In This Life, I Want an Oscar, Not a Husband - Chapter 7

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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 7

The staff member clapped sharply.
“Alright, we’re rolling!”
For actors, the first shoot is inevitably nerve-wracking.
It’s the first time testing how the character you’ve cultivated actually translates on camera.
Even now, nearly a decade into my acting career, I still feel the tremor.
But it’s different from my first performance.
I do it anyway, nerves and all.
Besides, this scene is early in the film—just Soo-in alone.
So there’s not much to worry about.
“Action!”
The moment the Director called action, I centered myself.
Soo-in, aware that she’s a ghost, peers through the peephole in the Entrance Door before sneaking out to steal delivery food from the Neighbor’s House, and speaks.
“Hehehehe… This is thrilling… No humans around…”
Then she abruptly opens the Entrance Door.
“Cut! That’s a wrap!”
Je-gal Se-yeon, the Director, looked satisfied as expected.
I could hear staff members murmuring here and there.
“That was amazing.”
“Is this really her first acting role?”
It’s not my first, you fools.
I’m in my tenth year now.
And among them was Hong Jong-ho, sipping away at the iced caramel macchiato I’d bought him (my brother always drank that), his mouth agape in admiration of my performance—
and Park Seo-woo, whose expression suggested he found something about my acting displeasing.
What’s bothering him this time?
Go ahead and say it.
I felt a sudden surge of hostility as I looked at Park Seo-woo.
‘So-called filming staff, yet he’s doing every errand under the sun.’
From accounting to food delivery, coffee runs, and processing receipts.
‘The future youngest Oscar-winning Director, running around like a lackey…’
The feeling is peculiar.
Twenty-year-old Park Seo-woo—truly unfamiliar.
Then Je-gal Se-yeon approached me.
“Your acting was wonderful. I think we can use this take as-is… Um… well… I’m not sure how to put this…”
Je-gal Se-yeon scratched her head.
As a director who had even won awards at short film festivals, she seemed to find it difficult to give feedback to an actor.
“No, I usually think of the first shoot as a time to align the image I want with the image the actor brings, where we work out the mismatches. But this time, nothing matches at all. I had certain ideas in mind from the Audition Hall, but this is completely different.”
Ah.
Well, that happens.
No matter how well an actor performs, if it doesn’t match the director’s vision, the actor should adjust.
An actor is like a puzzle piece in the director’s image, after all.
“…Right. Then I’ll adjust to whatever you’re comfortable saying, Director.”
She’s going to be a ten-million-viewer director in the future, so of course I should be the one to adapt…
“…No, it’s perfect. Just as it is right now.”
But Je-gal Se-yeon’s next words defied my expectations.
“…Pardon?”
“It became even more eerie and cute. What was that eye contact that wasn’t in my script? Especially that scented candle on the memorial table. How did you even come up with blowing it out before leaving?”
“Ah… That’s because ghosts usually hate the smell of scented candles. When they rush off to eat the memorial food, they blow out the candle before leaving, right?”
“…You thought of that?”
“I just happened to think of it after reading the script so many times.”
I spoke with a humble, bashful smile.
But truthfully, it was an ad-lib I’d crafted through meticulous research.
‘I was greedy for it.’
The revised script was genuinely entertaining.
Once the romance subplot opened up, Je-gal Se-yeon’s witty comedy shone through so much more brilliantly.
Honestly, at this level, I thought it could even succeed at award festivals…
‘Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.’
It’s still just the first shoot, after all.
That’s when I was thinking this.
Park Seo-woo, who had been listening to our entire conversation, opened his mouth.
“Director.”
Of course.
There was no way that spark plug of a twenty-year-old would stay quiet.
I waited quietly to hear what he’d say about my performance.
“What if we shot this scene one more time?”
“Huh? Why?”
Je-gal Se-yeon asked.
“I think it would be better with more close-up shots. Especially when she blows out the candle—”
Park Seo-woo looked toward me.
“It was really beautiful. The way her hair was flying. If we shoot it in slow motion, it’ll definitely look great.”
“Oh, yeah. That works.”
“And around 1 minute 25 seconds in the footage earlier, when you smiled. The way your face crumpled as you smiled. That—”
As I listened to Park Seo-woo’s words, I felt a sense of déjà vu.

“I watched your work. 39 minutes and 25 seconds. Your eye acting was good, but I think you missed the tone at the start of your dialogue.”
“That drama was eight episodes. The lighting around the 17-minute mark wasn’t great. It didn’t suit you, that kind of lighting.”

…What is this?
Had he been watching me like this every single time?
The words I’d felt were criticizing me down to the nanometer now sounded somehow different.

‘If it were me, I would have filmed you like this.’

That’s what he meant.
“When you’re lighting the scented candle, that smile would be perfect. It’s innocent and endearing.”
I stared intently at Park Seo-woo as he spoke as if sketching my face right before his eyes, as though I existed within his own imagined viewfinder.
Park Seo-woo, becoming aware of my gaze, stopped mid-sentence and lowered his head.
“I apologize if I overstepped. I wasn’t trying to critique your acting.”
What is this?
His tone was still rigid, even sharp as ever, yet somehow it felt entirely different now.

“Don’t you think it’s terribly outdated to retire just because you’re getting married?”

It was something he’d said on the day I visited a close senior’s birthday party right after announcing my engagement.
A man who ordinarily wouldn’t touch a drop of alcohol had been quite drunk.
He’d seemed displeased about something, and it was painfully obvious that I was the cause.
Most of all, there was that contemptuous gleam in his eyes as he looked down at me.

“I thought you were… smarter than this.”

The contempt in that gaze touched something deep within me.
The shame of fleeing the Entertainment Industry when my career hit rock bottom.
Or perhaps—
‘Maybe I really did make a foolish choice… a regret that whispered I’d been stupid to decide as I did.’
In truth, Park Seo-woo’s words held no falsehood.
My marriage had been foolish, plain and simple.
What normal man proposes marriage on the condition that his partner retire?
How had I failed to see his utter disrespect for the career of someone I loved?
‘Well, I suppose… my eyes were simply blind.’
Blind to what a “real family” could be.
I wore a bittersweet expression until I suddenly noticed all eyes had turned toward me, and I snapped back to awareness.
“…Of course, if reshooting is inconvenient, we don’t have to…”
Je-gal Se-yeon thought I was uncomfortable and was trying to be considerate!
I quickly waved my hand in protest.
“No, no, it’s fine. If I get another chance, I’d love to. I was just imagining it. I tend to prepare for my roles by rolling the scene through my mind.”
“So the footage comes alive in your head? That’s not easy for a newcomer to manage.”
Je-gal Se-yeon spoke with genuine wonder.
“Eun-rae, you’re quite a clever actress.”

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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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