I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

This wasn’t the first time I had filmed a scene with a male actor.

There was 〈ParCheHi〉 with Joo Junseo, where we created intimacy without any physical contact. There was 〈Strange Tales〉, which had a proper romance line. And even 〈Unfair Trade〉, where the tension was felt down to the nanosecond.

‘There’s no way he could’ve predicted something like this.’

...Or could he?

Were all the performances I thought I had done well actually missing something all along?

‘What is my romance acting lacking that it’s falling apart like this right now?’

My thoughts wouldn’t connect. At this rate, I’d have to get through the entire shoot half-heartedly.

Without that joy of seeing what was in my head come to life right in front of me. Without that exhilaration that only exists on set.

“It’s not bad.”

I didn’t want to drag the shoot along in that kind of lukewarm state.

Myeong Jeha, watching my shaken eyes, spoke.

“I’ve been thinking this for a while... Yeoreum, I don’t think you can do romance without a narrative.”

A narrative?

“In short, you need a reason. ‘Just because’ doesn’t work for you.”

Only then did I begin to vaguely understand.

“...Because there’s no character explanation in a music video... I can’t do it properly?”

“Yeah.”

“What about when I acted in front of Jin Eunseol on 〈EmBubu〉? That wasn’t bad, was it?”

Caught off guard by the unexpected reasoning, I recalled that moment.

“I told you I liked you... You can’t do this to me...”

That time, when I had done romance acting on the spot—the reaction hadn’t been bad. Even though every single line was rooted in affection from beginning to end.

“Yeoreum.”

Myeong Jeha took my right hand off his shoulder.

“Love can be done alone. But a relationship isn’t something you do alone.”

His warmth spread through our overlapping hands.

Unlike earlier, when I was holding the ice cream tub, his hand was warm.

“Back then, Jin Eunseol couldn’t speak properly, so she had no choice but to match you. You pulled her along, you could say. In the end, you were the only one acting.”

“....”

“That’s why.”

I had nothing to say to his analysis.

Because it was right.

Still, a sigh slipped out of me.

“...Then you should’ve told me earlier. That I’d be like this. Why didn’t you say anything until we got to set?”

Myeong Jeha fell silent for a moment before answering.

“Yeah... I wonder why I didn’t.”

His gaze rested on me calmly.

“Maybe I thought you’d be different, even without some made-up narrative.”

Only then did I realize he was still holding my hand. The moment I became aware of it, my whole body felt strangely ticklish.

I tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go, just smiling.

“Anyway, putting that aside... your filming environment has been too good so far. There are plenty of cases where you shoot the ending scene the first day. You should practice pretending to fall in love without time to build emotions, don’t you think? Haha.”

I quickly shifted my tone, trying to match his attempt to lighten the mood. This was getting awkward.

“Then you should help me more, right? Later, when we do romance together, imagine how many people will come watch this music video! It’s good for you too, not just me. You should act like a professional, right? This is all material that stays forever.”

“Us? You and me doing romance?”

“You won’t?”

I froze for a second—so much that my voice nearly cracked.

“I just assumed my first romance would be with you.”

Myeong Jeha burst out laughing.

“No, you—what about you? You’ve never thought about that?”

His unexpected reaction made me stumble over my words.

‘Has he really never thought about it at all?’

For an actor, romance projects are critical.

Romance is directly tied to public likability.

‘I’ve already proven my acting skills. What I need next is something else.’

With the ritual scene in 〈Strange Tales〉 and the five-minute monologue in 〈Unfair Trade〉, I had shown my acting ability.

What remained was advertising power.

‘The kind that attracts investors for actresses.’

The most important thing in drama and film production—

Investment.

And one of the pillars that brings that investment is the actress’s advertisers.

‘Even if I’m not at the level of male actors who attract traditional investors, I still need to establish myself as an actress ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) who brings in advertisers!’

The impact I had as Yeon Huijae in 〈The Great Garland〉 had, unfortunately, leaned heavily on the director’s work.

If it had been a different project, a different character, I wouldn’t have gotten that level of reaction.

‘The power to carry an entire project.’

That’s what I needed now.

And I believed romance would be the foundation for that.

So if my first romance was with Myeong Jeha, it would spark a huge reaction from the audience of 〈The Great Garland〉, and there wasn’t a male actor who acted as well as him, and most importantly he had a great eye for scripts, wouldn’t cause scandals, and—

“Isn’t it? Hey... you should do it with me...”

He couldn’t just avoid romance in his filmography either. Was he planning to do it with someone else?

‘Before my regression, Dami did really well in rom-coms... is it Dami? Or someone else? Who? It definitely can’t be Do Gyeoul...’

I looked at him with desperate eyes.

“Ha.”

Myeong Jeha, who had been quietly watching me, let out an even brighter laugh than before.

“I didn’t know you wanted to do romance with me that badly, Yeoreum. You’ve already decided everything in your head.”

“Don’t joke around.”

“So, when do you want to do it?”

“After I film 〈Seoul Metropolitan City〉? If I’m going to seriously expand overseas, rom-com is the best genre...”

Was he against rom-coms? A lot of male actors didn’t like breaking out through that genre.

‘If needed, I can compromise to melodrama...’

Actually, since Myeong Jeha had a strong image as a film actor, doing melodrama might benefit me even more.

‘I’m already doing well in dramas, but films are a different arena.’

I’d heard most of the scripts coming his way were films anyway... If he insisted on melodrama, I could jump straight into a leading film role.

‘Alright. Calculation complete.’

My inner “Han Yeoreum calculator” had done its job perfectly.

I looked at him with a clear message: I’ll follow whatever genre you want.

“You want to do romance with me that much?”

“Yes... really.”

Myeong Jeha lightly traced over my hand that he was still holding.

“Alright. I get that you really want to do romance with me. But save it.”

“What? Why?”

“You want a Grand Prize, don’t you?”

Grand Prize.

At those words, my breath caught.

Like I had forgotten how to breathe.

“If the same actors keep pairing up, investors might get bored... but the public gets tired of it even faster. So the project where you and I meet—across all genres—you’ve only got one left.”

〈The Great Garland〉, 〈Seoul Metropolitan City〉, this music video—and then...

Han Yeoreum’s Grand Prize-winning work.

Without me realizing it, Myeong Jeha had already drawn out my future.

“You are doing romance, Yeoreum.”

A higher, greater tomorrow for Han Yeoreum.

“Work with different men. And when you really want that Grand Prize—come to me.”

Among the three major broadcast stations, only a handful of actresses had ever won the Grand Prize.

Because it isn’t determined by popularity alone.

It depends on who truly carries the story.

To win a Grand Prize, you must be the protagonist—not a ‘female’ protagonist, just the protagonist.

“There might be a lot of men you can do romance with, but I’m the only one who can take you all the way to a Grand Prize.”

Female-centered scripts are avoided everywhere.

Because male actors who can attract investment don’t choose them.

Control over the narrative defines your next project.

Female-driven works are easily criticized—“Why was she even there?” “The character lacks appeal,” “It would’ve been better if she didn’t appear at all.”

In a gamble where one project can make you or ruin you, no top-tier actor chooses the obvious losing move.

“I’ll make you the undeniable lead.”

Except for the man standing in front of me.