I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

Is this right? The audition line stretched all the way to the lobby on the first floor.

‘Ah. Right. Of course.’

This was the entertainment industry. A floor overflowing with people who would give anything just to have their faces appear on screen for even three seconds. Landing a single role was about as difficult as plucking a star out of the sky.

* * *

“Yes. Thank you, next—.”

Director Gong didn’t have a spare second to breathe between the endless auditions. Looking at the next participant’s résumé, he simply thought:

‘I’m having soft tofu stew for dinner.’

There wasn’t anyone who left any particular impact. Everyone’s prepared acting was all moderately similar, moderately dull.

‘Is it inevitable because of the nature of the role?’

Rather than studying the role, all they were doing was spitting out lines and making expressions.

“What do you think happens next?”

“Pardon? By next... do you mean after the ending part?”

“No. After Influencer 1 helps with the infiltration.”

“Um... I think they’d hope the police catch them. That kind of thought.”

No one could answer his spontaneous ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) questions properly.

“Wouldn’t they follow along? It’s dangerous to stay alone at the scene.”

“Of course they should follow! They’ve built rapport, and Influencer 1 would rely heavily on the two detectives.”

Even the somewhat analyzed answers didn’t stir anything in him. Nothing left an impression.

“Yes. Thank you, next—.”

Director Gong’s auditions were always clean and simple. No unnecessary frills.

At most, he gave them ten minutes. And finally—

“Hello. I’m Han Yeoreum.”

Yeoreum’s turn arrived.

‘You’re here! Pi Chaewon!’

Everyone sitting as judges already knew who she was.

Thanks to the unusual success of , but even more because Director Gong had rewritten the script for Han Yeoreum alone. Because of that, this audition was a double-edged sword.

Would she live up to the heightened expectations? Or disappoint?

“Yes. Then begin with the lines in the script.”

With Director Gong’s instruction, Yeoreum opened her mouth.

“Mm~! Me? Hoo... of course I got invited! I’m different from those kids who catch people by smashing tables. I’m really gonna film the traffic light and upload it!”

.

A male buddy film in which a hot-headed detective whose fists fly first and an elite detective who prioritizes rational investigation team up to sweep out criminals.

It had been called a typical cliché work, but because it satisfied exactly the kind of entertainment audiences wanted, its reception was always strong.

circulating around the Gangnam district.

The hallucinogenic balloon , known only among those who knew, was disguised as a party item and sold quietly. It didn’t stop at with its high addiction—it escalated under an organization’s distribution into and , each stage stronger than the last. Several times more addictive than alcohol, combined with hallucinatory effects.

The series had spread so widely that it had become hard to catch.

The higher-ups began trying to cover up crimes committed by people intoxicated on the drug....

‘The role Han Yeoreum will take here could become a key point, or it could end as just another supporting character.’

To catch the Funny series, the detectives needed to conduct club-infiltration investigations. The role that helped the detectives infiltrate more easily was exactly Yeoreum’s role—Influencer 1.

‘Her voice is definitely good. If Pi Chaewon sounded like a student, this one is more like... someone who just became a college freshman, a frivolous twenty-year-old.’

‘Did she change her hairstyle? She really looks like an influencer.’

‘She’s better than I expected.’

The judges sitting next to him were already leaning toward Han Yeoreum.

“Thank you.”

Finishing the lines, Yeoreum bowed. Director Gong asked a question—hoping she, at least, would answer properly.

“What do you think happens next?”

“You mean Influencer 1’s actions?”

“Yes. After helping the club infiltration. She must exist somewhere on-screen. What would Influencer 1 be doing outside the frame?”

Yeoreum answered without flinching.

“I think she would stay inside the room.”

It was an unexpected answer. Director Gong’s eyes gleamed.

“Why? How come? There are guys in that room who just got knocked down by Detective Kwak. They might get back up. They’re not in their right minds, so it’d be dangerous.”

“But there are also women who collapsed from drinking. You never know what crimes might follow. They might become hostages. I can’t just leave those people behind and go alone.”

“The organization members are all knocked out too. Wouldn’t they run outside instead?”

“Outside is dangerous as well. You don’t know how many remaining members might be out there, and once the investigation begins, I don’t think any member would act rationally.”

No matter what question he threw, she answered vividly. As if she were actually at the scene.

The audition room suddenly felt like a club room—loud music blaring, reeking of whiskey. The dopamine that comes from imagination turning concrete pulsed through the creators.

“Then what would Influencer 1 do inside?”

“She’d hide in a corner and touch the radio device in her ear.”

“To check whether she can call for help?”

“Yes. The radio is still connected to the detectives, and if things go wrong, she would think Detective Kwak will come back for her.”

It wasn’t just Director Gong. Everyone listening to Yeoreum felt a strong interest.

The questions didn’t stop.

“She tends to the collapsed women?”

“Yes.”

“Why? How come? Influencer 1 is a simple character who thought apologizing might get her forgiven even after causing a car accident, and the collapsed women are men she met for the first time today.”

“Because Influencer 1’s appearance ends in that scene.”

The frame Director Gong perceived grew wider and wider. Not 16:9—but 1.43:1. Like the size of an IMAX screen expanding.

“Even an extra should be a good person. If there’s no story afterward to explain anything, then they need to end as a good person.”

“A good person? Why?”

“Because people watching this movie expect social goodwill. Not everyone cheers just because everything gets destroyed. They feel catharsis watching injustices they’ve only ever confronted in their heads being defeated.... Everyone except the organization that created the Funny series needs to be good. Even subconsciously, they can’t show cowardice.”

Director Gong’s lips curved. Yes. This was it. Everything he wanted to say was being defined right here.

“I think ’s charm is that even the moment the audience stands up after the movie ends, there shouldn’t be even a trace of lingering discomfort. Even one extra cannot run away. Even if they hide behind something, they can’t flee.”

Director Gong picked up the script in front of him. There was nothing more to see.

“Passed!”

He immediately held the script out to Yeoreum.

“That’s it, exactly! That’s the Influencer 1 I imagined! Read it again with that.”

The script was the final version Director Gong had written last time.

“I’ve already added scenes for that role—exactly as you described.”

At last, the over-30-minute audition ended, and the role Han Yeoreum would play gained more lines. Her first film appearance ever.

* * *

I feel like I could fly. Hugging the script to my chest, I ran down the streets of Chungmuro. No matter how much I ran, I didn’t get out of breath.

‘Finally, finally. Finally!!!’

I was so overwhelmed I wanted to grab anyone and brag. I, who never had even a single one-line part, finally got a role with actual screen time. I ran and ran in a daze. All of Chungmuro felt like my world.

Dding-!

Then, the next mission window popped up.

「Mission: You Inside the Screen」

Keyword: TV Debut

Let’s step into a slightly bigger world now! Go beyond Intube—enter TV!

Success Conditions

[It must be a public broadcasting station.]

Rewards

Increase in [Fame]

Increase in [Delivery]

Obtain [Title]

Obtain [Lucky Points 700p]

“...A debut on public TV?”

I suddenly became calm. I even stopped running to read the mission window.

“Ha....”

How was I supposed to break into public TV without even an agency? And with what? As I sighed shortly, a familiar picture came into view. It was the Olive0 store. My photo was posted outside.

“It starts today!!!”

The advertisement had begun. I grabbed the door handle as if possessed.

Ddalang-.

The chime rang brightly. Under the bright lighting, cosmetics were neatly arranged in rows.

I walked toward the hair corner. On a small monitor hanging from the ceiling, the commercial I filmed was playing.

[You know. ALAB.]

The screen changed every moment. The product appeared, then shifted to my side profile with my hair blowing in the wind. Then again—to my face looking straight at the camera.

“Isn’t that her?”

Someone whispered near me as they looked at the screen.

“Pi Chaewon... it looks like her.”

“The hair color is different. It’s not her.”

I turned around immediately. Students in school uniforms gasped and covered their mouths.

“It is, right? You’re Pi Chaewon!”

“Yes~ that’s me~.”

The students squealed cutely and asked for photos. I didn’t refuse and stood beside them right away. After taking several pictures, they even asked for an autograph, but I had no autograph yet and had to decline.

“Unni. You have to make an autograph later....”

“Yes. I promise.”

“We’re really fans. We even bought the sneakers because of you.”

“And we’ll definitely buy the treatment too!”

They were my first fans I met outside, but I couldn’t just make kids spend money.

‘Good thing all the web drama appearance fees came in.’

Maybe I should spend some money.

* * *

Myeong Jeha reached out to end the call that suddenly came in. But when he saw the name displayed on the screen, he answered immediately.

“You passed the role?”

Of course she must have. Myeong Jeha simply assumed Yeoreum had called to brag.

He buried himself in the sofa, preparing to listen earnestly.

But the story he heard next was nothing he expected.