I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

* * *

On the sofa nearest the window, Ji Haebeom lounged comfortably while idly turning a clear glass of water in his hand. Deep shadows and highlights stretched across his face beneath the backlight.

“I’m bored, hyung.”

Yun Hyeonjo looked at the junior who kept coming over to other people’s houses and making a nuisance of himself. Haebeom wiggled a foot clad in gray slippers, as if demanding an immediate answer.

“Then go out and work~.”

“I’m bored because there’s nothing worth doing.”

At Ji Haebeom’s shameless reply, Yun Hyeonjo pushed up his glasses with a finger. It would not have been an exaggeration to say that every script in Chungmuro was written with Ji Haebeom in mind.

“Don’t say that where anyone can hear you. You’ll get stoned.”

“You’ll be the first one throwing.”

“Yep. Front-row seat~.”

Haebeom laughed as Yun Hyeonjo mimed hurling a rock.

“All I keep hearing is that you’re making a movie. What are you actually doing these days?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“For this and that?”

“You keep resting like this and the younger kids are going to overtake you. You heard the news about Jeha.”

“Ah, my child actor.”

Muttering quietly, Ji Haebeom sank deeper into the sofa.

“Still feels a little early for me to get buried.”

Unlike his claim of being bored, the leisurely aura unique to Ji Haebeom never made him seem like a boring person. He always looked as though he were contemplating something, calm and unhurried no matter the situation.

Slowly tracing a bead of water running down the surface of the glass with a long finger, he spoke.

“Oh, and I heard there’s a fan meeting.”

Even without a subject attached to the sentence, Yun Hyeonjo knew exactly who Haebeom was referring to.

“Why didn’t she invite me?”

“Would you even go if she did?”

“Yep. I’ve already saddled her with two debts. Wouldn’t hurt to add another.”

“No different from a predatory senior~.”

As casually as commenting on the weather, Yun Hyeonjo added,

“I heard she cried when she found out Jeha was going to Hollywood.”

“She cried?”

“Learn even a quarter of that passion.”

A faint smile brushed the corner of Haebeom’s lips.

His attitude remained calm.

“Are those two dating?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Not yet.”

“Mmm. Not yet.... Good.”

As if reviewing Yun Hyeonjo’s guess for himself, Haebeom muttered before sounding like an old man.

“They’re still too young to be dating.”

Yun Hyeonjo snorted.

“I heard Baekyeong’s reading scripts these days. If you’re that bored, do something with her. You should use your hiatus efficiently.”

“Ah, Baekyeong.”

When it came to popularity and box-office success, Hong Suryeon stood at the top among the three great actresses.

But Chungmuro was a different story.

When the stage changed, so did the protagonist.

Dong Baekyeong.

The only one of the three who was universally called a film actress.

Consistently appearing on the big screen and steadily producing profitable hits, Dong Baekyeong simply hadn’t encountered the role that would become a true sensation yet. Her acting was already more than good enough.

Most of all, her appearance played a major role.

She looked like someone straight out of Hong Kong cinema during its golden age.

If Hong Suryeon embodied trendy beauty and Eun Baekhap represented ideal beauty, then Dong Baekyeong was classic beauty.

Classic in the truest sense.

No matter how much time passed, she remained in place.

No matter how many eras came and went, she never grew tiresome or faded.

If anything, her elegance lingered endlessly in people’s hearts.

There was something in her eyes that transcended simple beauty.

Something indescribable.

An unfathomable depth.

“Would she win against Baekyeong too?”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?”

Realizing that Haebeom’s subject was still Han Yeoreum, Yun Hyeonjo tilted his head.

The more he thought about it, the more absurd it sounded.

Running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, he recalled Dong Baekyeong’s career.

For reference, Dong Baekyeong had appeared in seventeen films.

Six of them had surpassed five million admissions.

She had won more than ten film awards.

That was only what Yun Hyeonjo knew off the top of his head.

She was effectively the hardest opponent among the three.

Because the wall of Chungmuro was never low.

“You really are a predatory senior. How can you throw her against Baekyeong of all people~?”

Dong Baekyeong had lived the life of a film lead for longer than Han Yeoreum had been acting at all.

“Is that so?”

There was unmistakable anticipation hidden beneath the lazily drawn-out ending of Ji Haebeom’s voice.

“Forget that. Clear your schedule around Lunar New Year.”

“You inviting me to the premiere?”

“Of course. Show up when it opens and let the reporters get a look at you.”

At Yun Hyeonjo’s words, Haebeom replied playfully.

“I’m looking forward to seeing it for the first time in a while.”

* * *

I pulled myself together.

“I refuse to be intimidated.”

Who was I?

Han Yeoreum—the woman who would hold a solo fan meeting over two days, reveal sides of herself fans had never seen before, make everyone discover new charms all over again, ensure that even if rival fan cafés came scouting, not a single person would defect, create fans so loyal they would write Summer Day on their gravestones, flood Intube and social media with videos titled “Hidden Actress’s Idol-Level Dance Lines 😯😯,” “Fans Demand Han Yeoreum Return to King of Mask Singer,” and “Baby Melon Bread Is Extra Cute in Front of Fans,” drown everyone in a flood of fan-meeting content throughout November, then hit another legendary peak during December’s year-end award ceremonies, appear in a completely different version of the dress she wore in 〈Dongdaemun Romance〉, and earn a reputation as a woman whose personal color was award ceremonies themselves.

“Let’s put Hollywood aside for now.”

Forget Myeong Jeha.

Forget the distraction that had filled my mind for days.

I had to focus on my schedule.

“I’m even skipping the reward vacation because of the fan meeting and my next project!”

〈Dongdaemun Romance〉 had become a chaebol drama unlike anything before it.

This time there was no need to pick Director Lee Saerok’s pocket for a reward trip.

Sansung Electronics had paid for everything in spectacular fashion.

At the moment, literally everyone except me—even Beopsun—was in Phuket.

‘They’re really determined, aren’t they....’

Move aside, old man.

No, that sounded disrespectful to my elders.

Anyway, I attended the pre-table-read meeting for 〈Code Name: Time Seven〉.

The location was KBC’s Drama Division in Yeouido.

“Oh! Yeoreum!”

“Hello-.”

“Heading into the meeting?”

“Yes-. Have you eaten lunch?”

“We already did-. Fighting!”

I exchanged small talk with KBC employees.

Back when I first entered the MBS Drama Center, I’d been nervous wondering whether anyone would recognize me.

‘Good. I’ve grown this much.’

Which meant I needed to grow even faster from now on.

Move aside, old man.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for the conference room door—

“AAAAAHHHH!!! YOU’RE FINALLY HERE!!! I THOUGHT I WAS GOING INSANE WAITING FOR YOUUUU!!!”

—but I was one step too late.

The door suddenly flew open.

A deafening roar exploded through the hallway.

What appeared before me was something black—

Looking closer, it was Galdaeguk, dressed head to toe in black biker gear, bouncing up and down without stopping.

“W-Was I really that late?”

“Junior, you arrived thirty minutes early. However, time is relative for everyone....”

“GAAAAH!!! I ARRIVED THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAAAAYYYY!!!”

I stared blankly at Director Galdaeguk, who was flailing all four limbs while hopping in place.

He seemed physically incapable of staying still.

“I COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE AND WAS ABOUT TO COME GET YOUUUU!!! BUT THEN I HEARD BREATHING BEHIND THE DOOOOR!!! YESSSS!!! NOBODY CAN DECEIVE GALDAEGUUUUK!!! WAHAHAHAHAHA!!! COME INSIDE ALREADYYYYY!!!”

“I’d like to, but you’re blocking the doorway.”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF DEFEATING MEEEE AND ENTERING!!! YOUR TRAINING IS STILL LACKINGGGG!!!”

This already felt difficult.

Was the road to Hollywood always this rough and treacherous?

“I honestly don’t understand why Daeguk is acting like that. Maybe he just couldn’t contain himself after reading the script. I wouldn’t know. But apparently it’s incredibly immersive. That’s what everyone who’s read it says.”

A man with short hair sat primly in a chair, appearing and disappearing behind the constantly bouncing Galdaeguk.

‘The infamous lunatic duo.’

Officially they were known as Ja Sokhwan’s kids.

Unofficially everyone called them the Lunatic Duo.

But despite appearances, their talent was terrifying.

Since picking up a megaphone, Galdaeguk had never directed anything that wasn’t a hit.

Ma Eungyo had never written an unsuccessful script.

One of the works they created together had elevated Jin Yi—one of the Three Legends—to the very top.

“Director, please hold still for a moment.”

“WAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO STAY STILL WHEN I FEEL LIKE THISSSS!!!”

“Excuse me for a moment....”

Director Galdaeguk, who had been bouncing nonstop, was subdued instantly with a single movement from Han Yohan.

‘So it’s true he beat Kwak Cheolsik.’

Holding the director firmly by the arm, Han Yohan gave me a look that clearly said Enter.

“YOUUUU!!! YOU’RE NO ORDINARY MANNNN!!! I LIKE YOU EVEN MORE NOWWWWW!!! YESSSS!!! THAT’S HOW MY ACTORS SHOULD BEEEEEEE!!!”

“I’m telling you, he’s still like this even as he gets older. Though I guess I can’t blame him for getting excited after reading my script.... Not that I’d know. Apparently every director who’s worked with me says the same thing. Anyway. Here.”

After finally taking my seat, I accepted the latter half of the script that Ma Eungyo handed over.

“I only brought the ending of the Russia shoot separately. The front and back sections are summarized. Apparently it’s written well enough that you can infer the rest from this alone. Not that I’d know.”

It wasn’t a proper complete script.

Just fragments of scenes.

“Anyway, if you’ve got questions, ask them here. Every second costs money in Russia.”

I casually read through the flashback scenes and cross-cut sequences that would be filmed over twenty days on location.

Then my eyes stopped at one page.

‘Oh....’

I immediately flipped ahead.

Seeing my reaction, Ma Eungyo shrugged as though she had expected it.

“I wouldn’t know, but everyone says the same thing.”

The next words out of her mouth matched exactly what had just crossed my mind.

“As expected of Ja Sokhwan’s kids.”

* * *

“Look at thissss~.”

“Bark bark bark bark!”

“....”

At that very moment, the Director of KBC’s Drama Division—who lacked the courage to face Galdaeguk and Ma Eungyo together—stared dead-eyed at the incoming video call.

“Beopsun is so cute, right? She’s even cuter in person than on screen! If your drama had succeeded, you could’ve come to Phuket on a reward vacation and seen her too. Shame, kid! The weather here is amaaaazing!”

“Bark bark.”

On the screen, Beopsun sat smiling brightly with a flower clipped behind one ear.

He couldn’t even bring himself to swear.

“Oh, coming! Coming! Our set was so warm and friendly. We’re basically family! Hey, can you see the others behind me?”

“Bark.”

“You guys... ha.... Never mind. Then again, you’re probably family too, right? Shared hardship! Shared adversity! Shared suffering! H-Hey, guys, I gotta go! I need to call Sangjun, but everyone keeps calling for me!”

“Bark!”

“Bye~.”

The instant Lee Saerok vanished from the screen, the KBC Drama Director slammed his fist against his desk and unleashed a string of curses.

“Is that lunatic serious?! He even dragged a dog into this?!”

Normally, a drama breaking ten percent ratings was automatically considered successful.

No one would ever call it a flop.

But their opponent had won the Holy Grail War.

“That bastard! Our set wasn’t some goddamn battlefield of suffering and adversity!”

He could never forgive Lee Saerok for describing someone else’s production as though it were a modern-day trial by fire.

The KBC Drama Director looked at the location-shoot script sitting on his desk and smiled.

“Just you wait.... You son of a bitch. I’ll remind you exactly where the final flame of network television truly burns....”

The hidden hothead within him was awakening.

His confidence came from a trustworthy script.

A dependable director.

And the actor who would ignite the spark.

“Though... Yohan. Han Yohan worries me a little.”

And finally—

An actor whose action scenes, at least, were unquestionably reliable.

The starting gun for 〈Code Name: Time Seven〉 was about to fire.