In This Life I Will Die as an Actress Not a Villainess Chapter 5

“Okay.”

With the director’s voice, Scene 1 wrapped.

Applause from the cast echoed through the room.

“Sena-ssi, you must’ve practiced a lot.”

“She doesn’t seem like a rookie at all.”

Amid the incoming praise, my gaze remained fixed solely on Writer Lee Si-young.

The writer only nodded silently.

“Let’s keep going with the next scene.”

The following scene featured a confrontation between Yoo Ji-an and her nemesis uncle.

The uncle’s role was played by Park Hoon sunbaenim, dubbed the “premium supporting actor” by many.

“Just finish playing your little love games at your fiancé’s company. That’s better for everyone, isn’t it?”

As expected, the veteran senior instantly turned the atmosphere hostile.

His imposing build was just a bonus.

Yoo Ji-an’s uncle managed one of the family’s subsidiaries and was a character who used every scheme in the book to exclude the Yu Ji-an siblings from the succession lineup.

When acting opposite seniors who radiated extraordinary auras, you were finished the moment you let them overwhelm you.

It was a mistake I’d made often in the past.

“Your father must have quite the headache. The eldest has mental illness, and the second is crazy over some man.”

I scoffed audibly at those words.

The gazes of over thirty people turned this way.

I hung a cold smile on the corner of my lips—perfectly Yoo Ji-an.

The method Yoo Ji-an had used her whole life to handle those who attacked her.

“Uncle, you should stick to catching whatever scraps fall your way. With such a small bowl, you’d better protect what little you have.”

“What?”

The tense exchange going back and forth felt good even to me—the tension was perfect.

“It’s easy to climb up by clinging to strings, but you’ll learn how difficult it is to keep hanging on to the end.”

The director called out “Okay” again with a laugh.

This time too, the writer only nodded.

After that, actress Jung Yu-ri, playing the protagonist Shin Sera, gave a passionate performance.

Without any breaks, the script reading continued for three straight hours.

* * *

Script reading break time.

While the actors and staff, including Han Sena, stepped out briefly for business or to smoke, Writer Lee Si-young and Director Moon Won-hyung sat facing each other.

“What do you think, Writer? You haven’t said anything all day.”

Writer Lee Si-young still sat with an ambiguous expression.

“Well, we have to leave it to the actors now.”

Just then, Assistant Director Jung Chae-sung, who’d been organizing scripts nearby, chimed in.

“Today’s flow was good, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Not a single sloppy actor, and it looks promising.”

The director answered, seeming pleased.

“What about Han Sena-ssi?”

The assistant director tossed out the question.

“She did well without getting intimidated, didn’t she?”

The director nodded as if acknowledging her performance.

“What did you think of Sena-ssi, Writer?”

“She did well. Her tone improved from the audition too.”

Hearing the writer’s response, the director rolled up his script and tapped it against his head.

“Now the biggest concern is that thing.”

The word “that” from the director’s mouth instantly made the air heavy.

The writer and assistant director simultaneously nodded with darkened faces.

Writer Lee Si-young answered.

“She’s such a young person.”

“Why did the filming schedule have to turn out this way? Ugh.”

Jung Chae-sung raised one hand to dry-wash his face.

“Come to think of it, it’s actually good that many of Yoo Ji-an’s scenes got cut.”

The assistant director added in agreement.

“The writer felt it was a shame, but if we’d gone with the previous version, a rookie actor couldn’t have handled it.”

At that, Writer Lee Si-young smiled with slight regret.

“Ah, really, I wish Han Sena could pull it off well.”

Now hearing the writer’s inner thoughts, the director and assistant director smiled slightly.

“First time I’ve seen a writer put more effort into the villain than the heroine.”

The assistant director joked.

Writer Lee Si-young brushed back her hair.

“She’s charming, isn’t she? Either way, I’m worried… I keep trying not to be greedy, but still.”

Director Moon nodded.

He felt the same way.

The three of them let out exhausted sighs mixed with worry and anticipation.

Meanwhile, the door opened and actors and staff entered one by one.

* * *

Past midnight on the clock.

Finally, the reading ended and I closed the script with a snap.

Despite just sitting, I was sweating and short of breath.

Wow, this really isn’t ordinary work. How did I manage it back then?

I pressed the script against my face.

The Flat Shoes lead actors gulped down water the moment they closed their scripts.

As I stuck out my tongue in amazement, everyone shouted in unison.

“Great work, everyone!”

“You all did well—”

Only now did the thirty-plus actors and staff rise from their seats.

Everyone was completely exhausted.

“We’ll notify you separately about the second reading schedule!”

One staff member called out, and people began streaming out of the office, exchanging farewells.

I too gathered my things and stood up.

“Sena-ssi.”

Just then, Writer Lee Si-young called out to me.

People glanced this way as they cleared out.

In the now-empty office.

Left alone with the writer, I gulped involuntarily.

What’s this about?

This situation didn’t happen back then.

Seeing my expression, the writer smiled slightly as if telling me not to be nervous.

“Nothing serious—you did well.”

“Pardon?”

I quietly looked down at the writer’s eyes, a span shorter than mine.

“You did well in today’s reading. Your first reading ever, right? How was it?”

“I was so nervous, but everyone accommodated and supported me well, so it was comfortable.”

The teacher nodded.

“That’s good. You’re the youngest on the Flat Shoes team, and a rookie too. I wanted to look after you, so I called you over.”

“Ah…”

I bowed my head slightly as if grateful.

There’s definitely something more you want to say.

“Sena-ssi.”

The teacher continued gently.

“What do you think of Yoo Ji-an?”

“Pardon?”

It was a bewildering question.

Speaking of Yoo Ji-an…

The image of Yoo Ji-an crying before me surfaced.

The most pitiful villainess in the world.

Someone in whom my own life was reflected, someone who broke my heart just as much.

Not knowing what to say, I stayed silent, and the teacher asked again.

“What do you think is Yoo Ji-an’s weakness?”

“…!”

I nearly stopped breathing at those words.

I met the teacher’s eyes, trembling.

I felt as if the time I’d spent searching for Yoo Ji-an’s weakness in the script had been discovered.

The teacher spoke quietly.

“I think people like Yoo Ji-an—perfect and ruthless, lacking nothing—are likely to have one fatal weakness more serious than others.”

“Yes…”

I barely managed to speak.

“Would you try to find it?”

It felt like receiving a mission.

A mission given to me by the teacher.

Though in truth, it was a mission cleared long ago.

Only then did the time spent wandering within the script feel truly rewarded.

“Yes, Teacher. I’ll definitely find it!”

I grasped both the teacher’s hands tightly.

The teacher laughed, startled.

“Come on, let’s go now. We need to rest.”

And so, the writer and I turned off the last lights and left.

* * *

The long-awaited first day of shooting <Flat Shoes>.

The appearance, atmosphere, weather—everything about this filming location on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province took me back twenty years.

Nice weather, good breeze too.

Standing on the traffic-controlled road, I took a deep breath.

The day I first fell into the script and met Yoo Ji-an.

The day snow poured down, the day Shin Sera was hit by Yoo Ji-an’s car.

I was scheduled to perform that scene.

Seeing it all made me nervous yet newly aware of reality.

I’m really filming Flat Shoes again.

As Yoo Ji-an again…

Just then, I overheard staff members busily moving equipment nearby.

“Starting the shoot with the climax scene, no less.”

The staff were sighing deeply over the filming schedule.

“I heard the actress playing Yoo Ji-an this time is a complete rookie.”

“I was seriously desperate when I saw the schedule. This is gonna be full of NGs, right? Then it’s straight to the chopping block.”

“What good does it do if we do our job perfectly? The actors need to deliver…”

I stopped walking toward the set for a moment.

Suddenly, I recalled Writer Lee Si-young calling me aside on reading day.

Only now did I feel I understood the writer’s intentions.

The teacher must have been worried too.

Perhaps the teacher was afraid to entrust the scene she’d crafted most carefully to a debuting rookie, on her very first shoot.

I resumed walking.

Unexpectedly, I didn’t feel particularly burdened or worried.

I was fully prepared.

As I strode forward, I spotted Writer Lee Si-young in the distance, sitting in a folding chair at one corner of the set.

“Teacher!”

I ran over and greeted her warmly, clasping her hands.

“You came out this early?”

“Sena-ssi, you’re here early. Did you sleep?”

When the teacher warmly met my eyes and returned my greeting, my heart swelled.

Seeing the middle-aged teacher’s appearance several times, I gradually adapted while simultaneously feeling the weight of time that had passed.

She’s such a warm person—I should’ve been less scared of her in my past life.

“I was too nervous to sleep a wink, Teacher.”

An almost-complaint that wasn’t really a complaint came out naturally.

I didn’t realize it before, but as you age, strangely, charm toward your seniors flows automatically.

As you get older, there are many juniors leaning on you, but the seniors you can lean on gradually disappear.

Either way, I’m young Han Sena now, but inside I’m someone who’s weathered all storms and started over…

I wanted to lean fully on those I could lean on.

“Teacher, why did you come out so early?”

I asked the question despite knowing the teacher’s habits.

“I have to come early to greet everyone one by one like this. After today, I won’t have any reason to come to the set. I’m old now, no energy left.”

The teacher’s casual words drew laughter from nearby staff.

“Teacher, you’re still in your prime—what are you saying?”

“Am I in my prime? Anyway, I can’t see some and not others.”

Truly, even knowing it all, I found myself impressed.

The teacher, famous as a tiger writer, made eye contact and had sincere conversations with each actor before and after filming.

Passion for perfect work and affection for actors.

This was Writer Lee Si-young’s defining characteristic and everything about her.

“Writer, I… I worked hard looking for what you mentioned.”

At my words, the teacher smiled warmly.

“My, it’s not easy to say that. Can I look forward to it?”

I smiled back at the teacher’s words without answering.

“Breathing is crucial in this scene, so you don’t have to follow the dialogue exactly. Feel free to start thinking of it as a rehearsal, following your character research.”

The writer encouraged me.

“Yes, I understand.”

“We’re ready!”

A staff member’s voice came from behind.

“Actors, please get into position.”

Hearing those words, I slowly set down my script.

It’s truly starting now.