“Bada-ssi, are you still struggling to memorize your lines?”
The director of the drama I recently joined, Heo Jin-ho, clicked his tongue in disappointment.
“Ugh… I know, I know,” I said.
“You know and still can’t memorize them? Huh?”
“I’m sorry… I’m really sorry.”
The director waved me off, signaling me to leave, and I naturally moved away to another spot. As I did, I felt the stinging gazes of the staff watching me with pity.
“Bada-ssi is good at acting, though.”
“But she can’t memorize lines. Such a shame.”
These were the usual comments I heard on drama sets.
An extra who’s great at facial expressions.
A standout extra.
An extra who’s a pity because she can’t memorize lines.
After a few years, I’d gotten used to it. But there were things I never got used to.
Like the comments from fans who liked me, saying on SNS that they felt sorry for my acting skills.
– Our unnie acts so well, why does she only get minor roles?
– Unnie’s voice tone is perfect for historical dramas ㅠㅠㅠㅠ
– I wish the world recognized how amazing Im Bada’s acting is…
Seeing fans’ comments, who noticed even my brief appearances, made my heart ache because I couldn’t live up to their expectations.
But… I had no choice.
Even now, just trying to read a script made my stomach churn, sending me rushing to the bathroom. It was a kind of PTSD.
I developed this PTSD at 24, when I landed a lead role in a drama called Painful Him, Happy Her.
It was while working with a fairly renowned director, Kim Jin.
He had been kind to me at first, but gradually revealed his true colors.
Because he didn’t like the tone of my lines, we had to reshoot countless times.
“Stop.”
“Stop!”
“That’s not it! Stop.”
The same scene dragged on for four hours. After over 20 NGs, the exhausted staff began resenting me.
“…Ugh.”
“Just act properly.”
The staff’s sighs, laced with complaints, and their sharp glares pushed me deeper into a hole.
“…No, Bada-ssi,” Kim Jin had said.
“I told you, didn’t I? If you’re in a good drama, you have to do it right. What is this? Your acting’s a mess. This is why we don’t use rookies.”
“Let’s do this properly, okay?”
Each time Kim Jin’s “encouraging” hand touched my shoulder, a heavy weight piled up in my heart. Like Pavlov’s dog, I spat out lines at the director’s command.
The same lines. Over and over. Until my lips went dry.
“NG! NG! NG! Im Bada-ssi!”
The NG calls and the cold, focused stares froze me in place.
And in the silence that followed, I heard it.
“Useless.”
That sharp, piercing whisper and those glares overwhelmed me, and I collapsed.
When I came to, a lot had happened. Another actress took my role, and I was naturally excluded from the shoot.
That year, at the year-end arts awards, I saw Kim Jin win the Best Director award. But I genuinely congratulated him.
If I’d insisted on continuing the drama, he might not have won that award.
A few weeks later, I spotted him in the lobby of a broadcasting station where I’d gone for an audition.
I just wanted to congratulate him on his award and say hello, but…
“Oh, that Im Bada? I was harsh on you on purpose because I wanted to give that role to another actress. Thinking back, I feel bad. But what can you do? Rookies have to endure it. Even if a rookie gets famous, how much fame do they really get?”
Kim Jin’s words stopped me in my tracks.
So, he deliberately pushed me out? Gaslit me, tormented me for no reason?
“You acted well, though. But so what? If an unknown like you had played the role, would I have won that award?”
Anger. Injustice. Tears.
A torrent of mixed emotions crushed me.
There was nothing I could do. I just turned and headed to the audition.
“Im Bada-ssi, memorize the lines for 10 minutes and perform.”
And during that audition, I realized I could no longer memorize lines. Those mixed emotions had crushed and broken me.
So, I tried every method to cope. Listening to scripts as audio, writing lines by hand, memorizing them again. But there were limits.
If I forced myself to memorize lines, my facial expressions suffered. If I focused on expressions, I couldn’t memorize lines.
So, I gave up one thing.
I settled for being an extra with minimal lines.
As long as I could be an extra, I could keep acting.
After getting my makeup done, I entered the café set for the drama shoot and sat in the chair the assistant director indicated.
Across from me, a rookie actress, Han Bo-ae, froze when she saw me.
“Let’s do well together, sunbae-nim!” she said.
“No, I’m the one who should ask for your help.”
As I sat quietly, Han Bo-ae spoke first.
“I’m such a huge fan of your acting, sunbae-nim!!”
“Oh… thank you.”
Maybe because of all the things I’d been through and the people I’d dealt with, I could now sense things just by looking into someone’s eyes.
Her bright smile and sparkling eyes were genuine, not fake.
“How do you know me?” I asked.
“Ryu Byeol told me about you.”
…Ryu Byeol?
She was my classmate, and there were rumors we were rivals.
“Did she mention me?”
“She said you’re a great actress.”
A great actress.
She hadn’t forgotten me.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“No problem! I saw you in the play Hee-jae. I’d never seen such delicate emotional acting before.”
“…Oh.”
The play Hee-jae from when I was younger. Hearing it mentioned after so long felt strangely nostalgic. Someone remembered me.
“Filming resumes!” a staff member called.
Han Bo-ae and I smiled, prepared for the shoot, and stood facing each other at the crosswalk in front of the café. At the director’s “Action!” we began acting.
The innocent-looking Han Bo-ae was gone, replaced by someone else entirely.
“…You’re lucky, unnie. You get to live so comfortably.”
Actress Han Bo-ae spoke in a voice that felt oddly cold, staring at me with hollow eyes.
As I looked back at her, tears welling up, she delivered her next line.
“Me… I’m living so fiercely. I’ll go first.”
The next scene required me to follow her across the crosswalk, tears streaming down my face.
As her line ended, tears fell. With an expression as if I had something left unsaid, I took a step forward.
Stumbling deliberately while crossing the crosswalk, I sensed something off in the atmosphere.
‘Is something wrong?’ The thought filled my mind, and then I heard it.
Beeeep!
Turning my head, I saw a massive truck barreling toward me.
I knew I had to move. But frozen in fear and confusion, I stood still, just stood there.
Crash!
As my body floated in the air and hit the ground, my mind was eerily quiet.
This was an accident. Not acting, not scripted, but real. Why was a truck charging here? Why was this the crosswalk scene? Why me?
Resentful thoughts soon turned to regret.
‘I should’ve delivered my lines more boldly. I should’ve expressed my emotions, my heart, more fully.’
People rushed toward me.
“…Im Bada-ssi!”
“Director Heo, we need to call 119…”
I couldn’t breathe properly. Gasping, I struggled to survive.
A ringing filled my ears, but I could clearly see the director’s lips moving.
‘Do you know what happens if someone dies on a drama set?!’
Oh.
‘The drama’s ruined! This drama will tank! Damn it! It’s pre-recorded, but if word gets out that someone died and bad rumors spread…’
A wave of futility washed over me like a tidal surge. Even as I lay dying, the shoot came first. Would he have said that if a lead actor had been hurt?
I spat out the blood pooling in my mouth, barely holding on.
-Want to be an actor again?
Someone spoke to me.
-If you could go back?
“I… want to.”
Who would refuse? If I could live again, if I could act properly…
★★★
‘Hey.’
‘……’
‘Hey.’
At the sound of a voice calling me, I sat up and opened my eyes.
“Huh!”
“Are you okay?”
I hurriedly checked my body. It was unscathed, impossible to believe I’d been in an accident.
“Y-Yes? Yes, I’m fine.”
“You suddenly slumped forward, so I thought you might be sick.”
The person checked on me before returning to their seat. Was it a dream? Confused, I looked around and noticed a stack of papers on the table.
“This… an audition notice?”
It was for a drama audition. But these were the materials I’d prepared when I dropped out of university to pursue auditions.
A project from 12 years ago.
The mysterious voice I’d heard earlier came back to me.
‘If you could go back?’ Had I really returned to the past?
‘No, let’s assess the situation first.’
I forced myself out of the chair and headed to the bathroom. I needed a place to see my face. Looking in the mirror, I saw long hair down to my waist and chubby cheeks.
Turning my head in confusion, I heard the voice again.
[A Main Quest has been assigned to you, who has gained a new life.]
Main Quest?
[Main Quest: Become a ‘Great Actor.’]
Along with the voice, a translucent window glowing with soft pink light appeared before my eyes.
It was real. A new life and a chance to act again had truly come.
I clenched my fists, trying to stop my body from trembling with joy. An uncontrollable excitement surged, along with confidence that I could achieve anything in this life. As if continuing that momentum, another window appeared.
[A Sub Quest has been activated.]
[Sub Quest: Audition for as an extra.]
[Reward: 1 Point]
Seeing in the sub-quest window, my eyes widened. ? I recalled my memories as I headed to the bathroom.
It was a drama that cast only rookie actors from its first season. Every actor cast in it rose to stardom, gaining widespread recognition.
Because of that, over a thousand people applied even for extra roles.
‘Audition for that drama?’
From what I’d heard, the director of would cut anyone who didn’t meet their standards, even slightly.
Even if you were cast, you could be dropped on set, or if the footage didn’t satisfy them, it could be entirely edited out…
And could someone like me, who couldn’t memorize lines, even pass the audition?
I washed my face with cold water to calm my anxious thoughts.
‘Oh.’
A sudden realization sent a shiver through me.
Since I’d returned to the past…
“Could I… memorize lines now?”
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