In This Life I Will Die as an Actress Not a Villainess Chapter 3

The evening returned once more.

This time I sat dazed in my desk chair, lost in thought.

‘Just staying still won’t work.’

I gulped down some water in frustration.

In this situation, I need to somehow escape and…

Find something?

I looked up at the office clock.

It was already past 6:30.

My heart began to race with anxiety.

If I couldn’t discover Yoo Ji-an’s weakness, I’d remain trapped forever in this repeating day.

“Yoo Ji-an’s weakness… I just need to find it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and flipped through the script in my mind.

Where would Yoo Ji-an be right now?

Where and how should I look for Yoo Ji-an’s weakness?

Wait.

What was the decisive trigger that made Yoo Ji-an decide to hit Shin Sera with her car?

As if possessed, I rose from my seat and left the office.

I walked slowly down the corridor and caught the elevator.

‘What if I meet Yoo Ji-an before getting hit by the car?’

Ding—

The elevator arrived and the doors opened.

I reached out and pressed the button for the building’s top floor.

I remembered the script’s content.

Right now, Yoo Ji-an would be receiving her final breakup notice in Cha Minho’s office.

That breakup notice was the decisive trigger that led to hitting Shin Sera with the car.

* * *

And so I arrived at the top of the building.

I made my way toward the office at the end of the corridor.

The door was slightly ajar.

Through the gap, I could hear conversation.

“Shin Sera. You know her well…”

Hearing a woman’s voice call my name, I instinctively recognized it as Yoo Ji-an.

“Love affairs are fleeting, you know that. If you really want it, go ahead and try—until you get sick of it. Two business partners should be able to understand that much.”

Listening to Yoo Ji-an’s nonchalant, monotone words brought back vivid memories of when I’d played that role.

Yoo Ji-an’s voice had a slightly higher pitch than mine had been during the performance.

Then Cha Minho shot back at Yoo Ji-an’s words.

“It’s not fleeting. I’m going to break off this marriage.”

Cha Minho’s voice was actually colder than Yoo Ji-an’s.

Yoo Ji-an let out a scornful laugh.

“You’re going to put a price tag of tens of billions, hundreds of billions on this love affair? Our marriage isn’t just our marriage, is it? It’s a family promise. A corporate agreement.”

Seeing Yoo Ji-an’s aggressive speaking manner, I thought—yes, that’s Yoo Ji-an all right.

The destructive edge I’d performed as Yoo Ji-an long ago seemed to come back to life.

“I know. I know better than you do.”

After Cha Minho’s next response, a brief silence fell.

The air felt suffocating.

I covered my mouth, worried my breathing might leak into the room.

But then…

Yoo Ji-an’s next words and actions left me flustered.

“Why not me?”

Yoo Ji-an’s voice trembled.

“Just stop it.”

Cha Minho sounded utterly exhausted and fed up.

“You have so much already, and me on top of that. Do you need to get your hands on people’s hearts too to be satisfied?”

Soon I heard Cha Minho’s footsteps approaching the door.

I quickly hid in the small corner beside the doorway.

Cha Minho walked away down the distant corridor.

Yoo Ji-an didn’t come out of the office.

I peered into the room through the gap in the door.

Yoo Ji-an’s face, reflected faintly in the window as she stood with her back to the door, looked eerily unfamiliar.

Yoo Ji-an just stood there staring at the floor.

With an unbearably sad expression, not even shedding tears.

I couldn’t take my eyes off that Yoo Ji-an.

Something’s wrong.

The current Yoo Ji-an looked different from the performance I’d given.

I stared at Yoo Ji-an’s back for a long time.

* * *

Back in the empty office once again, I tapped the tip of my pen against a blank sheet of paper.

The clock hands already pointed to 7:25.

If another five minutes passed like this, would I return to the beginning again?

“Yoo Ji-an’s weakness…”

I wrote ‘Cha Minho’ on the blank page.

Because he was the only thing she’d ever truly wanted in her life, and the only thing she’d never been able to obtain.

But nothing happened.

I let out a deep sigh and leaned back in my chair.

For some reason, the image of Yoo Ji-an I’d seen through the door gap kept haunting me.

Why was she standing like that?

Was Yoo Ji-an the type to be consumed by sadness?

I’d always expressed Yoo Ji-an’s emotions explosively.

Like an immature child throwing a tantrum.

I’d been confident I knew Yoo Ji-an better than anyone in the world.

But maybe I’d been wrong…

Everything seemed to be getting more and more tangled.

Should I really go to ‘that place’?

What if that’s the only place where I can learn Yoo Ji-an’s weakness?

But if I get hit by the car as in the original script, what happens then?

How would I know whether I’d really die or not…?

My heart beat erratically.

Then the office clock struck 7:30, and once again golden text flashed across the paper.

[Mission Failed.]

And then blackness again.

“Sera-ssi!”

The moment I opened my eyes, I turned on the office monitor.

“Sera-ssi, what are you doing?”

Other people’s words didn’t register in my ears.

I immediately accessed an airline website.

Mission or whatever—my survival is what matters.

I’ll fly overseas.

“Sera-ssi!”

Ignoring the manager’s angry voice behind me, I bolted from the office.

* * *

Tick, tick.

7:24.

7:25.

7:26.

The view of the Pacific from the plane headed to Cebu didn’t register in my eyes at all.

All I could see was the time.

Why am I so anxious?

But deep down, I knew the reason.

Perhaps…

Because I knew that running away wouldn’t change anything.

[Mission Failed.]

Before I could even open my eyes and assess the situation, I heard that tiresome voice.

“Sera-ssi. Sera-ssi!”

Hearing the employee’s voice signaling yet another restart, I made my decision.

The original script’s location where Yoo Ji-an hits Shin Sera with her car.

I had to go there.

I had to see with my own eyes what Yoo Ji-an’s weakness really was.

* * *

A dark road shrouded in thick fog.

Hidden behind a roadside tree, I surveyed the street.

Soon a black SUV appeared from somewhere and stopped on the opposite side.

She even covered the license plate—vicious woman…

Scenes from the drama I’d forgotten for so long came flooding back, reminding me again of Yoo Ji-an’s atrocities.

From Shin Sera’s perspective, Yoo Ji-an seemed like pure madness itself.

But…

‘She’s also me, in a way.’

I could almost see Yoo Ji-an’s figure hidden in the fog.

Gripping the steering wheel like a predator stalking prey, yet with trembling hands waiting for Shin Sera.

Her desperate action to possess the man she loved was nothing if not blind.

Cold air brushed against both my cheeks.

Before I knew it, the time was 6:59.

I’d decided not to hesitate.

But I couldn’t help my hands and legs from shaking like aspen leaves.

The blowing wind awakened the sensation that this was truly reality, not a dream.

“Just once… I just have to endure it once.”

Once I complete this damn mission or whatever it is, I’ll be able to escape from the script.

I clenched my jaw and stared straight at Yoo Ji-an’s car, taking deep breaths.

I slowly took my first step.

Walking across the crosswalk, one step, two steps…

When I reached about halfway, a terrifying roar burst from Yoo Ji-an’s car engine.

In an instant, the black car charged toward me.

“Zero to sixty performance—not bad…”

For such an old car.

The absurd thought occurred to me that if I had to perform getting hit by a car later, I’d be more confident than anyone at pulling it off.

Was this what they meant about people becoming calm in the face of death?

Thud, screech—crash…

My body flew through the air, cutting across space.

How long did I stare at that pitch-black night sky before my body landed far from the car?

Pain flooded through me as bones and muscles shattered and tore into thousands of pieces.

Even more horrifying was that I didn’t lose consciousness.

As my vision gradually blurred, I heard the sound of high heels approaching.

Using what little strength remained, I turned my head to see Yoo Ji-an.

Yoo Ji-an’s face, though blurry, somehow resembled mine.

With her doll-like pretty features and glossy black hair radiating a cold aura, her eyes were as dark as her hair color.

But…

‘…?’

Unlike when I’d performed the role, Yoo Ji-an wore a different expression.

Yoo Ji-an staggered over and collapsed as if falling before me.

Then for a long while, she poured out tears.

“You’re the one—you ruined everything. Once you’re gone, everything will go back to normal.”

Consumed by resentment, Yoo Ji-an burst out with tears, words, and fury all at once.

The image was completely different from the Yoo Ji-an I’d imagined.

“I have nothing compared to you. I have no one! Why do you have to take away even the last thing I have left?”

Yoo Ji-an’s voice—those childishly greedy words—somehow sounded painful to hear.

Finally, Yoo Ji-an looked at my eyes, then returned to her car on legs trembling even more than when I’d crossed the street.

Yoo Ji-an sat in the driver’s seat and looked at the side mirror.

Staring at her own reflection, Yoo Ji-an cried in a way I’d never seen before.

She cried and cried.

Her sobbing, which wouldn’t leave my ears, was mixed with self-loathing, despair, resentment, and rage.

Twenty years ago, I’d thought the essence of Yoo Ji-an’s emotions was rage.

That had been my mistake.

I finally realized.

‘You… you were crying there.’

Yoo Ji-an’s sobbing gradually faded from my ears.

I barely managed to turn my head to look at the black night sky.

My eyes slowly closed.

Then, from somewhere, a blinding light poured out and surrounded everything.

* * *

My body bounced upward as if springing back, and I felt my feet touch the ground.

As the light slowly faded, a new space came into view.

Several people sat facing me, staring.

‘Where is this…’

Then someone looking at me intently caught my eye.

“Writer Lee Si-young?”

My heart sank.

Why was the writer who’d passed away years ago here?

The writer’s face, which I hadn’t seen in so long, had fewer wrinkles.

Only then did the banner on the wall catch my eye.

「<Cinderella in Flat Shoes> Actress Audition」

The moment I saw the banner, I couldn’t breathe.

Could it be—is this…

The strangely familiar feeling lent strength to my intuition.

The faces of the people seated looked familiar.

They were the main staff from when we filmed Flat Shoes—the PD, the writer, and others.

“Um… excuse me, what year is this?”

I barely managed to speak.

Then the PD answered with a slight smile.

“Wow, were you that immersed in the role?”

My head went blank.

If my memory serves me right, I’d bet anything this place was the year 2012.

This was the audition site for my debut work, <Flat Shoes>.