In This Life, I Want an Oscar, Not a Husband - Chapter 81

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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 81

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The Apartment.
While it presented itself as a disaster film featuring zombies, this movie had a distinct edge over existing productions.
Within the confined space of an apartment, Sun-young—a woman who lost her husband and lived consumed by hatred for the world—gradually discovers meaning through saving others, weaving an emotional narrative that sets it apart.
‘And because the setting is fantastical, I’ll have to act while constantly staring at that green screen.’
I squinted at the expanse of green screen stretching beyond the film set, which had been reconstructed to look like an entire apartment building.
This was undoubtedly a shoot that demanded actors draw upon their imagination to its fullest extent.
You see it in those Hollywood filmmaking documentaries, don’t you?
Actors who must react with shock to a person in a motion-capture suit playing a monster.
In such situations, even the most brilliant actor inevitably experiences a moment of doubt.
That’s why I’d deliberately arrived early to assess the conditions on set.
“Nervous?”
Hong Jong-ho, noticing my tense expression as I surveyed the film set, casually asked from beside me.
He worked his skilled hands—honed from sports massage training at the gym—across my shoulders.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow!”
Ouch, that really hurts.
“I haven’t been exercising lately, so I’ve lost muscle mass.”
“…You explain everything through muscle loss, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
Depressed? Muscle loss. Sad? Muscle loss. That obsession with muscle loss.
“You’ll do great. Come on, let’s do this, Ha Eun-rae!”
I let out a soft laugh at his words.
He was delighted despite arriving three hours early because of me.
I smiled quietly as I noticed the sticky notes marked throughout my script.
Hong Jong-ho had read through The Apartment script and marked every single scene I appeared in.
Right. With this kind of support, there’s no way I won’t do well.
And I—
‘I have experience, after all.’
Hong Jong-ho seemed worried I wouldn’t adapt to this environment, but I’d done set shoots countless times before.
This level of challenge wasn’t something that would faze me.
‘The real issue is—’
“Prepare for shooting!”
At the staff’s call, I spotted Kang Ye-ji in the distance.
This scene depicted Kang Ye-ji, who lived in the apartment below Do Eun-hee’s—playing Hee-jung—requesting help from Sun-young.
Do Eun-hee had grown somewhat tense due to the stunt requiring her to scale the apartment’s exterior wall.
As a result, getting multiple takes was proving difficult.
This meant Kang Ye-ji would have at most two or three opportunities?
“Ha Eun-rae. Come over here and watch. You said you were curious about the film set.”
That’s when Park Chang-sung called out to me.
‘What a stroke of luck.’
I’d deliberately positioned myself in a corner to avoid disturbing the increasingly tense Director and staff, but Park Chang-sung had given me an opportunity.
He seemed quite impressed by my makeup.
“Ah, thank you so much.”
I spoke softly and sat beside Park Chang-sung, watching the monitor screen.
‘I should even breathe quietly….’
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
Park Chang-sung gave Do Eun-hee the signal.
The action staff positioned above then slowly lowered her down.
As Do Eun-hee, suspended by wire, reached the midpoint of the apartment’s exterior wall, the staff applauded.
“Scene 11, Take 1!”
The monitor was instantly filled with Sun-young’s face as Do Eun-hee performed.
In an instant.
Actually, “instant” was a funny way to describe it.
From the moment the take began, Do Eun-hee had already become Sun-young.
Her face glistened with sweat as she wore an expression of exhaustion.
There was only one reason she was climbing this apartment.
To return to her home—that space filled with memories of her late husband.
“Damn it….”
Sun-young uttered a quiet curse.
Her hands trembled as if all strength had drained from them.
It was truly the performance of someone scaling an apartment’s exterior.
Watching her, goosebumps erupted across my entire body.
No matter how much acting experience I possessed, I could never catch up to Do Eun-hee.
A deity of acting where talent and effort converged.
I felt no urge to envy such a performance.
Instead, I only thought about learning from it as much as possible.
‘So this is what it means to act with every fingertip and every toe.’
Moment by moment, her expressions—ones I could never have predicted from the script’s written words—captured my attention.
Like a sponge, I opened all my senses to absorb every nuance of her performance.
And then.
Something entered Sun-young’s eyes.
It was Hee-jung, waiting for rescue beyond the window from the floor directly below my apartment.
The camera shifted to capture Hee-jung’s expression through the window.
Hee-jung knocked urgently on the window, calling out to Sun-young.

– P-please… save me… save me…

The muffled sound filtering through the window grew louder as it opened.
“Save me!”
At those words, Sun-young’s brow furrowed.
The zombies in the hallway could hear that cry and come closer.
It was the moment Hee-jung reached out her hand.
“Cut!”
The Director called cut.
“Uh… well… hmm…”
I could sense what Park Chang-sung was about to say.
And why he was hesitating.
“Um… Hee-jung. Could you tone down the acting a bit? Right now it’s a little…”
Do Eun-hee furrowed her brow, looking up at the action staff.
There was no helping it.
Filming that relied on wires drained the body of all tension.
The action staff quickly hoisted Do Eun-hee upward.
Park Chang-sung couldn’t help but be mindful of Do Eun-hee’s condition.
“I’m worried she’s coming across as too much of a burden character, and considering she’ll be linked with Sun-young later, I can’t let it get too over-the-top here.”
Park Chang-sung spoke while glancing at Do Eun-hee.
“Let’s do one more take. This take wasn’t bad either.”
Not bad.
That phrase meant it wasn’t good either.
I could see Kang Ye-ji’s expression harden even from a distance.
What a shame.
If she doesn’t nail this scene, she’ll become the scapegoat character in the film.
And the set is merciless.
If Kang Ye-ji fails to deliver her character properly within this single remaining opportunity, Park Chang-sung will boldly cut her out through editing.
“Scene 11, Take 2!”
I realized I had once again thrown myself into this battlefield.
That’s what commercial filmmaking was always like.
Sweat seeped into my palms.

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Kang Ye-ji’s performance was neither good nor bad.
That was the problem.
From Park Chang-sung’s perspective, the Hee-jung character was a card he could either elevate or diminish depending on the actress’s skill.
But this ambiguous middle ground was troublesome.
‘In this case, it’s better to bury it.’
He prepared the next scene while already thinking about the edit, as if he were already in the editing suite.
The next scene was Sun-young meeting Soo-hwan and Soo-hyun, who lived in the neighbor’s house, for the first time.
Soo-hwan rescues Sun-young from the crisis caused by Hee-jung, and Sun-young enters Soo-hwan and Soo-hyun’s apartment.
This scene also included a choreographer who had taken on the zombie role.
Park Chang-sung felt slightly tense watching Kang Ye-ji’s ambiguous performance.
Her acting was even more ambiguous than it had been during the script reading.
‘Perhaps first shoots are just difficult for rookie actors.’
If that were true, then Ha Eun-rae, who was playing Soo-hyun, wouldn’t have it easy either.
No matter how skilled Ha Eun-rae was at acting, performing on a chroma key screen at her first commercial film set would be challenging.
But he couldn’t afford to give Ha Eun-rae many takes either.
He could only hope she would pull it off.
With that thought, Park Chang-sung gave the cue.
“Scene 14, Take 1!”
As the staff member’s voice rang out, Park Chang-sung’s eyes fixed on the monitor.
The protagonist Sun-young, who had barely made it to the 13th Floor—her apartment’s floor.
But hearing Hee-jung’s voice, a zombie comes rushing from the far end of the corridor-style apartment.
And just as the zombie is about to tackle Sun-young.
Bang!
Room 1307.
The door to Sun-young’s neighbor’s apartment opens.
The moment the zombie tumbles out, Soo-hwan grabs Sun-young and pulls her inside.
Following Sun-young’s gaze, the camera sweeps across the apartment interior using handheld technique.
There, holding a frying pan, stands Soo-hyun.
Soo-hyun’s eyes are fixed on empty space.
With those same eyes, Soo-hyun approaches the camera.
Soo-hyun extends a hand slightly and places the frying pan on top of the shoe rack.
As if able to gauge distance without looking, relying only on touch.
Then Soo-hyun looks at the camera—at Sun-young’s face.
As if sensing something, Soo-hyun hesitates briefly before speaking with what seems like relief.
“…You’re alive?”
The moment a faint smile spreads across that face.
The Director and all the staff members watching the monitor became the audience and felt it.
‘Ah. She survived.’
As if they themselves had become Sun-young.
A wave of relief washes over them.
So everyone forgot.
“….”
“….”
“….”
They forgot that Park Chang-sung had never called cut.
“Director, should we… do it again?”
It wasn’t until Do Eun-hee, who had continued acting, lifted her head and spoke that anyone remembered.
“Huh? No. Huh? Oh, cut!”
The legendary Park Chang-sung actually stammered on set.
Watching this unfold, Park Seo-woo let a subtle smile cross his face.

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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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