In This Life, I Want an Oscar, Not a Husband - Chapter 36

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

This life, I choose The Oscars over a husband.
Chapter 36

* * *

Park Chang-sung’s urgency in scheduling this meeting had a simple explanation.
While Ha Eun-rae had caught his interest, he wanted to secure the meeting before the production company could insert other actors into the mix.
‘If the production company arranges a meeting, it’ll only become more troublesome.’
So he wanted to see Ha Eun-rae quickly and assess her acting abilities firsthand.
Not just that brief glimpse from the short film, not that kind of acting where she merely poured out emotions—he needed to confirm she could perform with her body as well.
In this film, the role of Soo-hyun wasn’t solely about portraying a visually impaired character.
In this disaster film, she would need to demonstrate diverse performances before a blue screen, drawing upon her imagination.
‘Ha Eun-rae can do it.’
That’s what he genuinely believed, though a lingering doubt remained in the back of his mind.
And given that the production company was pushing rising stars like Kim Byul and Kang Soo-ah, if he harbored even the slightest hesitation, it would be difficult to champion Ha Eun-rae.
‘Just be adequate… just adequate…’
Unaware that he was already rooting for Ha Eun-rae, Park Chang-sung gave a loud cue signal to her waiting outside the door.
“Action!”
Yet even hearing that, Ha Eun-rae didn’t enter.
“…?”
Through the translucent glass door, he could see Ha Eun-rae’s hand touching the smooth, elongated metal handle.
‘What is she doing?’
Then Ha Eun-rae yanked the door open abruptly.
She opened it like that?
For a visually impaired character, her movements were far too unrestrained.
Park Chang-sung’s eyes narrowed.
‘Can’t she exercise more restraint with her body?’
There were actors like this sometimes.
They excelled at building emotional layers and releasing them, but fell short in physical expression.
Such actors ultimately suited only dramas heavy on close-ups.
‘Was Ha Eun-rae one of those actors?’
Disappointment washed over him—
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Ha Eun-rae entered.
Naturally, both Kim Ran and Park Chang-sung’s eyes immediately fixed on Ha Eun-rae’s face.
Since she was portraying someone visually impaired, the most striking element was inevitably her ‘eyes.’
Eye contact and gaze control were paramount.
Yet Ha Eun-rae didn’t alter her gaze in any particular way.
She simply kept her eyes open, perfectly ordinary.
Park Chang-sung wrinkled his face again.
Of course, Ha Eun-rae’s eyes weren’t directed anywhere specific. They didn’t focus on the interior of the meeting room, didn’t trace the elongated table, didn’t scan Kim Ran’s or Park Chang-sung’s faces.
Her pupils drifted across the whites of her eyes. Purposelessly.
Yet such acting fell short of truly conveying a visually impaired person.
It was precisely when Park Chang-sung harbored such thoughts.
Ha Eun-rae extended her hand and touched the edge of the elongated table.
Then she walked in a straight line. An unwavering advance without hesitation.
Park Chang-sung, who had been so focused on how well Ha Eun-rae was portraying a ‘visually impaired person’ until moments ago, now found himself concentrating not on the visually impaired ‘Ha Eun-rae,’ but on what Ha Eun-rae herself was actually doing.
Ha Eun-rae finally stopped, her hand fumbling with the chair across from Kim Ran.
Then, without hesitation, she turned sideways and ‘saw’ Kim Ran.
In other words, she turned her face toward where she believed Kim Ran to be.
“Room 1307?”
“Ah, yes….”
Kim Ran, without realizing it, delivered the line Park Chang-sung had prepared.
Ha Eun-rae touched the table and stretched her hand diagonally across it.
There was a water cup—one that existed in the script but not in reality.
Ha Eun-rae pushed the phantom water cup toward Kim Ran.
Her movement was such that one could almost feel the weight of that cup, almost hear the water sloshing inside it.
‘…Lacking fundamentals? Not a chance. She’s got too much skill.’
Park Chang-sung couldn’t help but marvel.
Ha Eun-rae then turned back and pulled the chair backward.
Her movements seemed calculated, as if she were mentally computing exactly how far the chair would slide, what angle it would create, and how much space would open up.
The way her expression responded to each sound of the chair scraping made it palpable.
Eun-rae stopped the chair once a gap just large enough for her body had formed, then touched the edge of the table. Placing both hands on the table’s edge, she slowly lowered herself onto the chair.
And this time, she turned her face directly toward Park Chang-sung.
With such familiarity.
Only then did Park Chang-sung understand.
She was ‘perceiving’ the two people in a different way.
Not through her eyes, but through another method.
He could simply feel it.
Even without knowing exactly how.
Ha Eun-rae wasn’t performing the typical ‘visually impaired person’ acting Park Chang-sung had envisioned. She was creating an entirely different character.
Eun-rae, looking toward Park Chang-sung, spoke.
“Ask the child next to this person to get the yogurt from the refrigerator room.”
But Park Chang-sung said nothing.
Seeing Park Chang-sung’s silence, Kim Ran delivered the line in place of the dazed Director.
“How did you know there’s a child here?”
At Kim Ran’s words, Ha Eun-rae looked at Kim Ran. This time too, not with her ‘eyes,’ but with her ‘face.’
“Can you see it?”
Ha Eun-rae laughed with a rough, raw edge.
The moment Park Chang-sung and Kim Ran witnessed it, both gasped in astonishment.
This was truly….
A performance that completely inverted the entire short script.
And for good reason—the original line wasn’t “see” but “hear.”
Park Chang-sung had wanted Soo-hyun, the visually impaired character, to be defined not as a burden in a disaster narrative, but as someone with heightened auditory perception.
So he’d hoped to plant clues that would allow the character to solve the incident through sound—
Yet instead of “hear,” she’d said “see.”
And somehow, it felt perfectly natural.
Ha Eun-rae wasn’t simply acting based on sound alone.
She commanded this entire space with a mysterious sense that neither of them could fathom.
As if she’d truly unfolded a complete blueprint of the room before them.
Amid his dizzy wonder, Park Chang-sung recalled what Ha Eun-rae had asked at the beginning.

“I was curious whether this place would be familiar to my character or unfamiliar.”

Now he understood why she’d asked that question.
Park Chang-sung smiled with the expression of someone who’d been pleasantly struck from behind, and spoke to Ha Eun-rae, who continued her performance while watching Kim Ran.
“Cut. Cut.”
Watching her return to being the actress Ha Eun-rae, as if awakening from a film, Park Chang-sung even let out a hollow laugh.
And here he’d been “agonizing” over someone like this.
“I have just one question.”
“Yes, Director.”
“How did you know we were sitting here? I mean… well, of course you knew, but how did Soo-hyun know?”
He was referring to how she’d turned her face precisely toward where Kim Ran and Park Chang-sung were positioned.
He was asking why she’d done it that way.
Ha Eun-rae laughed as she understood his question.
“Your breathing.”
“…!”
“I can feel your breathing, Director.”
Ha Eun-rae spoke while looking at Park Chang-sung.

* * *

‘I’ve got this role.’
Park Chang-sung called the Production Company’s PD right in front of me, demanding they send the contract immediately.
He even gave me strict instructions not to accept any guarantee below a certain amount.
Seeing Park Chang-sung—who was famous for never interfering in money matters—act this way told me he was quite impressed with my performance.
I was about to contact Hong Jong-ho, who was waiting outside, when—
“Looks like you passed the audition?”
A woman entered the office, being greeted by the Production Company Representative, and spoke to me as she passed.
Her name was Do Eun-hee.
At this point in time, she was the top actress in the film industry.
“I had high hopes, and you didn’t disappoint.”
Do Eun-hee playfully tapped the Production Company Representative, who wore a grimace.
“What can we do? Our representative here needs to send out that contract.”
And Do Eun-hee—she had said she had high hopes for me!

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