *

“Yeoreum! We’re here!”

I blinked awake groggily inside the car.

When had I fallen asleep?

Still clutching the script for 〈Unfair Trade〉 in my hand, I must have drifted off for a moment.

“I’m not late, right?”

“Yeah. Of course not. Hurry and get out. It’s cutting it close.”

I got out of the car immediately.

This was the Namyangju set for 〈Unfair Trade〉.

I hurried inside, running with the script clutched tightly in one hand.

“Oh? Long time no see.”

“Sunbae! Hello!”

At the entrance was Shin Seojin, who looked like he had just arrived too.

Maybe he had bulked up for the role of Gam Seonghwan, because the image of Taejin from We Rund was completely gone.

The closely cropped hair, thick eyebrows, and the heavier frame wrapped in a thick field jacket—

Anyone would have called him a detective at first glance.

I checked my face in the mirror attached to the elevator wall.

Unlike Shin Seojin, my appearance was neat and restrained.

A gray turtleneck knit, black pants, and my hair tied back cleanly.

Since more time had passed than when I was Huijae, my hair now fell below my collarbone.

Because the filming periods for Na Yuna and Lee Seohae overlapped, I had tied only half of it up to avoid repeating too similar an image.

My eyes met Gam Seonghwan’s in the mirror.

Just then, the elevator doors opened softly.

Smiling, Shin Seojin gestured for me to get out first.

“Oooh. You’re here? Came together?”

“Yes. We met in the underground parking lot.”

“Director! Hello!”

A ritual table had been prepared on the set.

Because Director Park had been firm that they had to hold the ritual before the crank-in.

Off to one side of the set, in a corner where the lights didn’t quite reach, a long table had been placed.

A pig’s head sat neatly atop a white cloth, with baskets of fruit arranged symmetrically on both sides.

It looked like they had even custom-ordered rice cakes.

The atmosphere among the staff was good as they looked at the ritual table lined with cups of makgeolli, soju, and cheongju.

‘Shin Seojin and I are both actors the industry is looking forward to in our next works right now.’

But for both of us, these were characters we had never challenged before.

For soft-image Shin Seojin, this was his first passionate detective role.

And for me, I had never played a sociopathic analyst before.

‘But.’

Still, I had to do well.

I would do well.

How hard had it been to get this role?

I would absolutely do it justice.

As I bowed before the ritual table, I made the vow to myself once more.

“To all our actors and staff, please help make sure not a single person gets hurt.... Ooooh... honestly, I also hope the ratings do well too....”

When Director Park spoke almost like a prayer, laughter broke out around us.

And just like that, the first filming for 〈Unfair Trade〉 began.