ILHBO C4

When This Life Isn’t About a Husband, but an Oscar
Episode 4

“I think, thanks to Eunrae, we’ll be able to improve the work a lot more. Now that I think about it, the character I was most attached to was ‘Soo-in’. I realize the problem was that I was only focused on how the male lead falls for the female lead from his perspective.”

I had only intended to secure Jeagal Seyon’s project as part of my early filmography.

And now they were talking about a full revision?

On top of that—

“I’d like to tell the story entirely from ‘Soo-in’s’ perspective. The dialogue might increase quite a bit. Would that be alright?”

It felt like I was being pushed out of the male lead position entirely, turning me into the central focus instead.

The compensation was far greater than I had expected, so I hesitated for a moment.

But this was when a rookie had to act like one.

I bent my waist to a full 120 degrees.

“Please leave it to me! I’ll do my best!”

And just as I lifted my head after speaking—

Something shimmered in front of my eyes.

At the same time, something strange… appeared.

[Editing wiki for <Living with a Ghost>……]

[Would you like to search the revised wiki of <Living with a Ghost>?]

What… is this?

I tilted my head, and in that moment, I lost my balance. The sudden situation made my footing slip.

Just as my body began to awkwardly collapse—

Someone grabbed my shoulder.

I looked up.

“…!”

I remembered.

“Ha Eunrae-ssi looks better when shot from below 75 degrees. That opening scene—the angle felt off.”

Seventy-five degrees.

Whose words were those?

Standing before me was a man who looked more like an actor than any actor I had ever seen.

Still holding my shoulder, he leaned close and said quietly near my ear:

“…Good work. I watched your performance.”

At that moment, chills ran down my entire body.

Impossible.

In my past life, Park Seowoo had never once said something like that to me.

He released my shoulder and extended his hand as if offering a handshake.

“I’m Park Seowoo from the filming crew.”

Park Seowoo.

That Park Seowoo who won an Oscar.

The monstrous director in this industry who had never once ruined a single film he touched.

Every film he submitted to international festivals swept awards, and both commercial success and artistic value followed him effortlessly.

A man who was more beautiful than most actors, to the point that at premieres, fans often took pictures of him instead of the actors themselves.

‘This man was working as a crew member twelve years ago at a film academy graduation project…?’

As far as I knew, Park Seowoo came from a prestigious university, made a short film in a film club, won awards at festivals, and steadily climbed through indie and commercial films until reaching his current—no, future—position.

And in the past, I used to call him this:

A damn bastard.

“I watched your work. 39 minutes and 25 seconds in. Your eye acting was good, but I think you misjudged the tone at the start of the dialogue.”

He always started with critique instead of greetings.

Even if I appeared in B-grade films or morning dramas with disastrous ratings, he watched everything and dissected performances down to the smallest detail.

How could someone memorize a two-hour film down to the minute, or remember exactly what acting was done in which episode of a 20-part drama?

People said he came from S University—did he have a camera for a brain or something?

Worse, he didn’t do this to others. He was somewhat quiet with other actors.

‘Why only me…?’

Because of that, I even avoided running into him whenever possible.

But no matter how much I avoided him, Park Seowoo always approached me first at awards ceremonies or private gatherings.

And every time, he would evaluate my acting like a greeting.

“Ha Eunrae-ssi looks better shot from below 75 degrees. That opening scene—the angle was off.”

…I should really kill him.

And yet, when I went home, I practiced the exact adjustments he had mentioned.

He was an insufferable person, but his talent was real.

And I was not an actress who wasted the feedback of a gifted director.

No matter how unpleasant it felt.

It was at a completely unexpected time that such a man handed me a script.

Four years ago.

Right after I was forced to step down from a lead role in a film due to a family debt controversy.

[Ha Eunrae apologizes for family debt controversy… replaced as lead in <Minor> film]

For days, I turned off my phone and stayed home playing games.

I even ate instant noodles—something I had never allowed myself before—and drank cola freely.

Then one day, when I realized I had gained two kilograms, I snapped awake.

I turned on my phone, and messages from my agency flooded in.

[Haeun, I’ll bring you a better project…]

[You’re resting at home, right?]

Useless messages.

But one message caught my eye.

[Haeun! I brought you a Park Seowoo project! He wrote the script thinking of you! That Park Seowoo who won at the Toronto Film Festival! I read it first—it’s perfect for you!]

Park Seowoo?

And among the messages from my agency head, there was one from an unknown number.

[I got your number from your agency head. This is director Park Seowoo. I would be grateful if you could join this project.]

That was the first and only time Park Seowoo had ever spoken to me politely.

And I rejected that polite request.

I kicked away what would become an Oscar-winning film.

All because of trash like Kim Do-woon.

I frowned at the memory.

I thought that would be the end of my connection with Park Seowoo.

Until I met him again long after my marriage.

“Does he really think someone like that suits Do-woon? A while ago, some woman claiming to be family even came asking for money. I had already set my sights on several girls for our Do-woon…”

Bee Entertainment founding anniversary.

At the hotel, my mother-in-law, drunk in the VIP lounge, was openly insulting me.

I stood there awkwardly, listening, before quietly leaving.

That was when I ran into Park Seowoo in the hallway.

“It really proves my point—this is why mismatched marriages shouldn’t happen. There are actresses who were raised properly, but she just stands there even when her mother-in-law insults her. No pride, no sense.”

He heard everything.

I felt my face burn when I realized Park Seowoo had overheard every word of abuse from the VIP lounge.

I wanted to run.

Of all people, I didn’t want him—the director who once criticized my acting—to witness this reality.

I tried to pretend I hadn’t seen him and walked past.

Then Park Seowoo spoke.

“Don’t you regret it?”

I turned back.

His face was slightly distorted.

A rare crack of emotion showed in a man who was usually perfectly composed.

‘Why?’

“Have you ever wanted to go back? Do you really think… family is that important?”

Was he asking if I regretted not doing his film?

How satisfying must it be for him—to see an actress who once criticized him now living such a miserable married life?

As I looked up at Park Seowoo while recalling the past—

Something strange appeared again in front of my eyes.

[Editing wiki for <Park Seowoo>……]

[Would you like to search the revised wiki of <Park Seowoo>?]

Had I not seen enough fantasy films?

This is usually what they call it.

A mysterious ability that appears after regression.

And abilities are meant to be used.

‘Yes.’

At my answer, the wiki window opened.

Under Park Seowoo’s handsome profile photo from twelve years in the future, basic information like birth date and lineage appeared before the page began to scroll rapidly.

<Interviews & Quotes>

Q. Is there any actor you particularly remember or want to work with again?

A. I’ve worked with so many great actors that it’s hard to pick just one. But if I had to name someone, there is one. I once had the chance to watch an audition tape during my student days, and I never forgot those eyes. I’ve been writing with that person in mind ever since. I don’t know if they would realize it. (NEW!)

Only the edited part shimmered brightly.

And through the semi-transparent window, Park Seowoo was looking at me.

“I watched your performance. Especially your eyes—they were really good.”

It was the first compliment I had ever heard from Park Seowoo.