I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

Kim Kangil: Not answering? Fuck, what—does keeping your mouth shut make you something?

“Should I repeat the question?”

The reporter’s voice pressed for an answer. In that moment, I understood what kind of response Myeong Jeha had been pointing me toward.

In the sharp, tense atmosphere, I forced a smile and lifted my head.

“I’m sorry. I think I was just really nervous today... my mind went completely blank.”

For a question like this, avoiding it was the correct answer.

‘If I speak well of traditional broadcasters, they’ll spin it into criticism of NetHolics. If I highlight NetHolics’ strengths, they’ll frame it as putting down existing networks.’

Better to answer in a way that belongs to neither side.

“What I can say is that everyone is working hard across all platforms, so I’d be really grateful if people enjoy the content... yes, something like that. I’m sorry.”

In truth, I’d done script readings plenty of times. There was no real reason for me to be this nervous.

But Manager Ma from JC ENM would probably spin it somehow.

“Oh. That’s exactly what I wanted to say. Looks like we’re on the same wavelength. Then we’ll do our best to greet viewers with a high-quality production, and with that, we’ll wrap up the script reading after a short video message from each of you. Thank you all for taking the time to be here.”

Director Oh immediately backed me up. Seeing that, I knew this had been the right answer.

When I turned slightly to look at Myeong Jeha, the corner of his lips lifted as if to say, well done.

The script reading session finally came to an end.

* * *

“What was that earlier?”

“I wasn’t the only one who found that weird, right?”

“Ugh, this is seriously annoying.”

After the session, I could hear the reporters’ dissatisfied voices.

‘This is my first time at a script reading like this....’

Maybe because I’d gotten used to the favorable atmosphere around me, the tension hit harder than usual.

I didn’t leave right away. Instead, I leaned against the door and listened to the conversation outside.

“There’s no way her screen time will really be that small when it airs, right? It’s Han Yeoreum, after all.”

“Come on. There’s no way Jegal Rok would let that slide.”

The reporters began throwing out their own theories.

“I heard something somewhere—I wasn’t sure if it was just a rumor, but I think it’s true. Originally, Seomun Ihwa didn’t plan to include Han Yeoreum, but Jegal Rok requested it through NetHolics and pushed her in.”

“Oh, is that the spoiler they mentioned earlier? Is there a part where she gets linked with Myeong Jeha in the story?”

“Then it makes sense that Seomun Ihwa didn’t want to include her. If those two get paired up with the momentum from , it’ll feel like Taeseok-Huijae all over again.”

The rumors started gaining weight. Guesswork was slowly turning into certainty.

“Then doesn’t that make her appearance in NetHolics’ first production kind of meaningless?”

As I listened to their grumbling, I refreshed my phone screen. Articles had already piled up.

[NetHolics Korea, script reading scene... “Are they even prepared?” Cold atmosphere]

[High-quality blockbuster for just ‘10,000 won a month’—Seomun Ihwa’s confidence in ]

[Han Yeoreum: “NetHolics? I’m not really sure” awkward smile]

[Introduction withheld? A well-set table with nothing to eat—will succeed?]

Malicious articles were already flooding in. I let out a small sigh.

“Ha...”

The reporters’ complaints didn’t stop.

Then—

a familiar voice.

“Still, with Seomun Ihwa, O Seonyul, and Jegal Rok attached, I’d say the outcome is already decided.”

It was Reporter Wi.

“Fair. That combination can’t fail. It’s just fucking annoying they called us here and then kept their mouths shut.”

“So what is Han Yeoreum’s character? I’m dying of curiosity!”

“Come to think of it, shouldn’t Han Yeoreum be included in that lineup anyway? None of her projects have flopped so far.”

“She’s Jegal Rok’s pick, so just take it as a package deal. Still, her filmography is solid.”

The conversation slowly shifted into something more favorable toward me.

Then someone voiced what everyone was thinking.

“What the hell did Seomun Ihwa do to her role for it to end up like that? So is Han Yeoreum a hidden card—or just a throwaway?”

I wanted to step out right then and say it.

‘I’m not a throwaway!’

Thanks to the status window that had appeared when I showed Lee Seohae in front of Seomun Ihwa, I already knew the answer.

「Hidden Mission: Inspire someone」

You have moved the heart of a genius! A new scenario is being written around you.

So it was fine.

Even if my screen time was reduced, even if I didn’t have a single line in the script reading, even if I was hit with aggressive questions, even if I became a target because of it—it was all fine.

‘Because I can show it through acting.’

Stories that go too smoothly aren’t satisfying anyway. A little unfair struggle makes the ending hit harder.

Thinking that way, my mind eased.

I pushed myself off the door I’d been leaning against.

‘Time to go.’

Just as I turned the corner of the private hall with light steps—

“What took you so long? I’ve got something to say to you, Yeoreum.”

I ran straight into Myeong Jeha, who looked like he had been waiting for me.

“Huh? Oh. I just... yeah.”

Caught off guard by seeing him somewhere I hadn’t expected, my eyes widened.

But only for a moment. Maybe because of that dream before, the second I looked at his face, I quickly turned my gaze away.

Who am I?

Han Yeoreum—the prepared future top actress who always handles her schedule with professionalism. Especially in public settings like this, I’m someone who knows the importance of maintaining composure. Don’t get hung up on dreams. Stay calm.

“Why are you acting like this? This is suspicious.”

His teasing voice sounded strangely unfamiliar today.

‘I need to keep my head straight. Filming starts soon.’

That dream last time really wasn’t like me.

If I kept seeing his face like this, that disrespectful dream might not stay a one-time thing.

‘Absolutely not!!’

Even the smallest change in condition affects performance quality. At least, that’s what I believe.

Once filming starts, everything—eating, sleeping, resting—has to be controlled. If I keep having dreams like that, I won’t sleep properly. Then I won’t eat properly. And if I can’t rest properly—

‘What about my On Jihwa?’

Am I supposed to just get devoured by Do Gyeoul’s acting? Get overshadowed by Myeong Jeha?

‘No way.’

Who am I? Han Yeoreum—the one who, even without a single line in the script reading, will make On Jihwa’s presence overwhelming the moment the camera rolls.

“I-I have to go see Director Kang Hanseong. So... yeah. I’ve got, um, timing...”

But unlike my thoughts, the words that came out weren’t clean.

My brain had been running calculations like a top actor’s survival instinct, and multitasking wasn’t going well. Me—someone who never fumbled lines—stumbling over my words only made me look more suspicious.

‘This is why I should’ve messed up my lines more often.’

Being too perfect really is a problem...

Myeong Jeha crossed his arms ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) and looked down at me. Under that gaze, I added an excuse for no reason.

“You did really well at the script reading today... and thank you for the interview. But I was really nervous earlier, so I’d like to go rest for a bit, sir...”

Just go. That dream was enough once.

But I could still feel his eyes on me.

I slowly took a step back. As the distance grew, Myeong Jeha moved too. For every three steps I took back, he took one forward.

Until there was nowhere left to retreat, and my back hit the wall—our toes touching.

“Look at me.”

“Oh, I’m good.”

“What is wrong with you? You said we liked each other before.”

“Me? When did I ever say that?”

Did he have the same dream? What? Was that dream one of Myeong Jeha’s regressions? Does he remember?

I snapped my head up without realizing it, and his face was suddenly close.

“I’m starting to feel hurt.”

Tilting his head slightly, Myeong Jeha frowned.

“Don’t you remember?”

“This feels like a malicious edit...”

“Stop using weird abbreviations.”

“Guess it’s too modern for you, sir.”

Just then, his phone rang. A vibration buzzed from inside his pocket.

Bzz—. Bzz—. Bzz—.

He checked the caller ID but didn’t answer. Instead, he asked me,

“Were you upset about not having any lines?”

“....”

I thought about the question for a moment, then shook my head.

“I’ll do well even without lines.”

I can. Definitely.

“The interview got aggressive. That surprised you, didn’t it?”

This time, I nodded.

“A little.”

“It’s fine. It’ll get buried soon, so don’t worry about it too much.”

Was that why he waited for me?

The call seemed urgent—on the second vibration, even he couldn’t ignore it.

“I’ll go. Pick up when I call.”

Soon, even more aggressive articles would be uploaded.

I could already imagine the sarcastic lines written next to my name.

Even though I had been thinking about it just moments ago—

“....”

Strangely, I felt like it would be okay.