I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

“Boksun?”

A familiar voice came from far away. It sounded like it was getting closer and closer.

“Boksun!”

Yeondu didn’t even have to think before calling that name. She kept shouting it.

“Woof! Woof woof!”

Boksun was looking down at Yeondu from above. She was panting hard, wagging her tail gently as if she were unbelievably happy to see her.

That was when it happened.

The flashlight lying on the ground suddenly lit up brightly, as if by a miracle. Light spread through the pit that had been nothing but darkness.

“Village head—! Are you in there?”

“That dog’s really something....”

Then, one after another, human voices followed. A lump rose in Yeondu’s throat as she tried to hold back her tears, clenching her jaw. But she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Only then did Yeondu finally cry out loud.

“I— sniff— I’m not the village head...! I said I won’t do it...! Waaah...!!!”

To Jung Yeondu, who had wanted no one to care about her and who had wanted to care about no one,

“Oh dear. Looks like my brother misspoke and made her cry.”

“We didn’t know she hated being called village head that much....”

At last, there were people who would comfort her when she cried.

“Huuuh... I’m not the village head...! Why do you keep calling me that every time...!”

An umbrella was placed over Yeondu’s head as she cried like a child. The grandmothers flustered around her, busy trying to soothe her.

Amid the bustle, the voices of the firefighters mixed in. The flashlight beams that had come to find Yeondu sparkled like starlight.

“Are you the missing person? Are you safe?”

The screen slowly faded to black again.

“What is your relationship to the missing person?”

As it faded out, the volume of the conversation gradually lowered as well. But everyone, including Aetami, could still hear it.

“Eh. She’s our granddaughter.”

“Ah, why are they making me cry like this... you cowards...TT_TT”

“I’ve felt this since last time, but Pi Chaewon absolutely wraps clichés perfectly, holy shit, this isn’t easy to pull off T_T”

“︎˪ fr she’s the woman who suits clichés better than anyone”

“This is ...TT__TT”

Tears had already started to fall from Aetami’s eyes. The emotion she had felt when watching the final episode of surged back all at once. Her chest felt unbearably full.

“Yeondu....”

It was the second name.

Following Pi Chaewon, Han Yeoreum had become the character itself.

* * *

had five minutes left until the end. The office worker had just gotten off the bus and was walking up the hill. Even the muggy heat of the summer night didn’t feel unpleasant.

Tap— tap—.

On the screen, Yeondu was typing, as always. The narration flowed.

“For a long time, I wanted to run away. Countless responsibilities I had to drag along like shackles tormented me.”

To remain alone forever, stagnating in a place where no one had a-ny interest in anyone else. That was the only thing I wished for.

Yeondu saved the manuscript that was open on her laptop.

[The Baby Who Returned to Farming Bakes Macarons]

[Do you want to save?]

After pressing the save button and opening the next window, a sales graph that looked ready to pierce the ceiling appeared on Yeondu’s screen again. A comment window popped up beside it.

[Author, I watch this every day on my way home from work and get healed...T_T seriously the best]

[It reminds me of my grandma too T_T it really makes me want to move to the countryside...]

At a glance, it looked like the same daily life as before, but it was clearly different now. As Yeondu stretched her stiff neck and picked up a cup of coffee—

“Whine!”

“Okay, okay. Five minutes have passed.”

Boksun was there. After pouring food for Boksun, who was whining while holding her bowl in her mouth, Yeondu stepped into the living room. The narration gently filled the scene.

“But now I know. What I wanted to avoid wasn’t just those things. Maybe I wanted to run away from the fact that I had no reason to exist for anyone at all.”

Familiar with the routine, Yeondu turned on the microphone placed in front of the TV and cleared her throat.

“Ahem. Attention, everyone in the village.”

Yeondu’s voice boomed loudly through the speakers installed all around Danbok-ri. The grandmothers working in the fields listened with warm smiles.

“Today at 5:30. Just like I announced last time, there’ll be a one-day macaron class at the village hall. Since we’re eating macarons, don’t bring fruit from home. And the village head stayed up all night and is going to catch a bit of sleep now, so take care of your own lunch.”

At Yeondu’s announcement, the grandmothers burst into laughter.

“I’ve been waiting for today! Every day you say ‘macaron, macaron,’ so I had to know what it even tastes like! They don’t even sell it at the bakery in town!”

“The persimmons at my place are good... The village head would like them too if she ate them. But would I get scolded if I brought them anyway?”

“Novel or whatever, you’ve got to take care of your body first. What kind of person stays up all night like that every day.”

With that, Yeondu ended the broadcast. On the living room wall hung a photo of Yeondu and the grandmothers.

[Congratulations! Danbok-ri’s New Village Head]

In the end, Yeondu became the village head of Danbok-ri. The warm sunlight of Hyangdo County rippled through the curtains. Boksun, having finished her meal, rubbed herself against Yeondu’s feet and panted happily.

As the beautiful scenery of Hyangdo County slowly drifted away, Yeondu’s narration flowed.

“The process of us becoming ‘we.’ In the place where you and I are tied together, I finally—”

With a soft scratching sound, the title appeared once more.

And a red underline was drawn beneath the ‘less’ part. Like a typo indicator in a word processor. A blinking cursor settled beside it.

Then, with the sound of typing, the letters were erased, and a new title appeared.

Warm harmonica music played as the names of the actors and staff appeared quietly in the credits. At last, the 60-minute one-act drama came to an end.

That was when the office worker stopped walking. It was the convenience store she always stopped by.

Ding-.

Stepping inside, the office worker stared blankly at the four cans of beer she habitually bought for ten thousand won. For some reason, tonight felt like a day she didn’t need to drink.

“Do you need a bag?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Just like Yeondu had in , the office worker bought a can ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) of sikhye and headed home. Tonight, she wanted to spend the evening without beer. As she fiddled with her phone, she eventually pressed down firmly on the name labeled Grandma.

“Oh, Grandma—. Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

She wanted to live a little better tomorrow. For no particular reason, that feeling came over her.

* * *

This was a samgyeopsal restaurant near the MBS Drama Department. So Yesol and all the staff watched the screen with satisfied smiles.

Since it was just a one-episode drama, there wasn’t much to call a wrap party. It was a small gathering, but the atmosphere was as good as any drama’s.

“Wow—!!!”

“Everyone, great work!!!” 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Thunderous applause rang out from all around the tables. Dok Gogyeol and Dok Gomin, who had ended up coming to the wrap party together, clapped as well. It was a flawless single episode.

“Everyone... thank you so much. Our , which we all worked together to create.... It was perfect, wasn’t it? Especially our Hyangdo County grandmothers~.”

Director So stood up, holding a soda bottle with a spoon stuck in it as a makeshift microphone. Everyone was pleasantly drunk. The actresses who had played the village grandmothers laughed boisterously.

“Oh, we didn’t really do anything! The director did it, this, this!”

“That’s right, that’s right~. The director and our daughter did everything~.”

In the middle of it all, they pulled Yeoreum—who had been casually drinking makgeolli—into a tight hug. Despite the short filming period, they seemed deeply attached. Yeoreum leaned against the grandmothers’ shoulders, acting cute.

“Now, Yeoreum... say a few words.”

When Director So held out the soda bottle, Yeoreum accepted it with a smile. Insane cheers erupted from the sound team.

“Jung! Yeon! Du!”

“Jung! Yeon! Du!”

At the reaction, Yeoreum raised her hand higher, urging them on. The samgyeopsal restaurant filled with people calling out Jung Yeondu’s name.

“It was a short shoot, but thanks to the director and all the staff taking such good care of me... I ended up wanting to live as Jung Yeondu for a little longer.”

Just a stopgap project, a light challenge by the broadcasting station that wasn’t overly concerned with ratings. had been called that too.

Everyone there knew it.

“I guarantee that the viewers will feel the same emotions we all felt while filming ! Everyone, stay healthy. And someday, I really want us to make another great project together!”

Still, it was good. At the very least, there was nothing to criticize about this work.

Despite the low budget, the absurdly tight schedule, a debut director and a twenty-year-old rookie actress, and an underdeveloped OST, the level of completion was incredibly high.

“Yeondu—! Let’s get a song going—!”

That was why they could all laugh together. Leaving Yeoreum singing into the soda microphone behind, Dok Gomin looked at Director So.

“Dok Gomin, do you want to say something too...?”

“No.”

Dok Gomin showed her phone screen to Director So, who was eating lettuce.

“See? The number of likes.”

A different photo of Yeoreum she had just uploaded—a still cut—had gathered thousands of likes in less than ten minutes.

“Still, this is my win for now.... Anyone can tell she’s my muse.”

“Mhm~. I’m starting a Do Gyeoul project soon.”

Dok Gomin raised her eyes sharply at Director So.

“Oh, Do Gyeoul’s starting a new drama, right... What is it, a photoshoot?”

“You don’t need to know that much. Anyway, you’re going to regret what you said to me last time.”

For the first time, Dok Gomin felt, deep in her bones, the meaning of a project that wasn’t one she wanted to do, but one she had to do.

Han Yeoreum would rise far higher at a speed that couldn’t even be compared to now. When that happened, more people would come looking for her, and there was a growing fear that Dok Gomin’s turn might never come.

“I’m never going to ride on Yeoreum’s coattails. Mhm. I’m a genius, you know. I’ll be the one to show Yeoreum to the world. Not you, Director So.”

Director So gave a small snort, as if amused.

“Sure. Let’s see you work hard.... I don’t know if you’ll be able to compare to me in terms of mass appeal, though....”

He struck back quietly, without losing.

Dok Gomin pointed at Director So again and shouted, making the dinner even louder. By tomorrow, the ratings would be out, and everyone would be able to end things with a reasonable sense of satisfaction.

But the next day.

“...What did you just say...?”

Just a stopgap project, a light challenge by the broadcasting station that wasn’t overly concerned with ratings.

“The ratings....”

Despite the low budget, the absurdly tight schedule, a debut director and a twenty-year-old rookie actress, and an underdeveloped OST—

“3.7?”

It was a crazy success.