I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

* * *

I was going crazy. I stared at my ankle wrapped in a hot compress.

“Yeoreum, are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

“I’m fine, but....”

It was an accident caused by a lighting rig collapsing. Thankfully, I hadn’t been seriously hurt thanks to Shin Seojin senior yanking me away in time, but the problem was....

“What about Shin Seojin senior?”

“Hoo.... For now, he injured the ligament in his ankle, so it looks like he won’t be able to run for at least two weeks.”

It was Shin Seojin.

“Still, thank goodness. It only grazed him.... Everyone was worried it might’ve broken his ankle.”

Manager Choi’s words were half right and half wrong.

‘It’s a relief we’re not in a situation where filming becomes impossible altogether, but....’

A detective who couldn’t run even when facing an urgent case right in front of him was the worst possible character in a genre piece.

‘If this goes wrong, Gam Seonghwan’s entire character build-up so far gets ruined.’

And of all times, the footage we had to shoot right now absolutely required action scenes. Running down steep stairs, rolling, throwing punches.

It was the kind of relentless sequence that made viewers sweat through their palms.

“For now, Yeoreum, we need to monitor your condition until tomorrow, so let’s stay here for tonight. Unni will go grab your things from the car.”

After Manager Choi left, I sat alone in the hospital room and looked down at my ankle.

‘It would’ve been better if the light had just hit me instead....’

Lee Seohae was a character who used her brain, so she didn’t need excessive action scenes.

As it happened, this was the scene where Lee Seohae headed to another location and secured decisive evidence, while Gam Seonghwan confronted the culprit and got into a physical fight, so it would have been better if I had been the one injured.

“What do I do....”

One by one, failed hit projects from the past streamed through my head.

[Lead actor suffers repeated injuries, main broadcast canceled... emergency special episode replaces it]

[KBC devastated as ratings continue to fall... decision made to “halt filming”]

[Production team of bombarded with criticism... “Excessively dangerous filming” enrages netizens]

[Yoo Jiwook uploads selfie to SNS saying, “I’m okay, so don’t worry”... Episode 12 ratings hit 7.8%]

If the directing or story had to be hastily altered to accommodate a lead actor who couldn’t carry out the action scenes, the overall tone would inevitably warp.

‘And viewers are the most sensitive to a change in pacing....’

Forced emotional acceleration, awkward editing points, articles about the ratings constantly dropping—once people who had been enjoying it started seeing that, they would inevitably think, ‘Is that true?’ and leave.

-Right when got to the most exciting part, it cuts off, and all the hype just dies... T_T I’m gonna just binge the ending later and drop it

˪2222 Seriously who the hell edited the traitor reveal episode LOLOL wow all my excitement just went ice cold

-Guys is seriously a masterpiece....TT_TT

˪It’s so sad this became one of those dramas only people in the know talk about f*ck

Once it reached that point, no matter how good the acting was or how solid the story remained, there was no turning it back.

There were too many works that had ended as “masterpieces only known by those who knew,” just like that.

“What do I do, what do I do....”

For a moment, I lowered my head because of the bad endings that kept flashing through my mind.

‘Before the regression, things like this happened too many times to count....’

Maybe because it had been so long since sudden misfortune had struck, the inside of my mouth had gone dry.

At times like this, there was only one person I could think of.

I called Myeong Jeha.

-Yeah.

“Eoreushin!”

I had never been this glad to hear Myeong Jeha’s voice.

After hearing me out, he was silent for a moment.

“What do I do? Things were finally going so well for us. The atmosphere on set was amazing because everyone really thought we could beat them....”

-So you’re not seriously hurt, Yeoreum?

“Is that what matters right now? Shin Seojin senior tore his ligament.”

-I know you’re panicking, but can you answer what I asked first?

“...Thankfully I only twisted it a little, so filming is completely fine for me, but the lead got hurt.... Ah, seriously, just tell me what we should do.”

-Hmm.... Got it. What was the scene you were supposed to film today again?

I explained the episode to Myeong Jeha. The more I talked, the more hopeless it sounded.

To put it bluntly, the drama could continue without Lee Seohae, but if Gam Seonghwan was removed, everything would collapse.

The absence of Shin Seojin, who had to be the center, only felt bigger and bigger.

-Is the first half already filmed?

“Not that either. Still, there aren’t that many physically demanding scenes there, so we can probably manage once Seojin senior returns to set.... The problem is the last fifteen minutes are basically about to vanish.”

The hook section in the latter half was more important than anything.

If that part failed, it was basically the same as losing the power to make people watch the next episode.

‘The more I say it out loud, the more I realize... there really is no clear answer.’

But unlike what I expected, Myeong Jeha answered immediately.

-Change the last fifteen minutes of the story.

“What?”

-Make it Lee Seohae, not Gam Seonghwan, who faces the culprit. You learned well at the action academy, right? It’s time to use it in real combat.

“Does that even make sense?”

-Why wouldn’t it? If anything, viewers will find it fresh. Haha. Since Lee Seohae physically can’t subdue the culprit in one go, it’ll feel even more nerve-racking.

In an instant, Myeong Jeha completely swapped Gam Seonghwan and Lee Seohae’s positions.

-Roll down the stairs together, take a couple of hits.... End the final scene on your face and there’s no problem with the hook section. The action after that should be on a schedule Shin Seojin can handle again, right?

I was going into the action scene instead of Shin Seojin?

“Will the lead even agree to that? Seojin's agency won’t just sit still either.”

-Maybe in the moment they won’t. But once they cool their heads and think about it for two days, they’ll realize that’s the only answer, so they’ll end up turning that way anyway.

Myeong Jeha wasn’t finished.

-And for the middle part... there’ll definitely be a sense of emptiness, so if you add one cameo strong enough to numb the viewers’ attention—

A cameo?

My ears perked up instantly at the unexpected answer.

“A cameo, a cameo—will you come?”

-Sorry, but I’m not at that level yet... I’m lacking in mass appeal.

Myeong Jeha alone would’ve been more than enough to grab TV viewers, and the buzz factor would be huge too.

-Even if it’s disappointing, not me.

Only after hearing what he said next did the anxiety finally leave me.

It works. It works. A certainty settled inside me that 〈Unfair Trade〉 could become an unforgettable drama.

-So don’t worry too much.

At those words from Myeong Jeha, it really felt like everything would turn out fine.

I immediately opened the door to head toward where Shin Seojin was.

* * *

Shin Seojin lay on the hospital bed, staring up at the white ceiling.

“It hurts....”

“Hyung, are you okay? Hyung, does it hurt a lot? Should I call the medical staff? Hyung, what do we do?”

“My heart....”

Shin Seojin closed his eyes at the fussing staff member who had followed him to the hospital.

He had seen far too many projects collapse exactly like this. If someone asked him to name them, he could list them without hesitation.

It was the sort of thing that happened all too often on sets that required action scenes.

A falling accident during historical drama filming, fractures during car stunts, and so on.

‘What do I do.... This is my first lead role.’

Shin Seojin let out a sigh. He knew too well that if things continued like this, the only thing left was for the ratings to drop back into the single digits.

“Hyung, does your heart hurt a lot? Do you think this gave you trauma? Should I arrange psychological counseling too?”

Just as the staff member was panicking at Shin Seojin’s deep sigh, a perfectly timed knock sounded at the door.

Knock knock.

“Who is it?”

“Senior! Can I come in?”

“Okay okay. Come in—.”

The door opened, and Han Yeoreum walked in.

She was holding the script in her hand.

“Are you okay, actor?”

“I’m fine thanks to you, senior. Just a slight twist, that’s all. What’s the situation on set right now?”

“Aigoo.... The set? They wrapped immediately.... Oh, let me step out and take this call for a second! You two talk!”

After the staff member left, Han Yeoreum sat down in the spare chair.

“Senior, thank you. You didn’t even need to get hurt, but because of me.... Does it hurt a lot?”

“Yeah.... My heart....”

“Oh no....”

“It’s just so sad that my cool moment wasn’t captured anywhere because we weren’t rolling.... At least the making camera should’ve been on.”

Shin Seojin made an exaggerated tearful face.

At that, the corners of Han Yeoreum’s lips slowly curled into a smile as she clutched the script tighter.

“It’s probably already spreading around as a heartwarming story anyway. I heard you didn’t even get angry?”

“I couldn’t. The youngest lighting team member was a girl.... Guys who get mad over things like that aren’t popular with women.”

“As expected of the best senior. A gentleman among gentlemen, Shin Seojin.”

“But why the script?”

“Senior, I gave it a liiittle thought. What if... we tweak the shoot just a little?”

Han Yeoreum opened the script, its edges frayed from how many times she had looked at it.

When she flipped to the point where the accident had happened, the pages were filled with notes and what looked like freshly written changes.

Shin Seojin took the script.

Swapping Gam Seonghwan and Lee Seohae’s scenes.

It was a point he had never even considered.

“I’m really sorry, and I know it must be shocking, that after you already let me take the Episode 1 ending scene, I’m now asking to take the Episode 9 ending too—”

“I like it.”

Shin Seojin cut her off.

There was no need to hear more.

“Huh?”

Han Yeoreum’s eyes widened into circles, clearly not having expected this reaction.

Her confusion was understandable.

“But... you’re the lead, senior....”

Giving the spotlight that belonged to the first-billed lead over to the second lead was never easy.

This industry was brutal.

It was common for companies to fight endless wars over whose name got written first.

So for Shin Seojin, the first lead, to have already stepped back once in Episode 1 made it unreasonable enough for her to even suggest a script revision like this.

“So what? Better than the ratings dropping, right? Isn’t that obvious? Ah, what a relief. I was seriously going blind with panic.”

“Are you really okay with this?”

But what she was overlooking was one thing—

“None of that matters right now. Strip everything else away and just look at the conclusion. Does it flop, or does it not? If there are only two choices, of course you pick the one where it doesn’t flop.”

Shin Seojin was an actor who had climbed up from the floor.

“Senior....”

“I’ll call the director myself, so don’t tell him you brought it up first. Just say I was the one who suggested it. Otherwise the companies will start another meeting over whose screen time is bigger, whether my feelings got hurt, everyone tiptoeing around each other, and it’ll just waste time. Honestly, thinking about it already makes my chest feel stuffy. Okay okay?”

His first lead role succeeding was far too desperate a dream to waste time nitpicking over that kind of thing.

“That confident, big-hearted side you just showed? It’s exactly the kind of man women would love.”

“Ah, really? Which part? I should take notes.”

“The fact that you don’t know the exact point is especially....”

“Then I should just keep not knowing.”

Shin Seojin lightly waved Han Yeoreum’s script in his hand.

“Anyway, go back first. Keep doing great until I get there.”

By the time Han Yeoreum stood from her chair, her face had already returned to the confidence she always wore.

It was the face of someone certain she could pull off the performance no matter how the script changed.

“Just leave it to me!”

* * *

“...What did you say?”

Park Jaeyoung doubted his own ears at the phone call.

“Uh, Seojin.... I think I heard wrong, so sorry, but can you say that one more time...?”

-Director, I don’t think there’ll be any major issues if Yeoreum and I just switch positions slightly in that scene. Yeoreum might feel a little pressured because of the action she didn’t originally have, but since I asked, she said she’d give it a try.

“...You’re really saying you want to reduce your own scenes... and give them to Yeoreum?”

-Then what else are we supposed to do? We have to push as far as we can.

Up until the moment he saw Shin Seojin’s name on the screen, Director Park had been imagining every possible worst-case scenario.

It could have escalated into demands for the director himself to be replaced.

But what came through the receiver was instead a proposal capable of saving 〈Unfair Trade〉 just before it hit rock bottom.

“....”

Director Park was speechless for a moment.

It had not even been [N O V E L I G H T] half a day since the accident.

And yet the recovery was already beginning.

The lead actor himself was stepping in.

At this rate, filming would resume soon.

No holes. No clumsy edits. No broken emotional arc.

The 〈Unfair Trade〉 Park Jaeyoung had intended to create would continue exactly as planned.

-Anyway, revise it as fast as possible and send over the script. If I come back and the set atmosphere is still like a funeral house, I’m seriously going to get mad.

Things were resolving in a direction he had never imagined.

“Seojin.... I, no, all of us... no matter what happens....”

Park Jaeyoung squeezed his eyes shut.

“We’re taking first place for the third-quarter dramas.”

-That goes without saying. Ah, right. About the cameo.

At what Shin Seojin said next, Park Jaeyoung repeated himself once again.

“Uh, Seojin.... I think I heard wrong, so sorry, but can you say that one more time...?”

* * *

Ji Haebeom walked slowly across his spacious living room.

He was going to greet the manager who had just arrived with the script.

“Mm. Meonji’s bored.”

Picking up the cat rubbing against his feet, Ji Haebeom accepted the script labeled 〈Unfair Trade〉.

“Haebeom-ah. Were you really that close with Shin Seojin? Close enough to do a cameo?”

“No, not for him....”

Sitting leisurely in the chair in the living room, Ji Haebeom opened the script.

It was a role with only a few lines, but he could tell exactly why they had cast him.

“I was thinking of going to watch it one more time anyway.”

A man who looked better the darker it got.

Ji Haebeom was set to become a cameo in 〈Unfair Trade〉 as one of the suspects interrogated by Lee Seohae.