I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

Only after bowing my head in greeting and returning to my seat did the tears finally fall. Clutching the trophy tightly in my hand, I went back to Director So.

“Director.... Look, look—my name is engraved here....”

“Yeah. You did ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) well. Hey, really.... Don’t cry.”

Director So patted my shoulder, and the camera captured the moment. From the MC’s desk, Yun Hyeonjo joked lightly.

“Yes. Giving the acceptance speech calmly, and then crying afterward. Very efficient. You almost ended up unable to speak properly because you were crying.”

Laughter filled the hall. My face appeared on the screen. Even though I hurriedly wiped my tears, they kept coming.

My first acting award ever. The trophy sparkled brightly under the lights.

* * *

“I knew it! I knew you’d do well! Ah—so adorable!”

This was the marketing office of JC ENM’s new Cheongdam headquarters. Watching the live broadcast in real time, Manager Ma clapped enthusiastically. The foundation of the branding had been laid long ago; now all that remained was for Han Yeoreum to grow according to Manager Ma’s plan.

“How can it be so—huh? Just! Perfectly! On point!”

She had advanced all the way to the main judging round of the Seoul Drama Awards. A rookie director and two rookie actors together. That alone was more than enough to build a narrative. It fit perfectly with the keyword of “talent.”

“Oh, Manager Hong. It’s me. Let’s try comparing her with Do Gyeoul. Why? No, no. This isn’t the time to be nitpicky about that. Sure, Do Gyeoul’s fans might feel a bit prickly. But so what? This industry’s always been like that.”

Manager Ma immediately contacted the PR team. Even as she spoke, her eyes darted rapidly as she skimmed through articles.

“Special Jury Award, with Sunwoo Seonuk included—and Do Gyeoul, who got slammed by critics. How fun is that. We need to frame this first and draw the picture ourselves. If others start messing around first, it’ll just turn more provocative. Huh? A nice, measured ‘friendly rivalry.’ How great is that. Fresh green sprouts cheering each other on.”

Quick-footed reporters were already writing articles left and right with Han Yeoreum’s name in them. Perfectly moderate, perfectly inoffensive pieces.

[Seoul Drama Awards Han Yeoreum.... A dazzling leap by a rising actor]

[In the end, heartfelt messages always resonate.... Seoul Drama Awards MBS wins two awards]

[So Yesol’s moving acceptance speech, “For the countless Yeondus,” brings tears to eyes.... (On-site photos)]

But what Manager Ma wanted was something else. A key that would let Han Yeoreum leap forward faster. That was what she needed.

“We’ve got to grow her fast so the next round gets even more fun!”

* * *

“Heh. What a real nutjob.”

“What did he say?”

“He says we should trust him once.”

Articles and press releases were, after all, the PR team’s jurisdiction. But even so, they couldn’t simply ignore the opinion of JC ENM’s other Jegal Rok—commonly known as “that lunatic.” Provocative, but effective.

“What are you going to do?”

“Let’s wait and see, punk.”

As JC ENM intended, the articles were already out. Han Yeoreum’s award, how prestigious the Seoul Drama Awards were, how dazzling the hard work of a rookie director and rookie actor filming on a low budget had been, and how netizens were reacting to Han Yeoreum’s acceptance speech.

Model answers, neatly placed into the public’s hands.

“Honestly, ever since last time, reporters have been trying to subtly pit her against Do Gyeoul anyway. I don’t think Manager Ma’s idea is bad.”

“Right. People reading articles will enjoy it if you toss them something fun. We can set the backbone with Sunwoo Seonuk being part of this awards show, go with ‘the Han Yeoreum acknowledged by Sunwoo Seonuk,’ and then dredge up Sunwoo Seonuk’s past critique of Do Gyeoul from the community.”

“Then people will get the picture. Do Gyeoul has a script reading tomorrow—this would be perfect timing to throw a wrench in beforehand.”

After listening to the flood of opinions from all sides, Manager Hong thought for a moment, then—

“No. Full stop.”

He shook his head.

“Huh? Why? This is really the perfect timing, Manager.”

The new hire Shin, who had been typing nonstop, voiced his confusion. Manager Hong responded with his usual half-serious smile.

“Same DaeYeJong classmates—bundling them together that far is fine. Academic ties, blood ties, regional ties, those are always go-to topics. But you don’t compare them when they haven’t even properly faced off.”

Do Gyeoul hadn’t been nominated at this year’s Seoul Drama Awards. She had taken a break from projects for college admissions.

“Let’s at least put them on the same stage before we make them fight. Yeah?”

In the end, JC ENM’s PR team did not follow Manager Ma’s opinion.

Later, Manager Hong said that Manager Ma believed you had to show there was no comparable actress in order to brand Han Yeoreum as the perfect top of her generation. In contrast, Manager Hong replied that the public would feel it soon enough on their own.

“Anyone would think you’re the one doing the branding, Manager Hong?”

“And anyone would think Manager Ma’s the one handling PR, right?”

Manager Ma insisted that branding was something the company did—and PR as well. Manager Hong’s counterargument, that while branding might be the company’s job, the best promotion ultimately came from the public, remained in conflict for quite some time.

“Come on, it’s not like this is your first or second PR job. Every time we launched a new show, how was it? Manager Hong, you were practically blasting away with shotguns in both hands. Terrestrial networks losing to cable. How many shows did we send off like that. We both know how this works.”

“I know, I know. Until now, that’s been the foundation of our show business.”

“Then why!”

“No, Manager Ma. Have we ever raised an in-house celebrity like this from the very beginning?”

Manager Ma fell silent. Manager Hong was right. JC ENM had created group projects with celebrities who already had agencies, but they had never taken someone in from the chick stage and raised them.

“I want to make this one properly. Something that makes people go ‘wow,’ no matter who sees it. I want to create JC’s signboard, not be satisfied with some mass-produced flyer. A star raised by JC. Doesn’t that sound great? Let’s take it step by step.”

A star raised by JC.

At those words, Manager Ma hesitated. In the end, their opinions aligned. The destination was the same; only the path differed.

“And who knows? Maybe we won’t even need to brand and promote her that way. Maybe, later on, we won’t have anything to do at all.”

“Does that even make sense? What runs in the entertainment industry without marketing and PR?”

“True stars shine even without spotlights.”

“Honestly, you really know how to talk....”

In the end, Manager Ma was the one to raise the white flag.

“...But if she really ends up on the same stage as Do Gyeoul, then you have to agree with me no matter what, okay?”

“Even if you tell me not to, that’s when it’ll happen. We’ll raise her up, then have them fight over Best Supporting Actress, Best Actress, Grand Prize—stuff like that!”

Although JC ENM issued no direct instructions, a few reporters known for writing provocative pieces went ahead and wrote exactly what Manager Ma had wanted. Placing Do Gyeoul’s and Han Yeoreum’s names side by side.

Cheap, third-rate tabloid articles—interesting to some, eye-sore to others—cluttered the view.

“....”

Gyeoul read the article. And then read it again.

“Gyeoul, did you not sleep? Your eyes are bloodshot. I told you to go to bed early.”

The next morning, Do Gyeoul’s manager, who had come to escort her to the script reading, was flustered by her haggard appearance. It was the first time she had ever seen Do Gyeoul, who was always meticulous about managing her condition, like this.

“...I couldn’t sleep.”

“My goodness, what happened? Huh? Tell me, just me. Let’s talk on the way to the salon.”

Gyeoul gazed out the window. A pleasantly cool autumn was approaching. Through the rearview mirror, the manager watched her.

“Gyeoul. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Gyeoul opened the window, let the wind hit her face, and spoke.

“Because I want to be acknowledged.”

“For one script reading? You, Do Gyeoul?”

The manager laughed, as if it were amusing. Do Gyeoul never missed script readings, no matter how big or small the project. A veteran among veterans—her losing sleep because she wanted recognition sounded absurd.

“Is it because it’s your first romance? Is it overwhelming because it’s your first project since becoming an adult?”

Gyeoul knew exactly how to answer in moments like this.

She had to hide what was inside, cover it up, lock it away tight, and never show it to anyone.

Just as Domunjeong had taught her.

“...I guess so.”

I want to be acknowledged instead of Han Yeoreum. Even if I have to steal everything that belongs to Han Yeoreum, I want to be acknowledged. Han Yeoreum disappearing, and me standing in her place, like Han Yeoreum. More than Han Yeoreum.

“I want to be acknowledged.”