I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

IP 85.152 watched Episode 2 of while managing the gallery.

“It’s relatively clean. Well, with this genre, it can’t really be helped.”

Already hardened by the intense fan wars and trolling in the gallery, IP 85.152 had reached the level of casually watching the drama while checking every single post that came up.

[Youth Disqualified! Minor Gallery]

[It’s so funny and relatable how Heejeong falls in love so fast LOLOLOL]

[Wow her ex-boyfriend is so annoying why is he even talking to her]

[Honestly if your ex is still in your daily life you end up being super careful with your next relationship just because you don’t want to lose]

was, quite literally, a healing drama built on human relatability.

Through Jeong Heejeong, everyone could relate to the embarrassing love stories of their university days. Through Go Yungyo, those familiar with parental favoritism found themselves tearing up.

But among them, the most painful character—the one people felt for the most—was Han Yeoreum’s Na Yuna.

[Retakers start crying just from seeing Na Yuna’s face]

Looking back now, it feels like nothing, but in your early twenties you really think the name of your university is everything. The sense of inferiority and fear of starting behind others makes life unbearably hard...

When I got in, I was only one year older than my classmates, but I still hesitated, wondering if I was even allowed to go on blind dates. Even posting a picture of my department jacket on Yousta made me anxious about what my old classmates would think.

Anon(18.1): I spent so much money on applications and failed everything... I felt so guilty toward my parents that I couldn’t even look them in the eye for months, knowing how expensive the prep academy was.

Anon(23.111): What shocked me the most was realizing I wouldn’t get to experience all the things people associate with being twenty...LOLOL It sounds trivial, but I had putting a university timetable as my phone wallpaper on my wishlist, and I seriously spiraled because of that.

Anon(34.222): Aren’t there barely any dramas that portray retakers like this T_T That’s why I love it more... This is something only people who’ve gone through it can truly feel. The academic inferiority complex lasts a long time;

Everyone watching pretended to be calm, but deep down, they all knew—Na Yuna had long held the strongest longing for university life.

That was why, when Yuna—who kept looking at other people’s SNS through a private account—stood in front of the bulletin board, they couldn’t help but sincerely root for her.

-If you retook three times, even joining a club becomes a huge dilemma... You start thinking, “Shouldn’t I be building my résumé instead of wasting time?” T_T You’re already graduating late, so you worry about getting a job from your first year

-fck this is so true TT__TT this hits way too hard

After staring at the club notice for a long time, then going back to browsing others’ SNS, Na Yuna finally began filling out the club application.

With that, Episode 2 of came to an end.

“...Now that I think about it, this situation feels familiar.”

While scrolling through the minor gallery, IP 85.152 realized something.

It reminded them of the gallery, where massive amounts of posts had flooded in.

“Why are there so many long posts?”

Go Yungyo, Jeong Heejeong, Na Yuna—none of their stories had even properly unfolded yet.

And yet, after just two episodes, viewers already understood every character in .

As if they saw each character as another version of themselves.

* * *

“Episode 2 done!”

At the filming site of , they had monitored Episode 2 together following Episode 1. Both staff and actors were smiling brightly.

“It really turned out well. Right, director?”

“Hehehe... it was worth putting the editing team through hell....”

So Yesol, whose dark circles were growing deeper, smiled with satisfaction.

The start of had gone smoothly, just as expected. The script-reading vlog and the production press conference—unprecedented planning—had played a huge role.

“And if we add one more thing...”

So Yesol looked at the three actors on set.

Just by their appearance alone, it was obvious who played which character. That was how well they had interpreted their roles.

And among them, the one anchoring everything was Han Yeoreum.

So Yesol recalled the decision Han Yeoreum had made before filming began. At first, she hadn’t understood it at all.

After all, it was right when Han Yeoreum was gaining massive attention through .

“She turned down sponsorship?”

“...Han Yeoreum?”

“Isn’t this when her value is at its highest?”

The main audience of the drama would be women in their 20s and 30s. And those who had followed from the vlog were highly likely to be sensitive to trends.

The kind of viewers who could recognize clothing brands even from a brief passing shot.

“If someone’s working multiple part-time jobs, wearing expensive clothes feels off. It’s unnatural.”

Han Yeoreum hadn’t missed that point.

To create her own version of Na Yuna, she boldly discarded what needed to be discarded.

“So you’re styling her with your own personal clothes...?”

At So Yesol’s question, Han Yeoreum had simply smiled and nodded.

Because of that, Han Yeoreum’s styling in Episodes 1 and 2 felt like a real university student—someone you could actually see somewhere on campus.

-Does anyone know where Yeoreum’s padded jacket in Ep1 is from TT_TT

-That came out 3 years ago, it’s discontinued now...

-After seeing poor characters wearing luxury brands all the time, this feels insanely realistic LOLOLOL

-The worn-out tips of her sneakers are crazy detail... I’ve watched all her works but this sync is the best

-Even the shoelaces LOLOLOL the lived-in detail is insane

After finishing the monitoring, So Yesol had to suppress the smile that kept creeping up.

Han Yeoreum had many strengths—natural acting, outstanding analytical ability.

“But above all...”

So Yesol looked at Han Yeoreum, who was checking her own fan accounts on her phone.

The strength she had noticed immediately.

“Her voice.”

From now on, narration would gradually be added into .

To create the feeling of getting closer to the characters, as if hearing their inner thoughts.

So Yesol was already looking forward to what kind of comfort Han Yeoreum would deliver to all the Na Yunas in this world.

Because Han Yeoreum always showed more than expected.

How deeply her calm, confessional monologues would move the hearts of this generation.

In a drama like this, the most important thing was how much empathy it could draw from viewers. So it was no exaggeration to say that the completion of the work depended on Han Yeoreum.

A life drama people would rewatch every season.

So Yesol was certain would become exactly that, as she looked at Han Yeoreum.

* * *

Do Gyeoul walked down the corridor of a nursing hospital.

The space itself had similarities to a university hospital.

Bright lights, white hallways, a faint chill rising from the floor.

But the overall atmosphere was completely different.

“This feels much closer to an apocalypse.”

Do Gyeoul defined it briefly.

In a university hospital, life and death were decided in seconds.

In a nursing hospital, time slowly flowed toward death.

After studying the lives of nurses in a university hospital, Do Gyeoul had chosen a nursing hospital as her next location.

Because zombies and the elderly had similarities.

Eyes without focus. Meaningless groans slipping from the tongue. Creatures that merely breathed mechanically, with only the shell of a human remaining.

Perhaps the person who first imagined zombies had lived closely with dementia patients, she thought.

“Excuse me, could you please handle just this today?”

“Yes. I’ll take it.”

“Oh dear, thank you. How can you be so....”

Do Gyeoul lifted the corners of her lips into a smile.

Here, she was almost an object of reverence.

The fact that a nationally beloved actress personally came to volunteer deeply moved them.

Absolute good.

As she wrung out a towel soaked in warm water, Do Gyeoul once again recalled the role she had taken on.

Saving lives. Comforting. Caring. Standing firm to protect them.

That was the character Yoo Yeonji.

“All life is equal...”

As she wiped the arm of an elderly patient lying in bed, she felt the texture beneath her fingertips.

Sagging skin. Hard bones. A body filled with wrinkles.

It was not a pleasant sensation.

“I still don’t understand.”

Do Gyeoul let out a quiet sigh.

She could cry if needed. Scream if told to. Crawl pitifully or embrace the dying in denial.

All she had to do was combine the expressions and voice she ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) had learned, tailored to the moment.

But dignity of life. Equality. Those things—she could not understand them.

To perform what others called “deep acting,” she still lacked far too much information.

“What made you decide to volunteer here?”

A presence approached from behind.

Since coming to the nursing hospital, Do Gyeoul had heard this question countless times.

“They’re not really asking out of curiosity anymore.”

She could tell. This was just an attempt at small talk.

She responded smoothly.

“I thought I’d be good at it at first... but there’s really a lot of work.”

“That’s just how caregiving is. With arms that thin, it’s even harder. Even someone like me struggles.”

“I really respect all of you.”

She watched the woman beam with pride at her words.

Then, carefully ensuring her true purpose—studying acting—was not revealed, she continued.

“You must find a lot of fulfillment in this work.”

“Fulfillment....”

Do Gyeoul couldn’t understand why Yoo Yeonji followed the dying wish of a senior nurse she had only known for a year or two.

So she had to gather fragments. Even if they were just crumbs of humanity, she had to collect them to complete her acting.

“I just do it to make a living. That’s all.”

The answer fell flat.

In Yoo Yeonji’s world, the concept of money had disappeared. No matter how hard you worked, there was no real reward.

Her life seemed utterly foolish to Do Gyeoul.

“If it’s not for money... then what?”

At that moment, perhaps feeling that her answer had been too lacking for such a famous actress, the caregiver added:

“When I get really tired, I think about quitting. But people who’ve worked long as caregivers are welcomed anywhere. They think, if you’ve endured something this hard, you won’t quit easily no matter what you do.”

Looking closely at her hands, the joints were thickened—evidence of long labor.

“But then I think... if not me, then who will do it?”

Do Gyeoul blinked.

“If I quit and someone else comes... what if they’re one of those people you see in the news? Hurting and abusing weak elderly patients. If that happens, I’d feel terrible.”

If not me, then who.

That sentence pierced her mind.

She recalled the phrase carved into the walls of the university hospital.

[Meeting is another form of healing]

This made far more sense than that nonsense.

In a world where all systems had collapsed, meeting someone and healing each other was nothing but fantasy.

“And well, this might sound silly, but someday I’ll need care too. People get back what they give, right? I haven’t lived as a bad person, so the person beside me later won’t be bad either. Thinking like that comforts me.”

Only then did Do Gyeoul begin to understand Yoo Yeonji, at least in part.

The senior nurse had been absolute good—someone who saved lives relentlessly, only to be infected by selfish others, and even in that moment left behind a dying wish to save others.

But Yoo Yeonji was different.

She grew angry. She wanted to give up. She despaired.

And yet, she kept choosing the foolish path.

That was what made her impossible for Do Gyeoul to fully interpret.

“I’ll step out to the restroom for a moment....”

Do Gyeoul hurried out of the room. Her breath grew rough, filled with excitement.

“It works.”

Everyone makes choices that benefit themselves.

The senior nurse must have been no different.

Now, Do Gyeoul finally understood the basis of that belief.

If not me, then who.

Not acting when you can... makes your heart heavy.

A foolish sense of responsibility.

Perhaps that was why she had faced death so calmly.

The burden had been too heavy, too exhausting—so even at the moment of infection, she hadn’t resented others.

It was almost like suicide.

Once she thought of it as resignation from overwork, everything made sense instantly.

“It works....”

And Yoo Yeonji’s principle—that everything eventually comes back.

In an apocalyptic world, survival alone was nearly impossible.

You needed someone strong or intelligent beside you.

And what kind of person would such people choose?

Someone who had shown at least a minimum of altruism.

“If I want my acting to feel natural... I need that person.”

Do Gyeoul thought of the unknown actress who had once stood on the same stage as Han Yeoreum.

At the nursing hospital desk, the staff were watching .

Do Gyeoul quietly stared at Han Yeoreum on the small monitor—then smiled.

Tak Jeongyun received Do Gyeoul’s contact the very next day.