In This Life I Will Die as an Actress Not a Villainess Chapter 83

And so, starting the next day, I practically lived in the practice room the workshop provided.

The audition was divided into two parts: a first round evaluating dialogue and emotional acting, and a second round assessing action.

“Action, huh…”

Minyeong unnie was looking into action schools near the hotel.

But the preparation period was way too short.

‘Either way, I need to nail the first round that’s staring me in the face.’

The role I’d be playing had limited screen time, but was an important character—the most moderate and closest to true “justice” among the heroes in the work.

A benevolent hero from the East who the other heroes sometimes even relied on.

However, most of the dialogue was incorporated into action sequences, making it difficult to convey emotion while capturing that feel.

The first hurdle was even imagining myself in the mirror as a hero.

What kind of image should I paint of myself?

Me flying through the sky in a leather suit.

It was something I’d never pictured even during those times I zoned out in idle fantasies.

Even harder to immerse myself in than that was the version of myself that was too perfect, lacking nothing.

I’m not that cool of a person.

While deeply absorbed like that, practicing various versions until dawn…

“Sena, you still haven’t left?”

David would often open the practice room door on his way home after finishing workshop classes.

I’d give him an awkward smile seeing him like that.

“This is my first time with this genre, so it’s not easy.”

At that, David smiled and said,

“Most people can’t get over that wall. Just thinking about it makes them laugh. Me, a hero?”

David pulled a ridiculous face.

Seeing that, I nodded seriously.

It was a convincing point.

“Keep at it.”

After David closed the door and left, I looked at the practice room mirror again.

Then quietly recited the line.

“Having many people to protect isn’t something unfortunate. It means I love people that much, and am loved by them in return.”

* * *

A week of sleeping only an hour or two a day, staying up all night practicing, and finally—the audition venue.

“Bravo! Bravo!”

“This is beyond expectations. You actually did emotional acting.”

Right after finishing the performance, the director and staff all applauded in unison.

Momentarily flustered by the much better response than expected, I bowed my head quickly, then thought ‘Oh wait, this is America’ and gave an awkward smile.

But the director looked even more surprised than me.

“As you know, we didn’t give you the full script, so all the audition participants had trouble putting emotion into it.”

The director began praising me sincerely.

These unbelievable moments kept happening in my life.

I couldn’t answer at all and just stood there staring at the director’s mouth.

“Action—passionate young actors can mostly handle that. But emotion…”

The director shook his head.

“Especially the emotional arc in hero films isn’t easy to convey. Because you can’t experience it in everyday life.”

That was really true.

Even I had taken quite a while to immerse myself in it.

Who knew I’d end up living in that LA acting workshop practice room for an entire week?

“But you accomplished that, Sena.”

“I don’t know what to do with myself… Thank you.”

I felt completely dazed.

But the director added a new explanation.

“This role especially needs to create big impact with limited screen time. You have to give credit to other heroes during every battle scene. That’s this character’s virtue.”

“……”

Hearing that, I nodded very slowly.

Depending on how you took it, those words could be interpreted several different ways.

Better not jump to conclusions for now.

The director continued.

“So the actor’s role is important. Even with limited screen time, you need to stand out. Though there’ll be a big moment of glory in a later series down the line.”

It felt like words offered as consolation.

I put on a smile and answered brightly.

“Yes, I understand.”

At least I liked the director’s clear way of speaking without beating around the bush.

“Then we’ll see you at the second round.”

The director said.

* * *

That afternoon, walking down the street holding the new second-round audition script I’d received.

As expected, the weather was sunny today too.

My mood felt strange.

This really isn’t a dream.

Wait, could this be like a second script possession or something?

I glanced around quickly.

‘I passed the first round of the Warners audition.’

Maybe—really maybe—I could appear in a film that had produced superstars who dominated the entire world.

Me, in that place.

My heart pounded harder after finishing the audition than during it.

Despite not sleeping properly for a whole week, I didn’t feel sleepy at all.

If anything, my mind felt clear.

When I told her this news, Minyeong unnie was already in full meltdown mode.

‘Oh my god, this kid really did it?! I’ll book that top-tier action school I was looking at. The one run by world-class martial arts directors and stunt actors. I’ll reserve a hotel nearby too, so head straight there!’

Lately unnie’s voice had been consistently high-pitched.

Hearing her voice made me chuckle softly.

The company was probably shouldering expenses about double what they spent sending me to America.

Which meant I needed to do even better.

I shoved a sandwich into my mouth hurriedly while flipping through the new script page by page.

After reading a few lines, my steps came to an abrupt halt.

Even someone who didn’t know the first thing about action could tell this was clearly a scene requiring all sorts of equipment and wire work.

And at a higher difficulty level than I’d expected.

Do all the other audition participants practice action too?

My vision went dark.

Plus another problem had just popped up—what was I supposed to do?

They said there were fewer first-round passers than expected, so the second-round schedule got moved up.

That was news the audition staff had texted me just moments ago.

I shook my head.

I have to do this.

If I do it, it’ll work out, so it’ll be fine.

I moved my feet forward again.

But my steps slowed once more.

This time because words the director had said at the audition suddenly came to mind.

‘This role especially needs to create big impact with limited screen time. You have to give credit to other heroes during every battle scene.’

‘Though there’ll be a big moment of glory in a later series down the line.’

But these hero series require committing for at least three or four years minimum…

I couldn’t take it and sat down on a bench I spotted.

“The sky’s really blue.”

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

Let’s not think about anything.

For now, I just need to get through the second-round audition.

I resolved to clear my mind until then.

* * *

But action turned out to be a far greater obstacle than I’d thought.

A few days later, at the action school.

About six hours into swinging a sword in midair while harnessed in wires.

“Only tense your core and relax your body!! You’ll get hurt!!”

And hearing the exact same thing for the sixth hour straight.

My lower back hurt so much I couldn’t stand it.

Plus I kept getting motion sickness, which was agonizing.

“Ugh.”

“Hold on a second.”

The instructor lowered me from the wire.

“Let me take a quick break.”

The two coaches watching grabbed me and dragged me to sit in a chair.

My head kept spinning.

I retched and ran outside.

In front of the action school.

I lay sprawled on the grass, staring at the sun that stung my eyes.

Someone recommended and made it to the second round only to look like this.

Was this really okay?

I lifted my tattered right arm to look at the equally tattered script.

I closed my eyes briefly while flipping through the script, then opened them…

Something whooshed past right before my eyes.

At the same time, the script I’d been holding vanished without a trace.

The sound of someone’s footsteps running in the opposite direction brushed past my ears.

A pickpocket?!

“Hey!!”

I got up and started chasing the bastard running away fast.

Not my bag, not my wallet—why would you steal someone’s script?

But as my running feet lifted into the air, the feeling of the ground grew distant.

“…?!”

My body gradually floated higher.

Then with an earsplitting roar, the asphalt beneath my feet split in two.

A huge boulder came flying toward me from far away.

Startled, I screamed and thrashed around.

That moment, golden letters appeared before my eyes.

[Mission: Awakening Supernatural Abilities]

“What?!”

[Reward: Time]

Then more golden text appeared in succession.

What the hell is this?

What’s going on?

“Mom!!”

* * *

The same moment.

Aiden sat in a car holding a script.

The exact same script Han Sena had been holding.

Except the sections highlighted with marker in the script were a different character’s lines.

Specifically, another male hero.

Aiden closed the script and rested his chin in his hand, gazing out the window.

His expression was indifferent.

‘I wanted to try a different style now.’

Aiden was currently deep in contemplation.

Having played such an intense villain in his previous work, he’d reached a point where an image change was necessary.

However, the moment the Warners Studio audition offer came in, the agency pushed forward in the complete opposite direction from what they’d been planning.

They said it was important to first make a strong impression on the public.

The agency would obviously prioritize profits, and he didn’t have any alternatives to propose from his side either.

‘But image fixation is the fastest way to shorten an actor’s lifespan.’

Aiden looked at the closed script.

Two days ago, he’d heard that this script had also been given to Han Sena from the same workshop.

“I wonder what that person’s doing.”

For some reason, the few performances he’d seen during the workshop were burned intensely into his mind and wouldn’t fade.

He’d kept thinking he should strike up a conversation, but hadn’t executed it yet.

If he had his way, he’d want to track down her number and call.

That’s when his phone rang.

An unknown number appeared on the screen.

Aiden frowned and flipped the phone over…

But somehow bothered by it, he stared at the phone for a few seconds.

He picked it back up, and the call was still coming through.

Aiden answered.

“Hello? Yes, this is Aiden.”

Brief silence filled the car.

“Director Raymond Zhang…? A casting offer?”

Aiden straightened from leaning against his seat.

“Yes, yes, thank you. If you send it by email, I’ll check it right away.”

Aiden hung up and opened his email inbox with a completely transformed expression.

A feature-length screenplay flew in immediately.

“It really is Raymond Zhang’s new work.”

Raymond Zhang was a Korean-American director currently sweeping international film festivals.

He made films based on the emotional reality of his actual life, never truly belonging anywhere due to his birth circumstances.

The screenplay he’d just heard briefly over the phone was also a story about the life of a Korean-American woman adopted to America.

The role offered to him was her husband—a supporting role, but one of the important ones.

A faint smile spread across Aiden’s lips as he slowly began reading through the screenplay.

How much time passed?

When the manager approached the car Aiden was in, Aiden—who’d read the script all the way through without moving—wore a peculiar expression.

‘Maybe I’ve found an alternative that could overturn the agency’s insistence.’

As the manager climbed into the driver’s seat and grabbed the wheel, Aiden thought of something else.

‘Wait, if it’s a Korean-American role… who’ll get cast?’