I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

* * *

The underground parking garage of the department store where the seasonal event would be held.

Inside the van, while waiting ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ for her turn to enter, Eun Baekhap steadied her breathing when her coordinator cautiously spoke up.

“Unniii... come on... at least eat a bananaaa....”

“Not eating.”

“Unni, you haven’t had a proper meal in daysss... what if you collapse while walking in...”

“I’m not collapsing over something this pathetic. Get rid of it.”

Eun Baekhap shoved the sweet-smelling banana into the coordinator’s mouth instead. Her eyes gleamed fiercely.

If she wanted to properly pull off the role from the script she had chosen in such a hurry, she needed to lose another 3 kilograms here and now.

‘Honestly, I feel so fucking awful it wouldn’t go down anyway.’

How much effort had she poured into this next project?

Despite the agency’s fierce opposition, she stubbornly insisted on taking the role no matter what.

Every time she turned another page, every time she rolled the lines around in her mouth, her heart trembled. After reaching a career high with 〈The Great Garland〉, she had believed there was no better project for transforming her image.

Eun Baekhap might fail commercially every single time, but at least she could always stand proud when it came to artistic quality.

That was exactly why she had picked this script with such confidence. She thought this would finally be her chance to solidify her position again.

‘But that fucking....’

Just as Eun Baekhap recalled Do Gyeoul’s face once more, she spotted someone through the tinted car window.

Someone getting out of a car.

“Hey, don’t follow me for a second.”

“Unni?”

It was Do Gyeoul.

Without even having time to think, Eun Baekhap instinctively got out of the van and walked over. Sensing someone approaching, Do Gyeoul turned her head toward Eun Baekhap.

Then, as though nothing had happened at all, she politely lowered her head in greeting.

“Hey.”

Eun Baekhap stepped close and whispered quietly.

“You fucking bitch. You dared steal my project?”

Her lower lip trembled violently with rage.

“Didn’t the director tell you? That role was supposed to be Eun Baekhap’s.”

Wearing a bright pure-white dress, Do Gyeoul slowly narrowed her smiling eyes.

“Hello.”

“Does this look like a situation where anyone’s saying hello? Answer the damn question.”

“But your wording’s pretty harsh. This industry’s not exactly new to either of us. Since when is there such a thing as your project or my project?”

Do Gyeoul whispered back in the same quiet tone.

“If there’s someone better, then naturally it goes to them.”

Someone better.

That phrase sent a pulse of fury through the back of Eun Baekhap’s skull.

Ever since the day she first received the script, Eun Baekhap had been certain of one thing.

There was nobody more suited for that role than her.

“You fucking bitch, after personally crawling over there and throwing a tantrum begging for the role, now you’re calling it ‘natural’? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Ahaha... so you heard.”

The classic face adored by the public tilted slightly sideways.

“But why are you throwing a fit at me?”

Then, with a smile lingering in her voice, she continued.

“In the end, everyone decided I was the better option... so why don’t you go around one by one and try stealing it back yourself? This is honestly kind of funny. Seeing how nobody’s even signed the contracts yet, I guess everyone was really nervous....”

As Do Gyeoul whispered calmly, the manager from the driver’s seat of her van stepped out. At the same time, Do Gyeoul delivered the killing blow.

“Your filmography’s been pretty disastrous for a while now, hasn’t it, sunbae?”

“You little fucking—”

“What exactly are you doing right now?”

Do Gyeoul’s manager hurried over, face turning pale at Eun Baekhap’s sudden outburst of profanity. He grabbed the hand that had been about to shove Do Gyeoul’s shoulder and shouted,

“Hey! Please take her away!”

“We’re sorry! We’re so sorry!”

“What the fuck are YOU apologizing for?!”

Do Gyeoul’s coordinator and manager frantically pulled the two apart. Causing a bigger scene here would be a disaster.

“I’ll see if you can still say that later.”

While being dragged away, Eun Baekhap glared at Do Gyeoul with blazing eyes.

“I’m gonna rip that fucking mouth of yours apart. You bitch.”

Do Gyeoul responded with her usual model smile.

“Ahaha. Fighting.”

* * *

Smiling brightly at the cameras as though nothing had happened, Do Gyeoul was bored.

So bored she felt like yawning.

‘It wasn’t like this on set.’

She missed the pounding excitement she had felt at the filming site for 〈Seoul Metropolitan City〉.

Do Gyeoul had practically lived there just to watch every single one of Han Yeoreum’s scenes, despite Yeoreum barely having any screentime.

‘Where exactly does “just” begin and end?’

She wanted to ask.

What exactly did it mean for acting to “just happen”?

No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t understand.

It kept irritating her like a thorn lodged inside her mouth.

Just.

A short syllable that answered absolutely nothing.

That single word drove Do Gyeoul insane.

She had worked herself mad.

Studied until she bled.

The simultaneous timeslot drama lineup everyone pitied Han Yeoreum for, along with the shackle called Seo Eden—

Compared to the handicap Do Gyeoul carried, those things were nothing.

It wasn’t merely an issue of empathy or emotional understanding.

Understanding and visualization.

She realized at a very young age that she was incapable of both.

For an actor, it was fatal.

Whenever she closed her eyes, no images appeared in her mind.

If someone told her to imagine a red apple, she could only think of the letters.

She couldn’t visualize anything.

A red apple.

An unripe green apple.

An apple sitting on a table.

An apple hanging from a tree.

She couldn’t picture any of them.

Behind her closed eyelids there was only darkness.

So she struggled desperately.

She memorized every image and every video in painstaking detail.

She trained her hearing and sharpened her senses.

All so she could vaguely reconstruct something she had once seen somewhere.

Then she read countless scripts and books, tracing through the thoughts and emotional changes of characters, trying to infer how ordinary people empathized and felt.

She didn’t want to become a flawed stone sticking out.

She didn’t want to become a person with visible weaknesses.

And yet it always felt as though a wall stood before her eyes.

Even now, the roles on the other side of that wall remained unreachable.

No matter how perfectly she memorized the lines, no matter how flawlessly she arranged her expressions, there was always a limit to her acting.

‘But you... you just....’

No matter how many times she replayed it in her head, Han Yeoreum’s talent made no sense.

Do Gyeoul wanted to feel that sensation too.

The moment of perfectly analyzing a character.

The moment of breathing new life into them.

After stepping away from the glittering photo line, Do Gyeoul smiled.

She didn’t know why she had never considered it before.

That maybe she, too, possessed a role where acting would “just” happen naturally.

The moment she flipped open the script she had stolen from Eun Baekhap, certainty struck her instantly.

A career high.

She would absolutely achieve it with this project.

And when that happened, maybe she would finally understand what Han Yeoreum meant.

For the first time ever—

Without effort.

Without struggle.

That there existed an acting role which would “just” come naturally to her too.

A status window glowed above Do Gyeoul’s head.

Analysis: C

Delivery: C+

* * *

“Hellooo....”

Waiting for me at the MBS Drama Center was Director Byeon Juhwa, whose dark circles practically reached his jawline.

“Hello, Director.”

“Come in....”

With dry, cracked lips, Byeon Juhwa muttered,

“Run away.”

“Huh?”

“Yeoreum-ah! You’re here!”

From far away, Director Lee Saerok came hurrying over.

But his dark circles were just as horrifying.

“Why did you come downstairs?! Seriously!”

“Because you weren’t coming! You weren’t coming!”

“What do you mean I wasn’t coming... stop lying... you just came down here to rest....”

The two suspiciously whispered between themselves before dragging me toward the first-floor café.

“Cake from here to here. And whipped cream...”

“You clearly don’t know what you’re doing. If the whipped cream melts it’ll all show. Order the drinks later!”

“I’m so sleepy my brain stopped functioning, hey.”

The two shoved a vibrating pager into my hand.

“We got delayed because there were too many people, okay, Yeoreum-ah...?”

“Ms. Yeoreum, let us sleep for thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes....”

Then they immediately slammed their heads onto the table and fell asleep.

It looked more like instant death than sleep.

The cake box I retrieved after the pager buzzed was enormous.

They had apparently bought every dessert in the display case.

‘What exactly is happening here?’

My question was answered shortly afterward in the meeting room.

The room was complete chaos.

The table was covered in stacks of paper, while photos taken by staff members scouting locations had been taped all over the place.

Dongdaemun Market.

Nearby trendy cafés.

The DDP building.

The exterior and interior of the B-bly office that would serve as the model for Nam Pyeonghwa and Jeon Segye’s company.

Department stores.

Even amidst this disaster zone, Writer Hwang maintained perfectly upright posture.

I greeted him politely.

“Hello, Writer! It’s Han Yeoreum.”

“Mm, Yeoreum. We meet again. Come in.”

And there was one more familiar face present.

“Long time no seeee....”

“Ms. Yeoreum... run awayyy....”

“It’s already too lateee....”

It was the staff from along with Director Gam Dajeong.

I greeted them happily.

That’s right.

Our 〈Dongdaemun Romance〉 team had decided to exploit the Hwang Boseok card to the absolute limit.

Specifically: appearing on .

The private life of a top writer like Hwang Boseok was rarely shown publicly, yet there was always huge demand for it. So 〈Dongdaemun Romance〉 decided to pour in every possible form of promotion.

It apparently wasn’t enough for Seo Eden and me to make rounds through Intube appearances, variety shows, pictorial shoots, and interviews, so they decided to use Hwang Boseok himself as the hidden trump card.

“But where’s the head writer? Didn’t they come today?”

At my question, Gam Dajeong answered with a hollow face.

“She collapsed earlier and went to get IV fluids....”

Collapsed?

Wait, wasn’t the team famous for being full of complete maniacs?

My confusion was quickly answered.

“We literally couldn’t leave this building for an entire weekkk....”

What?

A whole week?

What the hell had they been doing?

“Heh heh... looks like you slacked off before coming here?”

“Of course not, Writer. We’d never dare.”

“There really were too many people at the café.”

Director Byeon and Director Lee Saerok awkwardly lied while trembling before Hwang Boseok.

The writer stared warmly at them while silently pressuring them to death, then smiled after spotting me behind them.

Hwang Boseok personally pulled out a chair for me.

Director Lee Saerok and Director Byeon set down cakes and drinks.

“Now then, pick one.”

“Thank you. Then I’ll take the chocolate—”

Wait.

Why did it smell overwhelmingly sweet in here?

The answer came quickly.

After pulling out one slice of cake for me, Writer Hwang immediately started devouring the rest at terrifying speed.

Not eating.

Devouring.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up....”

“Me too....”

Director Lee Saerok and Director Byeon covered their noses and mouths like they were dying just from watching.

“You need sugar for your brain to work, eh.”

While stuffing cake into his mouth, Hwang Boseok handed me a thick stack of papers.

“Here. First, take the revised script.”

“Already?”

Scripts circulating in the market were usually only up to episode four.

Once contracts were finalized, episodes six through eight would be polished and somehow completed before filming began.

Then, after broadcast started, episodes nine through sixteen would be written alongside airing.

“You said you wanted the scenes split up, right? So I moved the transformation up to episode three. Gotta use the joker card fast while we still can. Kehahaha.”

The request Team Leader Ryu had passed along to Director Byeon during the styling meeting had been accepted immediately.

But Hwang Boseok hadn’t just split scenes.

Now that I looked around, scripts from the competing projects were lying around too. It seemed Hwang Boseok had already revised things after reading episodes one and two from Woo Seungri’s script.

Scripts circulating around the industry was completely normal.

The staff and actors all needed easy access to them for teams to be assembled smoothly.

“In their version, Jiuk gets revealed as the brother in episode two. So if we adjust ours around that, then if we transform during their episode one, their episode two buzz will weaken, right?”

Hwang Boseok weaponized that fact against them.

“They won’t expect us to start revising from episode one, so we’ll just hit them with surprise attacks immediately. Kehahaha.”

A true master really was different.

Hwang Boseok had delivered a brutal checkmate.

‘While the other side naturally prepares for the next episode... he’s got the nerve to revise starting from episode one....’

I checked the revised script in my hands.

Hwang Boseok really was a professional.

Every sluggish section from episodes one and two had been ruthlessly cut away.

‘This definitely used to be a separate scene....’

Any scene that slowed down the pacing was now reduced to text messages or supporting-character dialogue.

Since 〈Dongdaemun Romance〉 had the trendiest material among the competing dramas, it looked like he intended to maximize editing and pacing as much as possible.

The thing Myeong Jeha said.

A project is a living creature.

‘...I think I understand now.’

Under Hwang Boseok’s fingertips, Nam Pyeonghwa and Jeon Segye transformed in real time as though they were genuinely alive.

The density of the script had become dramatically tighter than before.