ILHBO C7

In This Life, Not a Husband but an Oscar
Episode 7

At that moment, a staff member clapped loudly.

“Alright, we’re starting filming!”

For actors, the first shoot is always nerve-wracking.

It’s the first time they get to see how the character they’ve built actually appears through the camera lens.

Even now, nearly ten years into my acting career, that nervousness hadn’t disappeared.

But it was different from my very first time.

I could be nervous and still perform.

Besides, this scene was Suin’s solo sequence at the beginning of the story.

That alone made things less stressful.

“Cue!”

At the director’s signal, I focused.

Suin—the character who believes she is a ghost—peeks outside through the peephole in her front door before sneaking out to steal delivery food from next door.

“Eheheh… this is exciting… no humansss…”

Then she suddenly swings the door open.

“Cut! Okay!”

Director Jageol Seyun looked satisfied, as expected.

I could hear the staff murmuring here and there.

“That was really good.”

“Is she really a first-time actor?”

Not a first-timer, you idiots.

Ten years in the industry already.

Among them, Hong Jongho—who was loudly sipping an iced caramel macchiato I had bought (his usual drink)—was staring at me with his mouth wide open, completely impressed by my acting.

And Park Seowoo, who looked… somewhat dissatisfied with my performance.

What’s your problem now, you brat?

Say it out loud if you’ve got something to say.

Feeling a surge of irritation, I glanced at him.

‘They call him a production staff member, but he’s basically doing every odd job imaginable.’

Accounting, food delivery, coffee runs, even handling receipts for everything.

‘A future youngest-ever Oscar-winning director doing grunt work like this…’

It was a strange feeling.

Twenty-year-old Park Seowoo really felt unfamiliar.

Then Director Jageol Seyun approached me.

“Your acting was really good. I think we can just use this take as-is… um… hmm… I’m not sure how to put this…”

She scratched her head.

Even though she had won awards at short film festivals, she seemed unsure how to give feedback to an actor.

“Well, usually on the first shoot, it’s about adjusting the gap between what I envisioned and what the actor prepared. But this time… there’s no mismatch at all. It’s different from what I imagined at the audition too.”

Ah.

That made sense.

No matter how good the acting is, if it doesn’t match the director’s vision, the actor has to adjust.

An actor is like a puzzle piece in the director’s picture.

“Ah… then just tell me whatever needs adjusting and I’ll adapt…”

You’re going to be a ten-million-viewer director someday, so of course I should adjust…

“…No, it’s really good. Exactly as it is.”

But Director Jageol Seyun’s next words went in an unexpected direction.

“…Pardon?”

“It’s even more eerie and cute than before. That gaze you added that wasn’t in the script—what was that? Especially the incense on the ancestral table. Blowing it out before leaving—where did that come from?”

“Ah… well, ghosts usually don’t like incense smoke. And when people leave offerings, they often extinguish incense before going out.”

“…You thought of that?”

“I just read the script a lot and it came to me.”

I smiled shyly, pretending to be modest.

But in truth, it was a carefully calculated improvisation.

‘I got a little greedy.’

The revised script was genuinely fun.

With the romance stripped away, Director Jageol Seyun’s witty comedy stood out even more.

Honestly, I thought it could even succeed commercially at this level…

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself.’

It was only the first shoot.

Just as I was thinking that, Park Seowoo—who had been silently listening—spoke up.

“Director.”

There it is.

That sharp-tongued brat couldn’t possibly stay quiet at twenty.

I waited to see what he would say about my acting.

“What if we retake this scene?”

“Huh? Why?”

Director Jageol Seyun asked.

“I think it would be better to include more close-ups. Especially during the incense-blowing part—”

Park Seowoo looked at me.

“You looked really beautiful there. Especially with those stray hairs moving. If we shoot it in slow motion, it’ll definitely come out well.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s not bad.”

“And around 1 minute 25 seconds in the footage, when you smiled… that expression where your face scrunched up slightly—it…”

As I listened to him, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

“Good work on that project. Around 39 minutes 25 seconds. Your eye acting was good, but your tone at the start of the line felt off.”

“That drama episode 8, around the 17-minute mark—the lighting was off. It didn’t suit the scene.”

…What?

So he’s been watching me like this all along?

What I once thought were hyper-detailed, almost insulting critiques now sounded slightly different.

‘If it were me, I would’ve filmed you like this.’

That was what it felt like.

“If we keep the expression while blowing out the incense, it would be good. It’s both innocent and cute.”

Park Seowoo spoke as if he were painting me inside his mind, as if I existed within his personal viewfinder.

When he noticed my gaze, he stopped and lowered his head.

“I apologize if I overstepped. I wasn’t trying to critique your acting.”

What is this?

His tone was still as sharp and rigid as ever—but why did it feel so different now?

“Do you really think retiring because of marriage is such an outdated idea?”

That was what he had said at an industry senior’s birthday party right after my marriage announcement.

He was drunk that day, despite usually never drinking.

He looked uncomfortable, and it was obvious I was the source of that discomfort.

Most of all, that look of contempt as he looked down at me.

“I thought you were… smarter than this.”

That gaze had struck something inside me.

The shame of running away from the industry when my career hit rock bottom.

Or perhaps—

‘Maybe I really did make the wrong choice… no, a foolish one.’

In truth, Park Seowoo wasn’t wrong.

My marriage had been a foolish decision.

What kind of normal person demands retirement as a condition of marriage?

Why hadn’t I seen that attitude—his complete lack of respect for my profession?

‘Well… I guess I was that blinded.’

To the idea of a “real family.”

I was wearing a slightly bitter expression when I suddenly snapped back to reality, noticing everyone’s attention on me.

“…Of course, if reshooting is inconvenient, we don’t have to—”

Director Jageol Seyun, thinking I might be uncomfortable, was trying to accommodate me.

I quickly waved my hands.

“Oh, no. I’m fine with reshooting if there’s a chance. I was just imagining it. I usually prepare by running the footage in my head while acting.”

“So you visualize the footage in your mind? That’s not easy for a rookie actor.”

Director Jageol Seyun said, sounding impressed.

“Eunrae-ssi, you’re quite a smart actor.”