I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

When Seomun Ihwa got home, she immediately twisted up her dry white hair. A few rough strands stuck out from the loose knot, but this was no time to care about that.

Bang—. Bang bang bang bang.

The sharp sound of her heels striking the floor rang out noisily as she ran straight into the bathroom. Before writing, she always had one habit:

cleaning her hands.

A kind of ritual for everything that would be created by her fingertips.

Shhhhhh—.

Water poured powerfully from the faucet. Seomun Ihwa pumped the hand wash several times, filling both palms with white foam.

But the light, soft bubbles were washed away in an instant beneath the cold stream, as if they had never been in her hands to begin with.

She hastily dried the moisture on a towel and ran to her laptop without even changing clothes.

“Awwng. It’s so good, right?”

Park Jaeyoung’s voice echoed in her ears.

Tap. Taptaptap.

Seomun Ihwa immediately began writing.

The words were disorganized, but she wanted to pour out everything lodged in her mind first.

A kind of impulse.

Taptaptaptaptap....

Her hands ran wild over the keyboard.

Her right and left hands moved as if swimming tirelessly through crashing waves.

“...That part was adapted, right?”

“Yes. Originally it was deeper inside the alley.”

It felt to Seomun Ihwa as if she had once again arrived in that alley from earlier.

The sewer smell.

The unpleasant darkness.

The flyers scattered on the ground.

“It was originally the scene where she waits behind the streetlamp and suddenly grabs his throat.”

At the entrance of the alley stood a streetlamp.

Hidden behind its bright light, Lee Seohae suddenly looped around the man’s neck and yanked him tight, as if binding him to the lamp itself.

No matter how much he struggled, like an animal caught in a snare, the suspect could not escape beyond the thin leather strap.

Just as humans stood at the top of the food pyramid, Lee Seohae stood above the man.

“But there’s that streetlamp, right? If there’s light, then there’s darkness, and shadows are created.”

But the adapted Lee Seohae was different.

Rather than snatching him in a single instant, she let the bait of the phone fall, making him misjudge the situation.

Like luring an animal, she led him exactly where she wanted.

For Lee Seohae, there was no coincidence.

Only the precise route she herself created.

“You know, that common thing, right, sunbae? The monster’s hand made from shadows. That kind of thing.”

Back then, beneath the dark truck where nothing could be seen, Lee Seohae’s belt had appeared like a shadow.

Like a monster manipulating darkness itself.

“It’s interesting... definitely.”

What kind of expression had the man made when it felt as if something inhuman had caught him?

Seomun Ihwa could not remember anything so trivial.

What remained vivid was Lee Seohae’s face, unconcerned even as blood dripped from the tip of her chin.

Darkness as the symbolic image inseparable from crime.

A criminal profiler who seemed to carry the very shadows that nurtured fear beneath her feet.

Even the recollection alone was electrifying.

The hands that had been endlessly sailing across the keyboard came to a sudden stop.

“...Ah....”

Something was blocked.

Because—

“...If I revise the script right now....”

On Jihwa was not a character with a large portion in 〈Seoul Metropolitan City〉.

So if she rewrote it exactly according to this feeling, she would have to overturn everything from the very beginning.

“AAAAAH....”

Seomun Ihwa slammed her forehead into the table.

Bang!

Because she hadn’t held back, her forehead immediately swelled red.

Her mind turned chaotic, as if pop-up windows of countless events were appearing at random.

The episodes that would become entangled if she revised it.

The relationships between characters.

The fights between furious actors’ agencies.

Meetings with investors....

“This is driving me insane.”

But what rose in Seomun Ihwa’s mind even more vividly than any of that—

what shone like an unread message,

what rang like a constant notification tone—

“Ha....”

—was the thin white hand that had stretched out from beneath the car.

The skin that had looked almost deathly pale beneath the streetlamp.

Lee Seohae’s hand, the one that had chilled her to the bone in an instant.

“You were hiding here.”

And then that calm voice, mixed with a faint breath.

Seomun Ihwa was an extremely sensitive person.

The kind of person who could feel as though her whole life had been shaken by the smallest stimulus.

People called it the five senses.

Sight.

Taste.

Smell.

Touch.

Hearing.

Every one of them exceeded ordinary human standards by far.

Because of that, everyday life always overwhelmed her with an endless flood of information.

The dark alley.

The inside of her mouth gone dry from tension.

The stiff texture of the storyboard in her fingertips.

The damp sewer stench.

Han Yeoreum’s voice spreading through the silent air.

Seomun Ihwa, who had been pressing her forehead against the table, lifted her head.

At some point the laptop had entered screen saver mode.

April 28, 04:28 AM

The date and time aligned perfectly.

At that moment, Seomun Ihwa’s sixth sense awakened.

Intuition.

“...I can just make Season 2.”

A certainty that it would definitely be interesting.

That was the feeling she had.

Seomun Ihwa still could not remember Bii—’s name.

In that moment, the only thing in that space was Lee Seohae.

That alone was crystal clear.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptaptap....

Without even noticing the sunrise, Seomun Ihwa began typing again.

Until the sun outside the window set, the moon rose, and the world grew dark once more.

All while remembering the white hand that had reached out from beneath the car.

* * *

Bzz. Bzz.

Do Gyeoul hit the answer button before the phone could ring three times.

“How was it?”

She asked immediately, not even taking a breath.

The person on the other end was Hyeong Changuk.

The person Do Gyeoul had planted in 〈Unfair Trade〉.

“Ah. Gyeoul. What were you doing?”

“How was the shoot?”

Hyeong Changuk sounded pleased to hear from her, but that wasn’t the answer she wanted.

There was only one thing Do Gyeoul cared about.

Han Yeoreum, who had become Lee Seohae.

“Mm... I liked it. It was really amazing. Maybe because it’s Shin Seojin’s next project. The staff are all pretty skilled too.”

“And?”

You fucking idiot.

The words rose to the tip of her tongue, but Do Gyeoul swallowed them back.

Shin Seojin didn’t matter.

Unable to even sit on the sofa, Do Gyeoul paced circles around the living room, wandering as though searching for Han Yeoreum.

“Writer Seomun Ihwa came too.”

“...Seomun Ihwa?”

Do Gyeoul stopped dead in place.

Seomun Ihwa.

Just hearing the name was enough to make people tense.

When Sunwoo Seonuk had sharply criticized Do Gyeoul’s acting, Seomun Ihwa had said nothing.

As if silently agreeing.

“Why would that writer...?”

The heavyweight writer who had created her hiatus.

Had Seomun Ihwa seen Han Yeoreum too?

Do Gyeoul’s heart pounded.

“She and Director Park are apparently old high school sunbae-hoobae. She only stayed a little while, though. Come to think of it, I should’ve greeted her properly. It was a good chance to make an impression.”

Whatever nonsense Hyeong Changuk kept rambling on about, none of it entered her ears.

The only things she wanted were the names Seomun Ihwa and Han Yeoreum.

Do Gyeoul pressed a palm to her chest, trying to force down the heart that kept trying to leap out.

Thumpthumpthumpthump.

She could feel the rapid beat.

“Today’s shoot was the scene where I chased Han Yeoreum and got my foot trapped. The rehearsal went on forever. Director Park’s direction was really obsessive. He kept saying I had to move as fast as possible when reaching out with my hand....”

Do Gyeoul stored every word into her ears as though absorbing Han Yeoreum’s performance itself.

She had long since memorized every page of the original 〈Unfair Trade〉 webtoon.

‘They adapted it?’

But Han Yeoreum’s Lee Seohae far exceeded everything Do Gyeoul had predicted.

The more she heard, the more /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ her ears tingled.

“...Yes. Thank you. Really....”

Hyeong Changuk lamented that Seomun Ihwa hadn’t stayed long on set.

But Do Gyeoul knew.

“It helped me a lot....”

Unable to withstand the explosive rush of sensation, Seomun Ihwa had left.

She had stepped away from the set so she could replay Han Yeoreum’s acting alone, over and over.

It was a guess bordering on certainty.

After hanging up, Do Gyeoul replayed the recorded call.

“When her nose started bleeding, she asked if they could do one more take. But judging by the atmosphere, I think the version with the nosebleed will air.”

“Lee Seohae... Lee Seohae.”

And on top of that, Han Yeoreum’s Lee Seohae was exactly what Do Gyeoul had been imagining.

Not off by even a hair.

Sunwoo Seonuk had always been favorable toward Han Yeoreum’s acting.

Do Gyeoul had memorized every critique he had ever published.

“So Seomun Ihwa also sees Han Yeoreum as...”

She swallowed the rest and let the corner of her mouth rise.

At the end of the gaze of the two people who had created a blank period in her life—

both of them stood looking at Han Yeoreum.

“Ahaha....”

Which meant—

“I knew I was right!”

Do Gyeoul’s choice had been correct.

The satisfaction of having chosen to capture Han Yeoreum spread through every blood vessel in her body.

It was an overwhelming thrill, like she might explode.

A perfect hundred-point answer sheet.

That was what Han Yeoreum was to Do Gyeoul.

“Yeoreum... what am I supposed to do when I like you this much....”

If she followed Han Yeoreum, there would be no more wrong answers.

The moment she realized that, Do Gyeoul smiled brightly.

She only had to walk toward the tip of the arrow pointed out by Sunwoo Seonuk and Seomun Ihwa, the two who had found the flaws in her acting.

“I hope it comes out quickly.”

Do Gyeoul meant it sincerely.

Because if she could only uncover the “socially acceptable line” of the sociopath through Han Yeoreum, she was confident she could surpass that acting.

* * *

“Yeoreum—! How are you today?”

“Ah, completely fine.”

The moment I arrived on set, people started talking to me from every direction.

One word for every step I took.

‘Ah....’

The unpleasantness I had felt again because of Hyeong Changuk melted away softly.

This is what being the protagonist tastes like....

“Yeoreum! Are you okay?”

“Yes, full of energy.”

Smack.

I gave them a high-five and kept walking forward.

The atmosphere on set was warm.

‘This is the power of Seomun Ihwa....’

Seomun Ihwa had said the storyboard looked interesting, and on top of that she had stayed to watch even the delayed shoot.

The mere fact that a master of her caliber had visited made the staff’s belief that this was a “project destined to succeed” even firmer.

“Awwng. Yeoreum, you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Let me take a look.”

“I’m really completely fine....”

Director Park grabbed my cheeks and turned my face from side to side to inspect me.

Thankfully, that day the nosebleed had not stopped quickly.

Exactly as I had expected.

‘It came out well without needing extra makeup.’

Because the nosebleed kept running during the multiple angles they captured, there had been no major delay.

If anything, it had turned out even better.

“Good. Wait just a little longer. Let’s finish setting the set and then go in.”

Director Park sat me down in his own chair.

‘Is this... actual favoritism?’

Now not only do I have my own place on set, I’m sitting in the director’s chair.

Han Yeoreum, you’ve really made it.

I picked up the script to check today’s section one more time.

And then—

Ding!

「Hidden Mission: Inspire Someone」

You have moved the heart of a genius!

A new scenario is being written around you.

Reward

[A Random Skill Draw Ticket] will be granted.

The status window appeared.

* * *

The supporting male lead of the century.

Who was that?

“Hyung, are we almost there?”

“Yeah. Hold on.”

It was Taejin, the man from 〈The Great Garland〉 who had made countless viewers clutch their chests.

Shin Seojin, who had earned the title of the greatest supporting male lead in K-drama history, pulled aside the mini curtain on the van window.

“The weather’s nice today.”

Beyond the glass stretched the blue spring sky.

As he quietly took in the road leading to the set, the navigation voice sounded.

—You are near your destination.

Hearing the mechanical voice, Shin Seojin checked his pocket.

His fingers touched something.

For one final check before heading to set, he turned on his phone screen.

“Okay, okay.”

After confirming something, he smiled.

His long, handsome monolid eyes curved.

On Shin Seojin’s phone screen was someone’s back.

A woman with short hair.