In This Life I Will Die as an Actress Not a Villainess Chapter 30

‘It’s Sunim… The Sunim I’d only seen in my dreams after years of practice is right there.’

The director too watched the shots playing through his mind again and again.

‘Too perfect…?’

And more than anyone else… Lee Seokhyun’s heart raced faster than it had during their brief coordination.

Lee Seokhyun looked down at his own hand that had grabbed Han Sena’s arm.

For that single moment, he’d felt like a king truly in love with this woman.

The sensation of touching a spark that blazed hot in an instant.

This kind of chemistry had been rare enough to count on one hand throughout his acting career.

The other staff also stared at Han Sena with held breath.

And all of them simultaneously thought the same thing.

‘If only Han Sena were just a little more famous.’

* * *

“Whew…”

After finishing the performance, my head spun.

I briefly observed the expressions of those before me.

Everyone remained silent.

They were faces that had focused as intently as I had, watching the situation unfold.

Only then did I release the tension and bow at the waist.

“Thank you.”

I’d had quite a fun time.

That was exactly the feeling.

I’d felt this pleasant sensation of being pulled completely into the scene, and after that I’d simply followed the flow.

Looking at Lee Seokhyun beside me, he stared at my face with wide rabbit eyes.

He was probably surprised by how well our breathing had aligned.

I’d gotten completely absorbed too.

When I met his gaze and smiled, Lee Seokhyun finally seemed to regain his senses and extended his hand for a handshake.

I hadn’t expected Lee Seokhyun to respond this far either.

To engage with such passionate physicality, even throwing himself into the movements.

As rumored, he really is someone with ambition.

As I grasped Lee Seokhyun’s hand and shook it lightly, applause poured from the judges’ panel.

Surprised by the louder response than expected, I looked at the judges’ panel with a laugh.

“Wow, you’re really talented.”

“This is good enough to shoot as-is…?”

“No seriously, I could see the pond right before my eyes.”

The steady stream of praise made me feel proud.

As expected, all that preparation hadn’t been for nothing.

Teacher Yoon Youngjae’s face suddenly came to mind.

What would he say if he could see this scene right now?

‘You brat, you put too much force into that line.’

His vivid scolding rang in my ears.

I opened my mouth cheerfully.

It was still too early to let my guard down.

“Then should I show you the next—”

At that moment, the director cut off my words.

“No. We don’t need to see more.”

“Pardon?”

Another unknown judge nodded and continued.

“Asking to see more would be an inconvenience to you. Hahaha.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

“Pardon…?”

Something felt off.

I was definitely receiving praise, but something felt excessive…?

“Sena-ssi, you can leave now.”

“Ah…”

I hadn’t even shown a third of the scene I’d prepared.

Something felt…

Like they were rushing to end the test.

I mulled it over for a moment, trying to understand the situation.

Then I felt like I’d been hit on the head.

Of course, it was possible they genuinely didn’t need to see more because I’d done that well.

But when they gave only praise like this and rushed to finish…

It usually meant failure.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I bowed to the judges’ panel.

It was big data gathered from various audition venues over time.

Not a single person among the production team was showing any sign of dissatisfaction.

However, they weren’t giving me more directing to try different approaches, nor were they asking for character interpretation explanations.

They weren’t asking about my schedule, just giving praise…

In these situations, I had to accept reality.

These people truly recognized me, but they had no intention of casting me.

I bit my lip hard.

It would be a lie to say I felt no disappointment, but I felt relieved.

I’d poured out everything I had.

I already knew the result, but I forced myself to hide my bitter smile.

“Thank you. I really want to do this project. I truly do. Please consider me!”

I bowed once more and exited the audition room.

After greeting them like that, I leaned against the hallway wall where the waiting room was visible.

I could see Seo Jaeyeon touching up her makeup.

Watching that, I bit my lip.

“It’s done… Let’s go.”

I forced myself to find comfort.

* * *

NBS conference room.

After the auditions that had lasted more than half a day.

The production team was exhausted from the casting meeting that followed immediately after the audition without even a break.

Most of them were sprawled in their chairs like laundry hung out to dry.

They couldn’t reach consensus on which of the three final candidates to choose.

“I’m telling you, Seo Jaeyeon is perfect… When virtual casting for sageuks comes up, Seo Jaeyeon always dominates as the female lead.”

One assistant writer with considerable experience spoke in an exhausted tone.

“Right. Plus her nickname is ‘eldest daughter-in-law.’ She’s graceful, tall—what more could you want?”

A staff member sitting nearby agreed with the assistant writer.

Then the assistant director sitting in front shot back immediately.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Virtual casting is no match for someone with actual experience. Look at Lee Nara. She’s already done two sageuk projects. Let’s go the safe route.”

At that, the assistant writer sighed and pressed her brow.

The writer and director had been maintaining silence for some time already.

Both felt conflicted.

Just then, the door opened and Cheon Insu walked in.

The staff quickly sat up straight.

“Why isn’t anyone talking about Han Sena?”

He’d been listening to the staff’s discussion from outside the door before entering.

At that moment, the conference room fell silent as if cold water had been thrown over it.

“Well…”

“She was good.”

At the director’s question, CP Kang Jeonghwan cleared his throat and chose his words carefully before answering.

“Honestly, judging purely by acting, Han Sena was the best.”

“Then why is she off the table?”

“Considering name value and fandom size, we concluded she doesn’t match up to the other two.”

At those words, the director answered decisively.

“Then notify her of the rejection quickly. Don’t torture her with false hope. When she left earlier, she already knew she’d been cut.”

“Pardon?”

Cheon Insu recalled Han Sena’s face as she’d given her final greeting.

Those were the eyes of someone who’d poured out everything and knew exactly how it would end.

That had been bothering him.

The CP didn’t back down.

“Director. Even so, we need to wait until the first shoot with either Lee Nara or Seo Jaeyeon to be certain. Since they’re both top-tier, they might suddenly decide to do another project.”

Another staff member also nodded.

“We can’t know what might happen, so keeping her as a backup option gives us some breathing room…”

The director cut off their words with a slightly irritated voice.

“If you’re not going to cast her anyway, don’t drag it out. It’s a busy season with lots of good scripts floating around—notify her quickly so she can prepare for other projects!”

Only then did everyone fall silent.

Writer Nam Jihye, who’d been listening quietly, spoke as if trying to lighten the mood.

“Wow, Director. You must have really liked Han Sena-ssi. Her acting was good.”

Cheon Insu glanced at Writer Nam Jihye.

“Since you’ve shown interest in her, Director, hopefully we can work together on a suitable project later.”

At that, the director nodded and revealed the backstory.

“I went to a late-night screening recently, and she was there. Looked like she’d come to prepare for our project—she was watching <Annals of King Yeonsan>. Taking so many notes, so diligently.”

“Oh really? What a coincidence.”

“Right? So let’s not drain someone who works this hard—let her move on quickly to another project.”

At those words, the staff responded in unison.

* * *

“So… you didn’t make it.”

Minyeong unnie spoke while gauging my reaction.

We’d promised that if I got cut, I wouldn’t complain and would look for other projects.

But she knew too well how hard I’d prepared for this.

It must have been disappointing for her too.

Seeing unnie apologizing made me feel sorry as well.

Not only me, but unnie had worked hard supporting me too.

I grasped unnie’s hand.

“It’s disappointing, right?”

At my words, Minyeong unnie forced a smile.

“You felt you did well yourself. There’ll be other good news, and you’ll definitely book other auditions.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Neither of us brought up the lingering regrets.

Even though it ended up like this…

It didn’t feel as desperate as before I’d turned back time.

“It’s okay, unnie. Age is power. I’m still so young.”

“Right, exactly.”

I truly believed that.

I’d been loved far more as Yoo Ji-an than in my previous life, and I had many more options ahead.

If I steadily built my filmography with other projects, I believed my draw power would eventually overcome this obstacle.

Then I wouldn’t get cut for factors other than acting ability.

But still…

One final question kept unsettling my mind.

‘Would I have been cut even if my acting had been overwhelming?’

Maybe my acting hadn’t been enough.

Not in the realm of good or bad.

But if I’d shown acting so overwhelming it made popularity and experience irrelevant.

If I’d done that, wouldn’t I have been chosen?

I released unnie’s hand.

As if possessed, I gathered my things scattered around the office.

“Unnie, I need to go to the practice room.”

“Huh? Practice room? What are you going to practice? Should I gather some other scripts for you?”

Unnie looked at me with a confused expression.

“It’s fine.”

“Then what are you going to the practice room for?”

Without answering unnie’s question, I slung my bag over my shoulder.

As I opened the door and left the office, I could feel unnie’s gaze boring into my back.

* * *

And so, back to the practice room.

I changed into the official’s robe again and stood in the center.

Silence flowed through the practice room.

Standing at the spot marked with tape in a T-shape, I stared directly into my eyes in the mirror.

I’d been cut this time, but…

I resolved to develop overwhelming acting ability.

I’d come here to review the audition performance like making an error notebook.

The camera was already rolling.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot drink it. Getting drunk on strong liquor is not the way of a gentleman.”

Like on audition day, I felt pulled into the scene, into the lines.

Starting from the first line as Sunim, I delivered the audition lines and extended into the next scene, then the scene after that.

Whenever my concentration faltered, I briefly stopped the camera and slapped both cheeks hard.

Without drinking water, without moving from that spot…

After what must have been hours.

“Your Majesty! Your dragon robe is completely…”

Suddenly, while delivering lines, I felt the practice room lights were too bright.

Looking up at the ceiling, the light was blinding.

“Huh…?”

It wasn’t the ceiling.

A brilliant light burst forth from the script I’d placed on the floor.

Just like that day.

My head suddenly spun.

At that moment, a white light pouring down like snow filled the practice room as if about to swallow my body.

My eyes closed.