In This Life I Will Die as an Actress Not a Villainess Chapter 139

A few days later, waiting room on set.

I slowly read through the episode 15 script I’d finally received.

My heart pounded.

The ending still remained uncertain.

But the twist stayed the same.

‘Yu Hayeong. That personality might actually be the main one.’

“Yu Hayeong. That personality might actually be the main one.”

Someone suddenly approached and recited the line I’d been reading.

“Whoa, you scared me!”

It was Shin Jaejun, who played Nam Woohyuk.

Shin Jaejun looked at my startled face with satisfaction, grinning as he slid over to sit beside me.

Then he leaned in close and spoke quietly.

“Lee Seonho’s practically dying over there.”

“Ah, yeah…”

Hearing those words made a deep sigh escape.

Lee Seonho had been completely silent ever since reading the episode 15 script.

He hadn’t cried either.

He just wandered around the set with hollow eyes.

Now that he knew Yu Dayang wasn’t the main personality, he must feel like the sky had split in two.

Shin Jaejun giggled as if finding this amusing somehow.

I looked at him with puzzlement.

“You know what? The two of you aren’t the only ones who’ve gone fully immersed.”

Shin Jaejun said something completely out of left field.

“…?”

“I’ve also gone fully immersed with this supporting male lead role. This supporting male lead that people pay zero attention to compared to other projects.”

“Ah.”

I lost my words, realizing what Shin Jaejun was getting at.

I’d felt it within the script too, but in the writer’s screenplay, Nam Woohyuk’s scenes were even more sparse.

Let alone his emotions or influence.

Plus with the two leads crying their way through filming, every single staff member’s attention had been focused solely on caring for Lee Seonho and me.

That’s how Shin Jaejun had been left circling on the outside even more lately.

I knew this but hadn’t had the bandwidth to look after him.

I looked at Shin Jaejun with guilt.

Shin Jaejun narrowed his long eyes slightly.

“You two are acting like you’re dying out there—do you know how jealous that makes me?”

“…I’m sorry. I’ve been so emotionally drained.”

“I know.”

“Seonho-ssi probably feels the same way as me. We’re both trying to protect each other’s immersion too, and even without saying it, we understand everything…”

“Are you scratching at my insides right now?”

Shin Jaejun furrowed his brow.

Ah, I’m handling this wrong.

Shin Jaejun kept complaining.

“Getting pushed aside left and right—I’m seriously dying here!”

I patted Shin Jaejun’s shoulder.

Then Shin Jaejun smiled bitterly.

“Still, immersion with Nam Woohyuk comes easily so at least acting is comfortable.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been too self-centered.”

At that, Shin Jaejun laughed.

“That’s what every female lead does. Not knowing the supporting male lead’s heart is what gives it flavor, you know.”

Hearing that answer made me burst out laughing.

Only now did I feel how much Shin Jaejun had immersed himself in this role alone.

“Still, we’re filming together all day today.”

I spoke as if consoling Shin Jaejun.

Then Shin Jaejun crossed his arms.

“So what. It’s a scene where I’m suffering inside.”

“Haha…”

“Anyway, the first episode airs soon. How do you feel?”

Shin Jaejun changed the subject.

Hearing that made me sigh.

“I don’t know. It’s strange… I can’t watch it.”

“Can’t watch it?”

“Yeah. I’m too nervous. What if I don’t like my own acting? What if it didn’t turn out as well as I thought…”

Seeing weak words come out of my mouth made Shin Jaejun’s eyes widen.

“Why worry about that? You’ve done well all along.”

I shook my head at those words.

“I don’t know. At first I felt confident, but now I don’t know anything.”

Then Shin Jaejun chuckled lightly.

“Usually when you feel like that, the project does well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. Even the staff are super anxious—because of <Powerful Woman>.”

“Ah, right…”

Honestly, competition with <Powerful Woman> had completely left my mind.

I only cared whether I’d properly expressed the lives of the personalities I’d experienced within the script.

My concern and attention were focused solely on that.

* * *

“Literally. Yu Hayeong might have created you…”

“…”

“Kang Jio doesn’t know yet, does he?”

The filming with Shin Jaejun continued like that throughout the day.

Nam Woohyuk’s pupils shook, just as shocked as I’d been.

I looked quietly at Nam Woohyuk.

I could almost see Shin Jaejun’s deep inner feelings that he’d been grumbling about.

Maybe another man suffering just as much as Kang Jio.

Within the script, I’d never had a chance to properly look into Nam Woohyuk’s heart.

I’d been too shocked myself to notice anything around me.

But now I could somewhat gauge what Nam Woohyuk’s state of mind must have been like back then.

Shin Jaejun laughed hollowly.

“I spent years devoted to treating you. To find this out only now. I should have my medical license revoked. Right?”

Shin Jaejun delivered the line in a voice sunken low.

It didn’t feel like acting at all.

The emotion of being angry at himself came through clearly.

Even though it wasn’t Nam Woohyuk’s fault that Yu Dayang wasn’t the main personality.

“Then… do I have to disappear?”

I asked Nam Woohyuk with hollow eyes, as if unable to believe it.

Then Nam Woohyuk’s eyes immediately reddened.

“I won’t let that happen. Dayang, you…”

Shin Jaejun let a single tear drop.

Seeing that tear made me flinch internally.

Worried about an NG.

The script had no scene of Nam Woohyuk crying.

Shin Jaejun had dropped the tear from being so immersed.

Shin Jaejun spoke with a voice filled with firm resolve.

“Dayang, I won’t let you leave.”

* * *

One week later, at home.

I lay collapsed on the bed, completely drained as if about to pass out.

I spent half the day staring blankly at the ceiling with zero thoughts.

Like a monster had eaten half my soul.

I couldn’t move an inch.

Finally today was the premiere day for both <Say Your Name> and <Powerful Woman>.

Broadcasting would begin at eight-thirty PM.

About thirty minutes remained.

Mom and Dad had also been pacing nervously around the living room all day, caught up in the tension.

What state of mind were our team members in while waiting for the premiere?

Everyone must be exhausted yet anxious like me.

After being so drained, the director made the bold decision not to hold a wrap party on the final day of filming—for the sake of the completely exhausted actors.

It was quite a daring choice.

Instead, we’d decided to have a team retreat to celebrate the finale.

Lee Seonho and I had promised to treat everyone to Korean beef that day if the ratings exceeded 20%.

Fortunately, the director’s decision had brought some peace of mind.

I wanted to stay quiet for a while.

Even today I’d temporarily turned off my phone notifications.

Because contacts had been flooding in from people around me as the premiere approached.

They were all supportive messages, but <Powerful Woman> kept coming up in the content without fail.

I deliberately hadn’t read those messages yet.

I wanted to watch the first broadcast calmly too.

My desire to watch just my own work without other distractions.

I was tired of the noise.

“Sena, the broadcast’s starting!”

* * *

“You bastard. Not Kang Jio—you’re a puppy.”

“Are you going to pretend you don’t remember again this time? It’s not like you actually have dissociative identity disorder.”

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know. I’m confused too.”

“…”

Those fleeting sixty minutes passed…

The clock pointed to 9:30.

The ending scene played, followed by the next episode preview.

The living room sank into silence.

Finally the drama ended.

Mom and Dad on either side of me pulled me into their arms.

“It was so good, Sena. You worked so hard.”

“Our daughter’s a genius. Ugh, why am I tearing up?”

Dad wiped away tears.

I quietly cried while hugging Mom’s and Dad’s arms.

This was the first time I’d cried this much after watching a premiere.

Filming hadn’t even ended yet but my heart already felt empty.

At the same time, I thought of the people who’d lived with me inside the script.

And Lee Seonho, who’d struggled just as much as me.

Plus all the emotions I’d felt countless times while filming this drama…

My heart that still couldn’t reach closure.

It had been painful yet joyful.

That’s when my phone vibrated long.

“…”

It was Lee Seonho.

I bit my lip briefly.

Lately Lee Seonho had been seeking me out often both on and off set.

Like he’d become anxious if I wasn’t nearby, it had turned into a habit.

He’d said he kept having nightmares every night of Yu Dayang leaving.

Hearing that made me realize once again how much Lee Seonho was suffering from the Kang Jio role.

I quietly set down my phone.

If I answered now, we’d both just cry endlessly.

I didn’t want to just cry anymore.

The incoming call ended, and a new vibration sounded.

-Why aren’t you answering?

Lee Seonho had noticed I’d seen the incoming call screen but hadn’t answered.

I wiped away tears and smiled faintly.

-I don’t want to cry.

I sent the reply, and a messenger immediately flew back.

-Then you did well not to answer.

While I pondered what to reply to that, another message arrived.

-Thank you, Sena-ssi. I’ll work harder on the remaining episodes too. Sorry I leaned on you so much.

-Not at all, I leaned on you too.

It was sincere.

From Lee Seonho I’d felt a sense of camaraderie I’d never experienced with any co-star, and I’d found myself unconsciously relying on him.

This kind of deep fellowship with a colleague—it was my first time feeling it.

“Want some food? Eat something, okay?”

Mom swept my hair back from beside me.

I slowly leaned against Mom’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

* * *

And that night.

In my dream, I met Yu Dayang.

Yu Dayang had my face but wore expressions I could never make, with flashy styling, as she stood before me.

Yu Dayang smiled slightly and spoke.

“Why go that far?”

Flustered, I looked at Yu Dayang.

“What…?”

“Why so dramatic?”

“You told me to do well…”

Then Yu Dayang scoffed with a laugh.

“What else would a scared person say?”

I glared at Yu Dayang, finding her irritating.

After all the hardship I went through.

“Drop that fake responsible act.”

“What?”

She really was impossibly bratty.

“You’re doing all that for yourself anyway. Don’t pretend you’re doing it for us.”

Whoa…

My head went blank.

To think I’d been…

That’s when Yu Dayang continued.

“So enjoy it. Don’t drain yourself.”

I scoffed at those words.

“Easy for you to say!!! You were shocked too when you found out you weren’t the main personality.”

“This girl, seriously! Even when I’m looking out for you!”

Yu Dayang also snapped back, getting heated.

Then she scoffed incredulously and spoke.

“Whatever, forget it. Anyway there’s not much left now. Stop dragging yourself down and smile more.”

“…”

“End it with a smile.”

I looked at Yu Dayang silently.

“Smile bright. For me.”

Yu Dayang, having said what she needed to say, leisurely waved her hand and disappeared into the darkness.

“Bratty girl…”

Bzzzz— Bzzzz— Bzzzz—

“Bratty… ugh.”

That’s when the continuous vibration startled me awake.

“Huk, huk…”

My back was soaked with cold sweat.

Dawn had already broken.

I squinted against the brightness and picked up my phone.

“Who’s this at dawn…”

The vibration continued.

The <Say Your Name> group chat was on fire.

-Ha, what the hell are these ratings?

-Seriously ridiculous. Is this a joke?

-Did anyone watch <Powerful Woman>? Was it better than ours?

-Well, it was… entertaining but…

-Traitor bastard.

-ㅠㅠ

Seeing the conversation made me realize the ratings had been tallied, and I quickly accessed the internet.

[<Say Your Name> 7.75% / <Powerful Woman> 10.71%]

Those were the episode 1 ratings for both teams.