I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

* * *

Right after the script reading ended, the interview began immediately. The reporters, having already sensed something strange, all turned their attention toward me.

“I have a question for the director—would it be alright if it’s different from the pre-submitted questions?”

The first reporter to raise their hand spoke.

‘Reporter Wi!’

It was Wi Jaehwi from Daily Media. Director Oh looked at him for a moment, then gestured to a nearby staff member.

The staff approached Reporter Wi, asked for the question first, then whispered it into Director Oh’s ear.

“Yes. I expected that to be a point of curiosity. You may change your question.”

“Thank you for allowing that. During today’s script reading, On Jihwa had no lines—was that due to spoilers, or does the character simply have very few lines? Or perhaps... does On Jihwa hold something not revealed in the character introduction?”

It was a sharp question. Director Oh nodded.

“You can think of it as... all three.”

It wasn’t a precise answer, but it was unexpected. Camera shutters went off all at once.

They were pointed at me.

With that one answer, the atmosphere of the interview subtly shifted. From warm and proactive, it turned into something sharper—questions being carefully selected and honed before being thrown.

‘...Sharp.’

When people ask questions with smiles and answer with smiles, while both sides know that’s not what they truly mean.

The interview continued like a tightrope pull, teetering on the edge. The next reporter to receive the microphone stared straight through me.

As if waiting for me to slip up on something.

“Then I’d like to ask Han Yeoreum. During today’s script reading, was there any part where you thought, ‘I really wish I could have shown this’? You don’t have to say the line itself—just briefly tell us which part you’re most confident in.”

Perhaps realizing they wouldn’t get any more concrete answers from Director Oh, another reporter turned to me.

“I’m sorry, but we won’t be taking any more questions that weren’t submitted in advance.”

But the one I was up against was a director with twenty years of experience. He smoothly deflected the question aimed at me.

‘But if this keeps up...’

In an instant, the air in the room turned cold. Completely different from when the script reading had first begun.

‘There’s nothing that frustrates reporters more than not giving them something to write about.’

There was something all warm, friendly production briefings and script readings had in common.

It was that the cast and production team showed a cooperative attitude toward the press first.

But if they became defensive over the very things the public would be curious about...

...then naturally, the atmosphere would sink.

“Actor Myeong Jeha, you’ve played a wide range of roles—Crown Prince Sado, a police officer, a seaside boy. But this time, unlike your usual choices, you’re taking on a character closer to a ‘villain.’ Is there a reason for that?”

“Hmm... first of all, the character Kim Kangil itself was so immersive that I felt this urgency—like, ‘I have to do this.’ As you briefly saw in today’s reading, the pull was incredible, right?”

At Myeong Jeha’s skillful answer, a few reporters nodded.

He wasn’t just answering questions—he was leading the interview as if he were hosting it himself.

He was trying to ease the tension that had just turned cold, carefully responding to each question.

But in the end, what reporters wanted was something that would drive clicks.

“Unlike films, dramas have a longer runtime. In your last project, , you only appeared as a child actor, and many viewers found that disappointing. Should we expect more screen time from you in this work?”

The interview turned into a battle—reporters trying to pull out spoilers, and Myeong Jeha smiling as he deflected them.

“Regardless of screen time, I’ll make sure to leave a strong impact.”

He cut it off cleanly.

Then the attention shifted to Do Gyeoul.

“I have a question for Actor Do Gyeoul. This project is a much more intense genre than your previous works—what made you decide to take on this shift?”

As always, Do Gyeoul gave the perfect answer.

“I’ve always wanted to try an apocalypse genre like this, and more than anything, it was such an honor to receive a script from Writer Seomun Ihwa. At first, I accepted it without much hesitation.”

There was nothing to criticize in her smooth response.

“But as I read the script, the character Yoo Yeonji became incredibly appealing to me. There were many aspects I could learn from, and the idea of fulfilling one’s role while standing at the boundary between humans and zombies really resonated with me.”

Another reporter followed up.

“There were eyewitness accounts that you volunteered at a nursing hospital while preparing for this role. Is that true?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing to talk about since it wasn’t anything extraordinary... but yes, it’s true. I wanted to learn basic everyday acting by observing medical staff. Ahaha.”

Seeing them bring up a “good deed” story, it was obvious that reporter had connections with Do Gyeoul’s agency.

In the end, throughout the interview, there wasn’t a single key detail the reporters could extract.

Questions aimed at me were blocked by Director Oh, Myeong Jeha skillfully dodged his, and Do Gyeoul only kept repeating in different ways that she would approach the role seriously.

Catch something. Just one thing.

It felt like every ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) reporter in the room was thinking exactly that.

And then, the final question.

“Lastly, a question for Actor Han Yeoreum. With NetHolics entering the market, many expect the industry to change significantly. What would you say is the difference between traditional broadcasters and NetHolics?”

A sharp question was aimed straight at me. At the same time, the room fell silent, waiting for my answer.

‘This is bad. No matter how I answer, it could sound like I’m taking a shot at traditional broadcasters...’

[Han Yeoreum sparks controversy with comments on “differences between traditional broadcasters and NetHolics”]

[K-drama shaken... Han Yeoreum smiles brightly while introducing NetHolics as an “innovative global platform”]

[StarCut★ Han Yeoreum: “How long are you going to keep watching for free?” one remark causes stir]

[Broadcast industry shaken... insiders “sweating” over Han Yeoreum’s statement]

[NetHolics’ first original clashes head-on with terrestrial networks... “Content should now be paid for,” says Han Yeoreum]

I could see the frame the reporter wanted.

Whether I smiled or not, depending on the headline, it could be twisted into something malicious.

-Anonymous 1: Wait, so we have to pay to watch dramas now? lol I used to like Han Yeoreumㅠ Guess celebrities really think differently from regular people

↳ Anonymous 12: This is so real, the elitist mindset is insane

-Anonymous 25: Here we go again, actors whining LMAO First movies, now dramas too? Acting like we owe them something^^!!

↳ Anonymous 49: Wow, instant turn-off; your acting isn’t worth that price

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, my mind went completely blank for a moment.

And then—

Tap.

Myeong Jeha, sitting next to me, lightly nudged me with the tip of his shoe.

At the edge of my vision, I saw his hand resting on the script.

He pointed to a line written there.