I’m an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

Professor Geum Bit-gang yawned in the middle of a traffic jam.

Welcoming freshmen for a new semester had always excited her, but for the past few years, it had only felt tedious.

‘Is it time for me to retire?’

Geum Bit-gang.

She was a renowned figure who had once held the title of the nation’s actress, thanks to her solid vocal skills honed through theater and expressive performances that drew everyone in.

‘…Right.’

As she aged, staying active in the field became too strenuous, leading her to become a professor, but now, even that seemed to be reaching its end.

‘Just until this year.’

She had lost both her lingering attachment to acting and her passion for nurturing talented students.

Though she still wanted to act, time had passed too quickly, and though she had poured everything into teaching, no one seemed to follow her lead.

‘At least this year, there were two decent ones….’

Geum Bit-gang thought of the freshmen. Of course, none were promising enough to become her protégés.

‘This is a good point to bow out.’

Do Gyeoul, the only daughter of a famous actress and a former child actor.

Myeong Je-ha, who at the age of nineteen had played a key role in a ten-million-ticket movie just a year ago.

‘Now that I think about it….’

As she sorted through the freshmen in her mind, Geum Bit-gang’s eyes briefly sparkled.

‘There was an intriguing one among this year’s freshmen.’

The Korea National University of Arts, abbreviated as Daeyejong, was the hardest school to get into in the country.

Among them, Geum Bit-gang, a pivotal figure, wielded significant influence in selecting freshmen.

The admission of the student, whom everyone else deemed inadequate, was solely thanks to Geum Bit-gang.

“Starting free acting now.”

Geum Bit-gang recalled the clumsy acting from back then and chuckled.

She had chosen Han Yeoreum, whose eyes had caught her attention, despite her numerous shortcomings.

‘She looked like she knew no fear.’

Her bright eyes gave the impression of someone who didn’t know what it meant to be nervous.

‘And she lacked self-consciousness.’

She could act instinctively without calculating how others might perceive her.

Geum Bit-gang added one last name to her list of notable freshmen.

Han Yeoreum, who reportedly had less than half a year of acting experience.

‘Though, of course, that’s unlikely.’

Still, if any one of them could learn everything Geum Bit-gang had to offer, she felt she could postpone her retirement as much as needed.

***

‘How long has it been?’

I took a deep breath in front of the school building.

It had been a while since I last came here.

When I first heard that I had been accepted here, I had been so thrilled.

‘Of course, I didn’t even graduate.’

Hyeong Chang-wook used to say this: I had to debut the proper way.

“At the time, I thought everything a senior said was the truth.”

After being forced to give up the lead role to Do Gyeoul in my first-year theater production, I immediately took a leave of absence.

Following Hyeong Chang-wook’s advice, I headed to Hyehwa and started as the youngest member of a theater troupe.

‘All I did was sell tickets, clean, and act as a practice partner….’

Yeah. I wasted time.

Even after consistently working with the troupe, all I managed was a few minor extra roles.

I practiced intensely on my own, but I was never given a significant part.

‘I auditioned countless times….’

Every time, something went wrong.

Eventually, I gave up and resorted to taking extra roles offered by Hyeong Chang-wook.

‘All my luck went to Do Gyeoul, which is why I ended up like that.’

Even those roles, it turned out, were ones Do Gyeoul had inserted me into just to watch me act.

‘I won’t make the same mistakes this time.’

I sighed lightly and regained my composure.

With all my memories of the future intact, bad luck wouldn’t follow me anymore.

I knew which films and dramas would succeed, what brands would run good commercials, and even trending styles and social media strategies.

‘Oh, and let’s not forget web novel-based dramas too.’

I searched my memory and tried out a line fitting for this situation.

“Status… window?”

Ding!

[Name: Han Yeoreum]

Level: Unknown

Title: None

Immersion: B+

Analytical Ability: C

Delivery: D+

Quick Thinking: C+

Focus: B+

Recognition: F

Artistry: F

Skills

〈Main Character on Stage〉 F

A display showing my current stats appeared.

‘But what is this?’

No matter how I looked at it, my stats were those of a complete novice.

“…Even though I’ve been acting for ten years, my stats are this unimpressive?”

Not a single A-rank stat? I held my forehead and let out a sigh.

Even the level was cruelly marked.

“Unknown….”

I froze in place, unable to believe the situation.

Then, the status window provided an additional explanation.

System

>>> All your stats and skills are currently locked.
The only way to restore them is to focus solely on completing missions!

I had to put in considerable effort to understand this harsh reality, even forgetting how close I was to being late.

“Ah~.”

I let out a deep sigh, but as I heard my voice resonating outward, confidence began to rise again.

“Well, it doesn’t matter!”

Even though my stats were locked, my voice remained unchanged.

***

A voice honed through countless hours of practice on an empty stage. I decided to trust the path I had walked.

“Now, before I explain what kind of lecture I’ll be giving—.”

The professor’s voice, standing at the very front of the bright lecture hall, carried clearly to the back.

Professor Geum Bit-gang, speaking with more precise diction than an announcer, spotted a freshman sneaking in through the back door.

‘Look at that?’

Lateness on the first day of Geum Bit-gang’s class. Her face showed a smile laced with displeasure.

“Student.”

Geum Bit-gang pointed at the top-ranking freshman sitting in the front row.

“And.”

After calling on Do Gyeoul, she turned her gaze to the insolent freshman who had barely managed to find a seat at the very back.

“Student. Come forward.”

The tardy student, the interesting one Geum Bit-gang remembered, was Han Yeoreum.

As the two of them stepped forward, the eyes of the freshmen immediately fixed on them.

Unlike Do Gyeoul, who seemed at ease with the attention, Han Yeoreum appeared slightly nervous, glancing at each student’s face one by one.

‘I need someone with at least a B-grade focus to complete this mission. But these are freshmen; their stats are lacking.’

Of course, Yeoreum wasn’t actually nervous but was simply assessing the freshmen as potential mission tools.

Watching the two, Professor Geum Bit-gang addressed the rest of the class.

“I don’t think there’s a single freshman here who hasn’t seen a play!”

Her strong, youthful voice reverberated through the lecture hall.

“A play is exactly what it sounds like—explaining through words and actions to the audience. It’s different from film! It’s different from drama! A musical? Even more so!”

It meant that there was no editing magic to rely on. Without a solid foundation, you would simply crumble in theater.

“You must bring credibility directly to the audience’s face and push it at them!”

The students looked serious, seemingly understanding her point.

Geum Bit-gang, who smiled faintly, gestured toward Do Gyeoul.

“Anything is fine. Recite a line for me.”

The freshmen, recognizing child actor Do Gyeoul, turned their attention to her.

Her celebrity-like features already made her a fascinating spectacle.

Without any sign of fluster, Do Gyeoul opened her mouth like a prepared actor.

“The Seagull. I’ll begin.”

Do Gyeoul immediately started acting.

Even in front of the great actress Geum Bit-gang, she showed no hesitation, leaving her peers in awe.

As she bowed her head and slowly raised it again, her expression had completely transformed.

“It’s not too late…. It’s really not too late, right? I’ve been worried all day, and I was so scared!”

While not on the same level as Geum Bit-gang, her precise diction, natural expressions, and effective use of her hands were quite commendable.

The hands clasped over her chest trembled slightly.

Standing on stage, staring into the void, Do Gyeoul spoke as if persuading someone unseen.

“I drove recklessly… talking and talking non-stop.”

The students’ pure focus fell entirely on Do Gyeoul as she continued, her gaze slowly lowering.

She had chosen a famous play that everyone had practiced at least once, making it an obvious choice for attention.

“Look at me. I’m so… out of breath.”

Even her labored breaths were beyond expectation.

Then, as her head, which had been drooping limply, rose again, the slow motion carried an inexplicable strength.

“Yet like a seagull—.”

Pausing momentarily to catch her breath, Do Gyeoul demonstrated her understanding of stage presence, knowing how to modulate his intensity.

“…I am drawn to this lake.”

Everyone held their breath until she delivered that final line.

With eyes shimmering, Do Gyeoul finished by lowering her gaze, wrapping up her performance.

“My heart is full of you.”

After a brief silence, the room erupted in applause and growing cheers.

“You see? The biggest weapon an actor has is skill. That’s what theater is—a pure test of skill. No matter how luxurious the set, it’s limited. In a world with CG, 3D, and even 4D, for an actor to have marketability, there’s only one thing. Pure skill.”

Professor Geum Bit-gang then turned her eyes toward Han Yeoreum, who still seemed uneasy.

It was her signal to begin.

“Um….”

Carefully opening her mouth, Yeoreum asked,

“Does it have to be a theater line?”