In This Life, I Want an Oscar, Not a Husband - Chapter 35

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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This life, I choose The Oscars over a husband.
Chapter 35

“You were startled, weren’t you?”
At those words, I let out an awkward cough.
“How did you know I was startled?”
Can she see my expression somehow?
And how did she turn to face me so precisely?
“I could hear it in your breathing.”
“Ah….”
They say people with visual impairments develop heightened senses to compensate, and it seems to be true.
Seo A-reum then promptly reached for the red ballpoint pen near me.
“I didn’t tell you where that was…?”
“I heard you take it out earlier.”
“Huh.”
“You’re startled again.”
At Seo A-reum’s words, I finally held my breath.
Then Seo A-reum turned to face me again, as if exasperated.
The word “faced” was exactly right.
Seo A-reum drew closer, listening intently to my breathing, then grasped my hand holding the blue ballpoint pen.
“…?”
“You said you’re an actress. So I was curious if you have nice features like Kyung-bin does.”
“But why are you touching my hand….”
“For us, beautiful hands make a beautiful person.”
Oh. I see.
This kind of thing would be useful to remember for acting.
As I entertained that convenient thought, I coughed awkwardly watching Seo A-reum’s fingers fidgeting over my hand.
“But my hands… aren’t really pretty.”
“Why not?”
At Seo A-reum’s question, I hesitated before answering.
“I’ve worked so many part-time jobs since childhood that I have calluses everywhere. I even have scars from wiping down the grill at a meat restaurant.”
Because of that, in my previous life when I worked as a jewelry model, I even had to hire a hand double.
Yet Seo A-reum continued to trace my hand silently.
“See, they’re not really pretty….”
“They’re beautiful. Your face.”
I looked down at my hand.
“Where?”
Seo A-reum shrugged at my question and replied.
“Non-disabled people think pretty means smooth skin without calluses and things like that, but our standards are different from yours, you know?”
Non-disabled people.
That phrasing pierced my chest in an oddly unsettling way.
I see. From their perspective, we are the “non”-disabled ones.
“What are your standards?”
“How warm they are, how flexible, how even. When you hold hands—”
Seo A-reum lifted our clasped hands.
“—how well you can feel that person.”
While Seo A-reum’s eyes drifted into the void, I studied her expression.
“I can feel everything in your hands, teacher. What kind of life you’ve lived.”
“….”
It was then that I found myself momentarily speechless.
Seo A-reum released my hand, marked the final line with a red pen, and rose from her seat.
She unfolded a small rod-like object with a snap, and before I could even pull back her chair, she stood and navigated with precision toward where the Special Education Teacher sat.
“Teacher, I finished everything. Can you grade it?”
“Sure. Sit here.”
Tap, tap.
Areum settled into her seat, tapping her cane against the ground with practiced ease.
No hesitation, no fumbling like you’d see in movies or dramas—just assured, unhesitating movement.
The Special Education Teacher didn’t seem inclined to help her at all.
I recalled what Seo Kyung-bin had told me before I started volunteering.

“We’re not here to help these children eat and study. We’re here to help them learn to eat and study on their own. More precisely, to help them be able to do so for the rest of their lives.”

Disabled people who can live independently.
Why had I never thought of it that way before?
I had assumed they would struggle to survive without others’ help, but that was wrong.
Watching Areum’s assured movements, I understood.
They were beings fully capable of living without the help of non-disabled people.

* * *

A few days later.
The meeting with film director Park Chang-sung was arranged.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Park Chang-sung.”
“Hello. I’m Ha Eun-rae, a rookie actress.”
As I bowed to Park Chang-sung, the Adaptation Writer standing beside him caught my attention.
Kim Ran.
She was an Adaptation Writer who worked as one unit with Park Chang-sung, but she would later become an independent drama writer.
‘She became quite famous by producing dramas with a cinematic atmosphere.’
Definitely someone worth knowing.
I bowed to her as well.
“Hello. I’m Ha Eun-rae, a rookie actress.”
Kim Ran spoke with a surprised expression that the greeting had extended to her.
“Oh, I’m… not usually introduced, but I’m the Adaptation Writer. I’m Kim Ran. I really enjoyed watching ‘To My Dear Kim Ji-hyun’. Right, Director?”
“Well…”
Park Chang-sung trailed off.
Then he observed me quietly, as if seeing right through me.
“Park Seo-woo wrote the screenplay really well. The filming was excellent too. The long-take technique was impressive. Most actors love scenes where they build up emotions like that, you know. It’s good for showing themselves off.”
Ah.
There’s a barb in those words.
She’s saying my performance in ‘To My Dear Kim Ji-hyun’ was thanks to Park Seo-woo’s skill in building emotional layers.
‘I suppose the audition has already begun.’
She’s deliberately needling me to see how I react.
But I’m well aware that a camera is already rolling in front of me.
And I also know my face is probably looking quite good on camera right now.
I’m an actress who photographs well, after all.
“But I’m curious whether Eun-rae can also express subtle emotions well. Naturalistic acting, you know. This role requires something quite unique. Small movements, small expressions—that’s how the character needs to be portrayed.”
Park Chang-sung observed me with sharp eyes, then took a step back.
“This must feel sudden. You haven’t even received the script yet, and I’m already talking about the character. The script is highly confidential, so that’s why. Actually, the reason I wanted to see you is because of the role of Soo-hyun, a visually impaired person. Could we see a one-minute scene right now? Just walk from over there, sit down, and deliver a few lines.”
Ha, this crazy bastard.
He’s asking me to act as a visually impaired person right here in a meeting?
That’s so typical of Park Chang-sung.
But—
“Yes, I’ll begin.”
I’m crazier than he is.
I’m an actress living life twice over.

* * *

Park Chang-sung.
He was a commercially successful director, but simultaneously renowned among actors for his exacting standards.
A director who expected every performer—newcomer or veteran alike—to execute their role with precision.
In exchange, he prepared his own work with equal thoroughness.
A director who ignored production company and talent agency pressure, thinking only of the characters he envisioned for his films.
‘Viewed charitably, it’s principled integrity. From the production company’s perspective, he’s simply obstinate.’
Yet watching him discard actors who were box office guarantees and still deliver successful films every time, I’d always thought he was simply exceptional—but this was the reason why.
‘So that’s how it works.’
I accepted the script Kim Ran handed me.
The script was sparse.
Two lines.
Memorization wouldn’t be difficult.
I steadied my breathing and recalled Areum’s words.

“You’re pretty. Your face.”

From now on, I would perform as the person who wore the ‘face’ I’d shown Areum.
My beautiful face.
I gazed down at my own hands.
As I walked toward the door, I subtly traced my fingers across the meeting room table and chairs, committing their smooth texture to memory.
I held that sensation in my mind.
And before opening the door, I spoke.
“Director, may I ask one thing?”
Park Chang-sung nodded at my question.
“I was wondering whether this location would be familiar to my character, or unfamiliar.”
At those words, Park Chang-sung’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though he hadn’t anticipated the question.
“It’s a familiar place.”
“I see. Thank you.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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