I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

Sitting about a hand’s width apart, Myeong Jeha and I had a large tub of ice cream placed between us.

I shifted my gaze, imagining a TV set in front of us, and took a spoonful.

As I reached for another scoop, I deliberately fumbled the motion.

“My hand...”

When I held out my palm toward him, Myeong Jeha took it as if it were second nature. He brought it close to his lips and gently blew warm air over it.

The soft breath brushing between my fingers made my heart itch in a pleasant way, and I smiled.

“Ah—”

Pulling the tub into his lap, Myeong Jeha scooped up a large spoonful. At his silent cue, I obediently opened my mouth.

With careful hands, he fed me the ice cream, and a faint smear of vanilla cream remained on my upper lip.

I met his eyes.

A young couple who hadn’t been dating long. A warm spring day. The perfect timing for a kiss.

I looked at Myeong Jeha with anticipation and a fluttering heart filling my eyes.

And then—

“...Cut!”

It was supposed to be a long take.

‘At this point, according to the storyboard, we kiss lightly and end the scene.’

The unexpected cut made me turn toward the director in confusion.

And then I saw an expression I had never seen on set before.

“Um, actress...”

The director smiled awkwardly.

“Could we try adding a bit more... that ticklish feeling? The excitement of early romance?”

After that came five more unclear cuts in a row. Then, because the top of the ice cream tub prop wasn’t visible enough, it had to be replaced.

Maybe it was because I had been holding the cold container the whole time. The tips of my fingers had gone numb.

“Let’s try putting just a bit more emotion into it! The chemistry you have visually is so good.”

The director gave directions that I couldn’t quite grasp.

“It doesn’t feel like they really like each other that much!”

* * *

Myeong Jeha looked at Han Yeoreum sitting beside him. She wasn’t showing it outright, but it was obvious she had shrunk back.

The shoot kept getting delayed. The atmosphere grew subtly sluggish. A dull air filled the set.

After the repeated NGs, the director decided to at least finish one take all the way through.

But even after a light kiss, nothing changed. They still couldn’t produce a perfect scene.

“Shall we monitor it one more time?”

“Yes! How can I make it feel more natural? I’m sorry... I think I got nervous since it’s my first music video shoot.”

“No, no, not at all. Don’t think like that—just relax! You two go [N O V E L I G H T] to the same school, right? So imagine this—if neither of you had debuted yet. Like... that kind of something. If it were real. You know the feeling, right?”

“Yes...!”

Han Yeoreum nodded as if she understood while watching the monitor.

But even if others couldn’t tell—

Myeong Jeha could.

‘A lie.’

Han Yeoreum had hit a wall.

She didn’t seem to realize it yet, but if things continued like this, she would soon feel it.

That something had gone wrong.

Myeong Jeha, who had already figured out the reason, began calculating something in his head.

“When Jeha approaches, lower your gaze for a moment first, then slowly close your eyes. That’ll make it feel much better!”

Han Yeoreum hurriedly absorbed the director’s instructions, nodding as if there would be no more failures.

Her expression hardened with determination.

“Let’s sit again—yes, good.”

Returning to sit beside Myeong Jeha, she took a deep breath. In a low voice, only loud enough for her to hear, he said:

“Are you deliberately making NGs in this scene? Haha.”

“Don’t....” 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Han Yeoreum lightly punched his shoulder. As if that was exactly what he’d been waiting for, Shim Juhwan clapped from beside the director.

“That just now was great! Do it exactly like that later!”

“Then can I really hit him harder next time?”

Trying to hide her nerves, Han Yeoreum joked back with Shim Juhwan and picked up the ice cream tub again. The cold, heavy container pressed against the back of their hands.

“Ready—!”

This time, the voice carried expectation—that Han Yeoreum would finally get it.

“Action!”

Myeong Jeha acted with practiced ease. It was the kind of performance he had done countless times before.

The sweet scent of ice cream. Their meeting eyes. The way her lashes looked when she lowered her gaze shyly. And himself, watching as if he intended to remember every single detail.

The breath that grew closer. And finally, the destination where their lips met.

“...Okay....”

The director gave a signal as if that was good enough.

“We’ll change angles and shoot again!”

“...Was the front shot okay?”

“Yes, yes. It was good.”

A music video is edited scene by scene rather than relying on a single continuous take. Individual scenes don’t carry as much weight as they do in dramas or films.

‘If this drags on any longer, everything will get pushed back.’

And the director knew it.

If they kept repeating the same scene, the actors’ concentration would drop, tension would rise, and their stamina would drain faster.

‘More importantly, it’s not a crucial scene.’

What mattered was the breakup scene.

Knowing they were parting, yet memorizing each other’s faces before finally turning away.

‘With just Han Yeoreum’s crying acting, a slightly weak dating scene like this can be covered.’

Shim Juhwan knew Han Yeoreum well.

Realizing that her emotions intensified when she was drenched, he had planned a rain scene using a water truck.

That was the core of this music video. The other scenes existed for that one moment.

Moderate sweetness. Convincing loveliness. A gentle nostalgic filter.

Having finished his calculations, the director decided to wrap up the front-facing shots.

Even if the same scene were shot again from the side, in bust shots, and in close-ups, it could be pieced together in editing to raise its overall quality.

“....”

But Han Yeoreum knew.

The director had just compromised.

‘Looks like she hasn’t experienced this before.’

Myeong Jeha smiled faintly.

“Director, while you’re setting up, can we step out for a bit and get some air?”

Now was the right timing.

“Oh—of course. It’ll take a bit to reset anyway!”

“Maybe Yeoreum just hasn’t had her coffee yet. I’ll get some caffeine into her and come back. What does everyone want? I’ll take orders. Haha.”

As Myeong Jeha stood, Han Yeoreum’s gaze followed him.

That familiar look again.

“What are you doing? Come on.”

A look filled with trust—that as long as Myeong Jeha was there, things would work out somehow.

He tilted his head with a small smile.

He intended to properly film the remaining scenes.

“Get in.”

“We’re supposed to go buy drinks...”

“We can order delivery. Hurry.”

I climbed into the back seat of the van he opened for me. It was warm inside, as if the heater had already been turned on.

“...What’s wrong with me right now?”

The satisfied exclamations that usually filled a set—

I couldn’t hear them this time.

I knew instinctively.

‘What am I lacking?’

Memories of sets from before my regression—ones I had barely managed to avoid thinking about—came rushing back.

For a lead actor, maybe mistakes could be tolerated.

But for an extra, an NG was fatal.

The director would shout. The assistant director would sigh. The other actors’ gazes would turn sharp.

Only someone who had experienced it would know how suffocating that pressure was. The feeling of the entire set’s atmosphere lifting and turning unstable.

‘I hated that so much... I worked so hard to never mess up a single line.’

There was nothing wrong with my lines. My movements were exactly the same as in rehearsal.

‘Then why?’

What exactly was the problem?

It was my first time shooting a music video, but I had studied countless references before coming here.

From the day I received the storyboard, I watched everything—similar songs, completely different ones—

Every popular music video from the past few years.

The flutter of first love. The nervousness. The tension born from just the right distance.

“I thought I interpreted all of it perfectly.”

Because acting starts with understanding.

‘So where did it go wrong?’

I lifted my head. My neck ached from the tension.

“Then what am I missing?”

When I turned to the side, I saw Myeong Jeha leaning comfortably back in his seat.

It felt oddly unfamiliar seeing him dressed so casually like this. Because of the “at-home” concept, even his hair was styled more loosely.

Without looking at me, he scrolled through his phone, probably picking drinks. His reply was casual.

“Who knows...”

At his answer—clearly meaning he would wait until I figured it out myself—I grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

“This isn’t the time for that! We’re in the middle of filming!”

“Are we?”

“There’s no time! Seriously, just this once. Aren’t you flustered at all?”

At my words, Myeong Jeha nodded.

“No. I’m not.”

“....”

“I expected this, to some extent.”

“...What?”

This time, I was the one caught off guard.

“You expected it?”