In This Life I Will Die as an Actress Not a Villainess Chapter 207

[<Deadline> Wins Haeundae International OTT Film Award, CG Award, and Makeup Award]

[Haeundae International’s Newly Created OTT Category! <Deadline> Takes the Win]

[<Deadline> Han Sena Nominated for Hwangryong Film Festival Best Actress Award!]

[Han Sena, Will She Claim the Hwangryong Film Festival Best Actress Award with an OTT Film?]

[Do Changhyeon Nominated Alongside Han Sena for Hwangryong Film Festival Best New Actor!]

[Following Haeundae International, Hwangryong Film Festival Takes Bold, Unbiased Stance! Official <Deadline> Team Invitation… Winds of Change Sweep Korean Film Industry]

While <Deadline>’s success at Haeundae International drew attention, the Hwangryong Film Festival soon revealed its award nominee lineup.

Surprisingly, both Do Changhyeon and I had our names on the nominee list.

I felt dazed staring at the articles.

Me, at the Hwangryong Film Festival?

I’d never imagined I’d have any connection to Hwangryong in either my past life or this one.

The Hwangryong Film Festival—counted among Korea’s most traditional and prestigious award ceremonies—had always carried a somewhat conservative image.

Contrary to what I’d always thought, Hwangryong had not only officially invited an OTT film, but also clearly stated they’d conduct fair judging.

My heart wouldn’t settle as I read through dozens of article headlines.

Before I knew it, I’d become part of a major shift in Korean cinema.

The reality that I’d been given a second chance at life and was now driving external change beyond just myself felt unbelievable.

Did I even deserve to be someone capable of this?

I set down my phone for a moment and took a sip of coffee while gazing out the living room terrace window.

The coffee I’d just brewed was warm.

After making a conscious effort to calm my mind, I fiddled with my coffee cup a bit before setting it down on the side table.

On the side table sat the script Director Jin Changju had given me.

I’d stayed up all night after arriving in Seoul, reading it over and over.

“This is insane…”

I muttered quietly.

Actually, the time it took to read straight through the script wasn’t long at all.

Maybe thirty minutes?

In terms of how it felt, not even ten minutes.

That’s how entertaining it was.

Insanely so.

The story followed a single detective from the violent crimes unit pursuing a villain who ruled the underworld with connections to everything—drugs, murder, and political/business scandals.

The content was simple and universal enough to be found anywhere in the world—America, Korea, Hong Kong.

But this villain.

The antagonist character I’d be playing was utterly captivating.

To the point where I’d already started running lines alone after reading the script endlessly…

Beyond captivating—she was mesmerizing.

The name of this character, a queen of a corrupted world, was Han Jina.

I wondered if the director had changed the name with me in mind.

Han Jina was a supremely arrogant third-generation chaebol heir and a highly intelligent sociopath.

She could kill without batting an eye, and had the ability to put on convincing performances as a completely different, virtuous citizen when facing prosecution.

Drug-addicted with a promiscuous lifestyle, even displaying narcissistic tendencies.

The fascinating part was that aside from when she deliberately lied, Han Jina approached everything with complete sincerity despite her extreme mood swings.

On the very day she commits murder, Han Jina watches TV and sees struggling neighbors in need—she sheds genuine tears and transfers hundreds of millions of won to them.

These countless contradictory elements made Han Jina’s character different from any existing villain.

I wanted to embody these insane aspects with my body, my hands, my eyes, my lips.

A character who collides head-on with the protagonist until the very end, delivering action, thrills, and suspense with refreshing intensity.

If it’s a villain like this…

I lifted my head from the script and looked back out at the terrace scenery.

The Han River’s rippling surface sparkled under the setting sun.

I recalled those agonizing days as a villain in my past life.

The villains I’d played had always been nothing but reflectors to make the protagonist shine.

Those roles always had limits to their expressive range, existing for only one reason.

For the protagonist’s sake.

I’d rarely seen narratives where the villain was the protagonist, or where the villain stood as the protagonist’s equal.

Films that occasionally attempted this were quietly buried due to content issues, character issues, and many other problems.

But right now, Han Jina was the perfect protagonist.

She lives in a lawless world, she plants fury in people’s hearts, she delivers both entertainment and catharsis—and she stands at the story’s center.

Unlike my past life, I felt confident that playing Han Jina wouldn’t typecast my image.

I picked up my phone again.

I’d been planning to tell Minyeong unnie that I’d chosen my next project.

* * *

A few days later, at Director Jin Changju’s office after receiving his call.

When I opened the door, someone I’d never expected to see sat on the sofa, conversing with the director and letting out his characteristic hearty laughter.

Seeing that face made me quickly bow deeply at the waist.

“Hello, sunbaenim!”

“Oh, Sena-ssi’s here?”

The director raised his hand to greet me.

The person who’d received my greeting stood up with an awkward smile.

He immediately extended his hand for a handshake.

“What’s this? Sena-ssi, did you serve in the military?”

I carefully grasped that hand.

The owner of those thick, rough hands was none other than Im Hyangmin.

Im Hyangmin had steadily built his reputation starting from theater before transitioning to film, where he’d become the main force behind three or four ten-million viewer blockbusters.

With a brilliant filmography yet always maintaining a down-to-earth lifestyle and demeanor, he projected a friendly image—a true national actor.

Behind me, the director burst into hearty laughter seeing how rigid I’d become.

Then he pulled out a water bottle from the small refrigerator near the chairs and handed it to me.

“Sit down, sit down.”

I took the water and immediately gulped down a mouthful.

While doing so, I sneaked glances at Im Hyangmin’s face—a bit younger than when I’d seen him on screen in my past life, looking to be in his mid-to-late forties.

As I closed the cap and set down the water, Im Hyangmin looked at me with a slightly taken-aback expression.

“Sena-ssi, I didn’t think you’d be intimidated by senior actors. You seem pretty polite compared to how you come across.”

“Pardon?”

The director was also observing me closely, different from when we’d met at Haeundae International.

I felt flustered by both their gazes and this incomprehensible atmosphere.

Soon Im Hyangmin withdrew his gaze and burst into a hearty chuckle before speaking to the director.

“Director, I heard all the other male actors turned this down?”

Hearing that made my eyes widen in shock.

The director wore an expression of wounded pride as he laughed along.

“Man. Why are all your colleagues like that? They were begging to do even bit parts when it suited them, seriously. Traitors.”

“They’re probably getting old. Having to run, roll around, fly through the air—that’s tough work.”

“God…”

Hearing that conversation made my head spin.

Right, I’d never seen this project in my past life either.

There must have been a reason it never got made.

“Plus this is 100% a character-driven piece. That adds pressure for everyone.”

At Im Hyangmin’s words, the director nodded knowingly.

I also nodded internally at that accurate analysis.

A film betting on extraordinary characters with an unremarkable story.

Any actor who read the script would feel that way.

“At least I came on board because you’re doing it with Sena-ssi. You know that, right?”

Im Hyangmin crossed his arms and struck a rather high-and-mighty pose toward the director.

That gesture truly conveyed years of industry experience and seniority all at once.

“Yes yes, thank you so much.”

“So here’s the thing…”

Was Im Hyangmin really about to take an even higher stance and make demands of the director? I watched…

Suddenly Im Hyangmin turned his head to look at me.

Im Hyangmin’s deep brown eyes were clear and vivid.

I felt slightly overwhelmed by the indescribable presence and aura flowing from those eyes.

“This kid’s too stiff.”

“…”

Im Hyangmin kept his gaze fixed on me while gesturing toward the director.

“Sena-ssi, this director writes scripts so terribly that he keeps ten writers under him at a time.”

“…Pardon?”

My eyes darted around at the bewildering diss, while the director beside me burst into laughter.

“His on-set direction is a total mess too. He leaves everything to the actors. You don’t know about his bad reputation yet?”

“……”

What should I say in response?

Though this was the first I’d heard of it.

“This person isn’t a director, he’s a boss. He knows how to work people. Hire good employees, and when they produce results, he takes all the credit. He’s that kind of smart boss.”

“Ah…”

The director’s expression showed no sign of offense as he listened.

“What I’m saying is.”

Im Hyangmin paused briefly to emphasize his next words.

“We both have to handle everything ourselves, that’s what I’m saying.”

“…”

“If you stay this uptight the whole time we’re shooting, we won’t be able to make this film. Okay?”

Im Hyangmin spoke in a tone like explaining things step-by-step to a child.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Hmm…”

Even my current answer didn’t seem to satisfy him.

This won’t do.

I sensed a change in atmosphere was needed.

“Sunbaenim, I don’t really get intimidated in front of cameras.”

“Then from now on, use casual speech with me.”

Im Hyangmin spoke with a subtly pressuring tone.

Was acting required already?

I hid my nervousness and answered.

“Okay, got it.”

Im Hyangmin’s brown eyes continued observing me.

Those eyes saw right through me as I pretended not to be nervous.

That’s when the director jumped into the slightly tense atmosphere.

“Ah, so here’s the thing. I’m still pondering the first scene where you two meet.”

At the director’s words, I quickly recalled the first meeting scene between Han Jina and Lee Donggyo from the script.

In the story, after Lee Donggyo stakes everything on tracking her down over a long period, he finally confronts Han Jina.

“I need some ideas for that part. It still feels a bit clichéd.”

“I thought the same.”

Im Hyangmin responded while leaning back against the sofa.

But then the director threw out a shocking suggestion.

“Want to try improvising together? Bounce ideas around, what do you think?”

Right now? Here?

Wait, was this why he called me today?

This director’s working style was completely…

I broke into a cold sweat at this flow I couldn’t predict even one second ahead.

I’d been tense the whole time, making me feel slightly warm from the rising heat.

Im Hyangmin casually leaned forward from the sofa again and looked at me.

He seemed familiar with this situation—or perhaps he’d been waiting for it.

“Sena-ssi, you’re a bit flustered, right?”

“Ah, I’m fi… I’m fine.”

“Let’s give it a shot. Stop being so tense.”

I felt a subtle pressure continuously emanating from his tone telling me to stop being nervous.

It seemed like he was trying to draw out the image and gestures of Han Jina that he’d wanted.

I made a conscious effort to slow my breathing.

Right, so what?

I’d gone to hundreds of auditions by now.

Whatever, I’ll just think of this as a five-star difficulty audition.

I looked at the director and asked.

“Should we try some freestyle acting?”

At that, the director smiled brightly.

“Ooh, I’m looking forward to this. Don’t feel pressured though. This isn’t an evaluation. You know that, right?”

I suppressed an inward laugh at those words.

Liar.

Then I slowly crossed my legs.

This time I leaned back against the sofa.

But calming my breathing was brief—inside, my heart started racing faster and faster.

In the silent office, I could only hear my own heartbeat.

Feeling that pulse down to my core, I looked straight at Im Hyangmin.

Im Hyangmin immediately leaned forward, bracing one hand on the table as he came closer.

Then he fired off an improvised line first.

“Finally getting to see that disgustingly expensive face.”

I looked at that face and smiled sweetly.

The moment I heard the line, my thoughts disappeared and my mind went black.

I lifted myself off the sofa.

Before any judgment or calculation could occur, my hand moved toward the water bottle I’d set down earlier.

I opened the cap and without hesitation brought it over Im Hyangmin’s head, tilting it.

The water filling the bottle poured down over Im Hyangmin’s face and spilled onto the table and floor.

Im Hyangmin’s face froze after being drenched in an instant.

I opened my mouth too.

“What are you trying to pull with this stunt? Pretty fearless of you.”

The line I was innocently delivering felt strangely perfect for this situation.

Im Hyangmin stared at me without moving a muscle.

I extended my index finger to lift Im Hyangmin’s chin.

Water was dripping from Im Hyangmin’s chin.

“But now that I’ve gotten you all wet, you look kind of sexy. Want to quit this stupid chase and be my second instead?”