In This Life I Will Die as an Actress Not a Villainess Chapter 38

Inside a small theater in Daehak-ro.

The teacher walked through the empty seats with a bewildered expression.

“When did you even book this place?”

“The moment I thought of it… this was the only place with an opening today!”

I’d set up a tripod below the stage and placed a camera on top.

That’s when the teacher climbed onto the stage.

“Good grief…”

I grinned up at him.

“Should we practice first?”

“Such nerve.”

The teacher gave me a look that said “oh boy.”

I sat down facing him.

Soon silence began to flow, and the atmosphere shifted.

The teacher’s gaze settled with calm.

I read it as permission to begin whenever I was ready.

The moment I steadied my breathing and slowly opened my mouth, everything about Sunim came flooding back.

“Speak honestly to His Majesty. He is different from the Queen Dowager, so if you truly repent, surely he will forgive and embrace you.”

The refined lines of her face, the goodness in her eyes, the thin lips that always made the right judgments, even the men’s official robes that suited her so well.

Sunim’s voice, her loyalty, the affection she’d shown me, that warmth.

All of it came rushing back at once.

It felt like I was meeting Sunim again.

“You wavered because of that too, didn’t you?”

The teacher—no, Sangseon’s—eyes watching me trembled.

The short film to deliver to the production company…

If I had to choose the single most important scene to include, it was undoubtedly “that day.”

The day the king learned that Sangseon was a spy.

Sangseon’s importance that didn’t exist in the script, Sunim’s boiling emotions, and though absent from this scene, the relationship between them and the king that still shone through, the king’s character.

This was the section that condensed everything.

“You’ve been deceiving His Majesty and me all this time! Say something!”

I no longer saw the teacher before my eyes.

Only Sunim’s fury descended into my body.

But Sangseon’s response didn’t follow.

“…You.”

At the teacher’s words as he stopped acting, my mind snapped back to attention.

“Yes?”

Had something gone… wrong?

“You.”

The teacher paused deliberately.

“What did you do for a week?”

“…Pardon?”

“One week. It’s only been a week since I last saw you when you said you were preparing for the audition. How did you improve this much in that time?”

The unexpected words threw my thought process into confusion.

What should I say in response?

“Ahaha. I’m immersing myself much better now compared to back then, right?”

I forced out a laugh.

“It’s not simply a matter of immersion. Right now, from your fingertips to your toes, every single gaze—everything is different, like you’re a completely different person from a week ago.”

The teacher’s expression wouldn’t soften.

Cold sweat gradually trickled down my back.

“Must be all the preparation and practice paying off! Just like you taught me, Teacher.”

I scratched the back of my head as I spoke.

“You know it yourself, don’t you? That you’ve… improved far too much.”

“Ah…”

“Which makes your reason for wanting to film this short film even more understandable.”

The teacher nodded to himself in the silence.

Is that how the conversation’s going?

“Now I fully understand your intentions and your efforts. I’ll approach this with sincerity and give it my all too.”

Determination filled the teacher’s eyes.

“Let’s start over.”

* * *

Inside the dim performance hall.

Bathed in a small spotlight, Han Sena delivered her lines again.

“Speak honestly to His Majesty.”

And in that moment, Yoon Youngjae instinctively felt it.

The kid before him was truly special.

A different breed of actor.

Whether genius or an unparalleled hard worker.

He had no way of knowing.

Though they say effort is also a talent, so perhaps this kid really was a genius.

The way she was now felt distinctly different from when she’d focused on men’s clothing while preparing for the audition—now it was “the feeling of living completely as a man, as a subject.”

Yoon Youngjae began to feel conviction about the short film he’d been half-skeptical about.

Conviction that this child would break through the real-world barriers of casting and auditions.

And conviction that she would become Sunim.

* * *

The next day, at a beef intestine restaurant in front of NBS.

Palace Flower director Kang Jeonghwan sat there gripping a soju glass in one hand, fuming.

His colleagues sitting around the table grabbed Kang Jeonghwan’s glass away from him.

“Hey, hey. Is this the first or second time something like this has happened in this industry?”

Despite his colleagues’ restraint, the already tipsy Kang Jeonghwan growled.

“That consultant is seriously driving me crazy. Even without those actresses playing hardball, isn’t it obvious who we’ll have to cast to match the tier?”

A colleague sitting beside him also downed a shot of soju.

“Right… we’re going with name recognition anyway. You’re right, Director Kang.”

“Everyone knows how things work in this business. Now that he’s become bureau chief, he should be helping us get into production faster instead of dragging his feet, you know?”

Ding—

Just then, an email notification chimed on Kang Jeonghwan’s phone.

Kang Jeonghwan opened his eyes into slits and picked up his phone.

<From Actress Han Sena.>

“…?”

“Why, who is it?”

His colleague stuck his face toward Kang Jeonghwan’s phone.

“Han Sena? Is she trying to beg for a supporting role or something?”

Opening the email, Kang Jeonghwan found a video file and frowned.

“What the hell is this supposed to be…”

Playing the roughly opened video, some older male actor and Han Sena were performing something together.

“What are they even saying…”

Inside the noisy intestine restaurant, he could barely hear anything.

Kang Jeonghwan’s expression darkened.

“What kind of situation is this supposed to be.”

Another colleague who’d been distracted grabbed Kang Jeonghwan’s phone.

“Why, what is it? Some aspiring PD?”

“No need to watch it.”

Kang Jeonghwan pocketed his phone and downed the remaining soju.

“Between the bureau chief and this actress, they’re both tag-teaming to suck the life out of someone…”

After the drinking session ended, Kang Jeonghwan’s home.

Kang Jeonghwan threw himself onto his bed and closed his eyes.

After only a brief moment, he opened them again.

“Seriously annoying…”

Kang Jeonghwan opened the email from Han Sena once more.

Perhaps it was because of Han Sena’s overwhelming presence he’d witnessed at the audition.

This video was at least enough to pique Kang Jeonghwan’s curiosity.

“Do you truly intend to betray His Majesty?”

“Betrayal? That’s not in the script.”

“Speak, Sangseon!”

Kang Jeonghwan’s brow furrowed.

“What’s with Sangseon? There’s no such person in Palace Flower…”

Before Kang Jeonghwan’s muttering could finish, Han Sena’s emotions began building.

“You’ve been deceiving His Majesty and me all this time! Say something!”

“…Starting as the Queen Dowager’s spy is true.”

The elderly male actor on screen began confessing his sins.

“Then was all your devotion to His Majesty until now false? Every caring moment—all of it?”

“At first, yes. But…”

Kang Jeonghwan watching the video began quietly falling into it.

“Do you know what my dream is?”

* * *

The next morning.

“Do you know what my dream is?”

“This is incredible.”

Palace Flower writer Nam Jihye sat there with one eyebrow raised, staring intently at the video.

The moment she’d started the video, Nam Jihye had felt like she’d been struck on the back of the head.

“They inserted a character that wasn’t even in the script?”

To her, a veteran writer, this felt like a clear challenge.

Nam Jihye reached out to close the video, then stopped her hand mid-motion.

“…I dared to judge that His Majesty, with his weak nature since childhood, lacked the strength for this.”

Yoon Youngjae’s heartfelt lines pierced her ears.

“Why on earth is this actor…”

From Nam Jihye’s perspective, Yoon Youngjae was a name impossible not to know if you followed theater.

Though he rarely showed his face in commercial films, he was a veteran actor with virtually no divided opinions in the theater world—someone you could trust and watch.

“…However weak it may be, I came to regret it watching His Majesty’s upright sincerity that never treats anything or anyone carelessly.”

How exactly had this cable drama super rookie managed to rope in this veteran actor?

And why had this notoriously upright actor agreed to participate in this video?

“Then speak honestly to His Majesty. He is different from the Queen Dowager, so if you truly repent, surely…”

Nam Jihye stared intently at Han Sena in the video.

She was no ordinary talent.

Even better than at the audition, she resembled the Sunim Nam Jihye had imagined.

No—she almost looked like Sunim had gained new vitality.

After the video ended, Nam Jihye leaned back deeply in her chair.

“What are you?”

An incomprehensible video.

She could just ignore it, but the fact that Yoon Youngjae had participated gave it value worth watching—that’s what confused Nam Jihye.

And then there was Sangseon’s existence.

“He’s definitely a character that could have existed.”

Strangely enough, because of this video, several scenes in the script began naturally fitting together.

Nam Jihye had been arguing with Kang Jeonghwan about the ending anyway.

“What should I call this? Could this video provide some clue?”

The veteran actor’s deep performance amplified the dialogue’s persuasiveness, and the scene where Sangseon and the female lead revealed their inner feelings sparked much imagination for the writer.

Nam Jihye touched her temples.

“She wouldn’t have sent this video just asking to reflect the setup in the work.”

No matter how you looked at it, too much effort had gone into it to be simply requesting a re-audition.

Nam Jihye, who’d been lost in thought for a moment, let out a chuckle.

“Does she want both?”

Nam Jihye pulled out her cell phone.

It seemed she’d need to hold another audition.

If only to satisfy this curiosity.

* * *

The next day, inside the office.

Minyeong unnie hung up a call from somewhere and looked over at me.

Her lips twitched upward.

“What is it?”

Minyeong unnie kept silently grinning without saying anything.

So unnie’s finally lost it.

Had I been tormenting her too much lately…

“Unnie. I’ve been too obsessed with Palace Flower…”

“They want you to re-audition! For Palace Flower!”

“…?”

Minyeong unnie clutched her phone and started praying.

“We must have been too desperate. They’re giving us this kind of opportunity, right? Actually, I prayed a lot.”

This was the first time I’d seen unnie this ecstatic.

Watching her made me laugh, but I also felt dazed.

I couldn’t believe it was actually working either.

And in just two days?

Isn’t this too fast?

“Hey, quickly get dressed… no, let’s just buy something on the way. Move it!”

Unnie pushed me out of the office.