Chapter 3
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Translator: Diva
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Audition
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“Oh, but then I can’t read the other actor’s lines for you. Didn’t you say the script was changing?”
“No. Just do it as is.”
…?
As is?
Jeon Se-yeon hesitated for a moment at Ha Eun-rae’s continued unexpected responses before nodding.
“Well… alright, then.”
With that answer, Ha Eun-rae flashed a bright smile and bowed her head.
“Thank you!”
Just moments ago, she’d been negotiating with the director like a seasoned pro, but now her face lit up with the innocent awkwardness unique to someone in her twenties.
But this lingering sense of déjà vu—like even this was acting—what was it…?
While Jeon Se-yeon felt a nagging unease, Ha Eun-rae had already stood up and slipped under the desk…?
Then she poked her head out and said,
“Give me the cue, and I’ll start!”
“Ah… okay…”
She’s oddly cute.
Come to think of it, the female lead ‘Suin’ was a character who ate her meals under the desk and slept under the bed, convinced she was a ghost.
Was she recreating that…?
The cinematographer watching from the side let out a sudden chuckle.
Jeon Se-yeon almost laughed too but held it back.
Auditions had to be judged coldly.
“Cue.”
The moment she called the cue with grave seriousness.
The cinematographer slyly lowered the camera toward the underside of the desk.
In that brief interval, Ha Eun-rae—no, ‘Suin’—with her hair thoroughly tousled, was captured on camera.
Like a real ghost, she huddled under the desk, her eyes darting around.
It was strangely eerie yet—
Cute.
What was this cuteness?
Jeon Se-yeon had envisioned ‘Suin’ simply as a hikikomori lost in delusion, but Ha Eun-rae was layering her own unique charm onto it.
Yet it wasn’t devoid of the desperation unique to someone who’d long gnawed at their own inner self.
The sense of someone believing themselves a non-entity in this world—a ghost—seeped through her expressions, her fingertips, her toes.
The way she avoided stretching out her body, or how her eyes kept scanning the surroundings while huddled—it looked unstable, pitiful.
Like a scared kitten.
Catching an image of Suin she’d never imagined, Jeon Se-yeon was a beat late in checking the script.
[Hyun-woo: Ahem… Excuse me.]
Oh, right.
Hyun-woo was supposed to enter.
“Ahem.”
The instant Jeon Se-yeon cleared her throat while reading the script.
Ha Eun-rae, who’d been plastered to the desk leg, suddenly flattened herself to the floor.
At the same time, her hair fanned out across the ground.
“…!”
What was that cat-like movement?
Cute.
She felt it again, but really… it was cute!
The moment she saw it, storyboards started revising wildly in Jeon Se-yeon’s mind.
Originally, this scene was meant to show the female lead from the male lead’s perspective.
To objectively highlight how pitiful Suin’s ghostly solitary life was, evoking a touch of pity from the male lead.
That was the bare minimum to kick off the romance…
Since it was a scene written out of obligation, no clear direction had come to mind.
But watching Ha Eun-rae’s acting, ideas flooded in.
The character had changed!
“Ex… excuse me…”
As Jeon Se-yeon delivered Hyun-woo’s line, Ha Eun-rae’s ‘Suin’ looked up at the camera from her prone position, eyes only.
Does she know the camera’s been adjusted?
Jeon Se-yeon was surprised once more.
In Ha Eun-rae’s eyes, which had seemed frightened at first, a sharp spark flickered for an instant.
What… was that…
And in the next moment, Ha Eun-rae snapped her head up.
The shifts from slow to sudden movements evoked a cat more than a human, fitting the ghost concept perfectly.
Handheld shots would make it feel even more uncanny.
Before she knew it, she was getting drawn into Ha Eun-rae’s performance while thinking that.
Ha Eun-rae, head raised, crawled toward the camera and gazed with distant eyes.
“…Mr. Yong-mok?”
Tears began plopping from eyes that had been dry just before.
It was so wistful that Jeon Se-yeon momentarily forgot the script had changed.
Snapping back to reality, she delivered the next line.
“I heard… you’re the tenant living here…”
“Darling, you’ve finally come to me. You’ve become a ghost too, haven’t you?”
…?!
Only then did Jeon Se-yeon realize how the actress had altered the script.
With tears brimming, Ha Eun-rae smiled.
“I missed you!”
She nailed the crying-while-smiling act.
And Jeon Se-yeon’s mind grew incredibly complicated.
Because she now knew exactly how to revise the script.
Honestly, the next auditions didn’t even register.
The female lead for this movie was already decided.
No need for those acclaimed Korean National University of Arts grads.
Jeon Se-yeon’s ‘Suin’ was one person only.
The 21-year-old rookie who’d never starred in a proper film: Ha Eun-rae.
* * *
Not a bad vibe.
After finishing the scene, I quickly scanned Jeon Se-yeon and the cinematographer’s expressions.
Having been through countless auditions and meetings, I was a genius at reading rooms like this.
Acting was fundamentally a profession where you got chosen.
No matter how sky-high an actor’s guarantee fee, you couldn’t just pick and choose projects.
And here, the casting decider was the director, Jeon Se-yeon.
I knew what kind of person ‘Jeon Se-yeon’ was.
I once met with her because I wanted a role in one of her films. Didn’t get cast, though…
For reference, that movie broke ten million viewers.
Tch.
Annoying that they didn’t pick me, but Jeon Se-yeon was a genius at heartfelt comedies that made Koreans laugh and cry.
So for this meeting, I’d studied her entire filmography.
Including her feature debut, Living with a Ghost.
Honestly, it wasn’t that fun.
With high expectations from a director who nailed both emotion and comedy, the romance fell flat…
But the comedic opening was pretty hilarious, I remembered.
She really brings the mise-en-scène to life in the funny parts.
I’d jotted down what I liked and what felt lacking while watching, and my biggest gripe with Living with a Ghost was this:
The link between the female and male leads was too weak.
“Why did you think to change that part like this?”
Jeon Se-yeon asked, her face a bit surprised.
“I thought it’d be more fun if the person in the car with the female lead during her traffic accident wasn’t her parents, but her lover. So I set it up where she mistakes the male lead for her deceased boyfriend.”
That’s right.
While improvising to avoid seeming like I hadn’t memorized the script was one thing, I’d genuinely acted out the fix I’d wanted.
Back when I watched the movie, I’d thought the leads’ chemistry needed deeper intertwined backstories to pop.
True ‘real romance’ explodes when two lacks collide.
Like…
How I met Kim Do-woon and wanted him to fill my family void.
“So you added a setting where the male lead resembles her old lover? That feels a bit forced…”
“I don’t think resemblance matters.”
“Then why mistake him for her boyfriend?”
“Because she’s lonely.”
I looked steadily at Jeon Se-yeon as I said it.
For the record, she’d been filming my face nonstop since earlier.
So I kept my gaze on her while maintaining a 75-degree angle to the camera.
Best angle for my acting.
Wonder who told me that…
I continued, lost in thought.
“Suin’s been alone for so long, right? Believing she’s a ghost, isolating herself to assuage her guilt. But deep down, she must’ve been lonely. Wanted to connect with others. So the moment she sees a guy who doesn’t even look that similar—”
I recalled the day I first met Kim Do-woon.
Honestly, not my type.
The guy who showed up near my shoot in a flashy red sports car, despite my okay, and dragged me to some glitzy restaurant.
His showy talk, over-the-top kindness, constant praise of my looks—stuff that wouldn’t have drawn me in normally.
But—
“You’ve had some controversy lately, right?”
“Ah… yeah.”
“People just blabber without taste. Right? Don’t mind them. Honestly, I like you, Eun-rae. And if you become my woman, I’ll shut all those mouths for you. I will.”
…I was lonely.
I wanted someone to unconditionally take my side.
Romance doesn’t start with perfect matches recognizing each other.
It’s closer to the illusions born from one’s own lacks.
“She wanted to believe that man was her lover. And in my opinion, that kind of love…”
I felt a swell of emotion.
Regret. Sadness. Despair.
And as always, I thought about how I’d look on camera feeling this.
From countless monitorings, I knew.
I—
Look beautiful like this. Stunning, cool.
“…has no reason.”
Mindful of the camera, I let a few tears glisten.
And in that moment, seeing Jeon Se-yeon and the cinematographer’s faces, I was certain.
I aced this audition.