I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing trouble. I won’t ever do it again. I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.”

Rio hurried forward on her knees until she reached Hanamura’s feet. She slammed her forehead into the floor over and over as she begged for forgiveness.

“My, my.”

Hanamura’s voice was deliberately gentle. Bending down, Hanamura carefully lifted Rio’s face.

“You’ll scar that pretty face.”

Like a good father.

“Now, don’t close your eyes—look properly. Today, these people are being put through this because of your reckless behavior.”

Hanamura leisurely unfastened the watch hanging around his wrist. Then he extended his arm and handed it to the nanny who had been waiting.

“Because of that despicable, lying... Joseon scum habit inside you, Rio.”

Looking down at his daughter with a stiff, frozen expression, Hanamura explained at his leisure.

“If you so much as move an inch from where you are, I’ll cut that wench’s wrist.”

The girl who had brought Huijae’s shoes earlier looked about the same age. Tears dripped down her face from terror.

Because of me.

All because of me....

Huijae couldn’t even cry. All she could do was stare blankly up at Hanamura.

A hard palm flew into the cheek of the woman who had spoken to Huijae.

“How dare you! Not knowing your place!”

A fierce palm flew into the cheek of the old man from the Shin family who had given Huijae her name.

“How dare you! Not knowing your station!”

The one who had nodded along because Huijae said she was also Joseon, the one who had said shouldn’t they press in more rice, the one who had told her she was white like a flower—everyone....

“How dare you! You little things—how dare you! Not even knowing your master!”

Joseon people.

To Joseon people.

They were being beaten like dogs....

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry for causing trouble... I won’t ever do it again... I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry....”

Rio kept begging for forgiveness like a broken machine. Inside the living room, the sound of skin being struck and Rio’s delicate voice mixed together in a chaotic jumble.

IP 85.152 covered their mouth with one hand and cried. Huijae’s past life crashed down like a tidal wave. It shattered the viewer’s heart into pieces.

Why she had introduced herself as Joseon scum at her first meeting with Taeseok, why she had been so happy over a single “Enjoy your meal” that would have meant nothing to others, why she had learned Joseon speech that desperately.

They understood everything.

They could feel at once how lonely and frightening Huijae’s life must have been.

Huijae didn’t avoid making eye contact on purpose. She simply couldn’t bring herself to meet anyone’s eyes.

Rio was led into the room by the nanny’s hand.

“I, I’m oka—”

She tried to speak in a trembling voice as she looked at the nanny, whose cheek was swollen red, but Rio’s attempt was blocked before it could continue.

The nanny stepped back half a pace and shook her head.

“The people outside.... If we called a doctor, no, if we paid the treatment costs....”

Rio tried to take care of the Joseon servants outside who had been beaten because of her. But again, it was futile.

“Miss.”

“....”

“Live quietly, as you did before. As the elder wishes.”

Hanamura had isolated Huijae for a very long time.

“That is the only way not to cause trouble for those around you.”

So that no one would speak to Huijae,

so that no one would pay attention to Huijae,

and so that, as a result, no one would love Huijae.

“...Okay.”

“Your master has ordered that your residence be moved after today. If you have any important belongings, gather them by noon.”

Thud-.

A faint resentment clung to the nanny as she closed the sliding door and disappeared. It couldn’t be helped. It was all her fault.

Being hated by someone was something she was already used to. A dull, faint ache made her chest hurt. Huijae looked around the lavish room. The huge, lonely room.

There was nothing to pack. There wasn’t a single thing that was precious to Rio. Rio didn’t even consider herself all that important.

But there was one single thing.

She wanted the Joseon language textbook she had hidden in the drawer so it wouldn’t be discovered. Rio quietly walked over.

Rrk-.

She pulled the handle of the dark-brown wooden dresser drawer. She picked up the Joseon language textbook she had read and reread until it felt worn into her hands. On the very first page, a name was written.

Huijae

Crooked, shaky letters like a fool. Rio traced her name with her fingers, then hugged the textbook tight against her chest. Moments when she hadn’t been lonely—even if only for a little while—carved into Huijae’s heart.

“Omma-ya? You can speak our language too?”

“Does the food not suit your mouth?”

“They say your Joseon name is read like this. Hui-jae-.”

Maybe it was because of the warmth she had felt for the first time. Being alone was something she was used to—no, actually, being alone was what she was most used to.... Huijae’s jaw began to tremble with a cold she couldn’t hold back.

“I’m sorry....”

And then, the apology she had wanted to say so badly from the start—she dared to let it leave her lips.

“...I’m sorry....”

Only then did hot tears begin to drip from Huijae’s eyes. It was a sorrow she had endured and endured.

“Yes. So you can live happily. So you can come here and eat well and stay healthy, make friends all around, and laugh a lot. That’s why they named you that, isn’t it.”

Huijae’s long loneliness poured down her cheeks without stopping.

“...I’m sorry....”

I knew, really. That I shouldn’t talk to people. That because of me, a moment like this might come someday.

“I’m sorry....”

But I was so lonely....

“I’m sorry....”

I did it because I was lonely....

It felt like she could hear Huijae’s heart. Huijae, crying while clutching the textbook to her chest, heard a small clatter from outside and covered her mouth with both hands. The Joseon language textbook rolled onto the floor.

The sound can’t leak outside. If Father hears, he might beat the Joseon people again.

With a face mixed with learned helplessness and fear, Huijae covered her mouth and cried quietly.

“Hhk....”

The small back of a child who had spent her life hiding to cry was caught on the screen.

A Joseon scum of the Hanamura family—someone who had to exist like the dead, unable to even cry out loud. Rio’s crying did not stop for a long time.

Huijae’s desperate scream, unheard, filled the room.

* * *

Taeseok rode his bicycle at the brightest noon, sweating buckets. He kept getting the illusion that he was riding with a girl seated behind him. No matter how heavy a load he carried, it felt light—too light.

“Taeseok, good work—.”

“Yes.”

After handing over the goods, Taeseok took out a handkerchief from his shirt’s front pocket. Then he carefully wiped down the back seat where the goods had been tied only moments ago.

A small wish lingered in the touch—wanting, someday, to carry the girl again.

Pulling the old bicycle along as he went back to work, Taeseok’s gaze paused for a moment on the flowers in the field.

White flowers were blooming brightly. Would she like it if I picked one for her tomorrow? Thinking that, Taeseok looked forward again and pedaled hard.

The wind brushing across the boy’s forehead was unusually sweet.

Huijae, neatly dressed, stepped out of her room empty-handed. In the end, she left the Joseon language textbook behind. If Hanamura discovered even the book, something would happen next that was hard to even imagine.

The house was quiet. She couldn’t even hear the servants breathing. As if no one had been there from the start.

Huijae walked alone through the beautiful garden. One by one, deep-green streetlights slid past behind her shoulders.

“Let’s go.”

Guided by the driver, Huijae stood before a dark car. Seeing her hesitate, the driver shoved her inside without a thought.

He roughly stuffed even the girl’s small feet, wobbling as she lost her balance, into the car. Bang-! The car door slammed shut with an annoyed hand.

Huijae was trapped again.

The girl who had given up on everything didn’t even ask where they were going.

It was obvious she’d be alone again. Anywhere was fine. The car moved forward.

Beyond the window, a world Huijae had never seen unfolded.

As Huijae stared blankly outside, a boy riding a bicycle came into view. Taeseok—full of life, moving forward as if he were pushing upstream through a sea of pure white flowers.

“...I have to tell him....”

With a desperate gaze chasing him, Huijae twisted her neck, keeping the boy in her eyes to the very end. She saw his broad back as he gripped the handlebars tightly.

Because it’s the last time—I have to carve it into my eyes, but the tears kept spreading and blurring everything, making her vision a mess.

“That flower is called a Pear blossom... I have to tell Taeseok....”

That she was truly happy he kept his promise, that when Pear blossoms bloomed next year they should go see them ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) together, that someday there would be fireworks too, and, and....

Clunk.

Because the driver sped up, Taeseok drifted away—farther and farther. Tears pooled in the corners of the girl’s empty eyes. A track of tears settled onto her pale cheek.

The girl swallowed by the automobile and the boy on the bicycle ran toward opposite ends of each other. Farther away, even farther....

* * *

Taeseok looked up at the stacks of boxes piled high. Before he knew it, the days had grown shorter. Across the sea, the sunset glittered as it said its goodbyes.

Wiping sweat with the towel around his neck, Taeseok suddenly thought of the girl.

If I brought her here too... would she like it, like last time?

It was strange. Familiar scenery, familiar time—if you placed the girl inside it, everything changed. The world he’d been sick of felt precious.

He couldn’t understand why this shabby countryside village looked so beautiful.

“Taeseok-. You worked hard.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You got something going on these days? You’re always grinning, every day.”

The supervisor nudged Taeseok’s upper arm playfully with an elbow. At that, a worker passing by shouted.

“Don’t talk nonsense! I’ve never seen that guy smile in my whole life!”

“If you look close—real close—you can see it. This punk smiles like this, like this, all day long.”

Taeseok lowered his head slightly and shook it. Just as the supervisor said, the corners of his mouth were faintly lifted.

That was when—

“Haah, isn’t he a crazy bastard....”

“We should’ve killed that Japanese lackey the moment he came into Jinhae.”

Somewhere, they were talking about Hanamura. Taeseok immediately turned his head toward the source of the voices.

“No matter what, to his own daughter. Even a dog like that is rare.”

“His daughter?”

Taeseok asked as he strode closer. Raising his voice in a way that didn’t fit his normally taciturn self, he made the workers flinch.

Ahead, a massive pier appeared before the wide sea. A place where ships came in and out without rest.

Woooo-.

A heavy ship’s horn echoed.

With the sunset completely melted and spilled into the sea-road, the boy ran like he’d lost his mind. He pedaled his bicycle as if he were going to die doing it.

“They say he caught his daughter secretly learning Joseon speech. That house—what a mess.”

No.

“He slapped all the servants’ faces and the daughter lay flat on the floor apologizing... begging....”

It can’t be.

“They dragged her off like a dog in the daytime, they said. Forced her into a car.”

It has to not be true.

The moment Taeseok arrived at Hanamura’s estate, he threw his bicycle aside and ran. To the place Huijae was always in.

“....”

But he couldn’t even bring himself to shout Huijae’s name out loud.

Pressed tight against the wall with a frantic heart, Taeseok’s sight caught on something.

Something small, like a pebble, weighed down a white sheet of paper.

It’s Huijae.

Huijae left it.

Taeseok, realizing it instinctively, reached out with a trembling hand.

What lay on top of the wall was a necklace. A metal necklace with a photo of a bob-haired girl inside.

On the paper, in clumsy Joseon writing, there were words.

Don’t lose me.