Chapter 104: Sense of Ritual

If she kept listening like this, even siblings would likely feel the urge to silence each other. Those awkward scenes from the past seemed to transform into sharp blades, stabbing straight at her self-esteem. Every word, every sentence, was relentlessly eroding her limits of patience. If time could turn back, she would undoubtedly block her ears with cotton without hesitation, even at the risk of being discovered and rushing out of the room. But now, she could only endure it with great effort, trying to find a chance to escape this "disaster." Thus, she gently helped her brothers into the bedroom one by one, moving softly though her heart was eager. Each brother had quite the alcohol buzz, their bodies as heavy as large stones weighing down her shoulders. However, Clara Bennett didn’t complain, knowing these were blood-bound relatives. She patiently helped them adjust their positions, making them more comfortable, and carefully tucked them in. After ensuring each of them was soundly asleep, she quietly left the room, wary of disturbing their rare sweet dreams. Once everyone was settled, Clara Bennett exhaled a long breath, as if just completing a difficult task. Afterward, she dragged her tired body back to her own room, preparing for the end of the day. First came washing up, a step that was not only ritualistic for her but also a way to relax. Stepping out of the bathroom in a soft, light robe, her face now radiated a hint of vitality. Clara Bennett stood before the makeup mirror and began her skincare routine. The skincare products were applied evenly on her hands, her movements skillful, clearly a habit cultivated over the years. Meanwhile, she casually put on headphones, playing an audio of script reading she had been practicing recently. To enhance her learning efficiency, she spent quite a bit of time and effort crafting an innovative "black technology" software for herself. This software was remarkably smart, able to recognize and extract voice data from voice actors, then generate personalized script reading content as needed. In other words, regardless of which actor’s voice she liked, she could import the data and let that person become her "private tutor." This made emotional expression more appropriate, and tone changes more precise and detailed, undoubtedly a huge help in her line rehearsals. During skincare, she recited lines while contemplating the character’s psychological activities and the development of the plot. Every powerful or subtly moving sentence gained new life in her voice. Two hours passed by in a flash, her thoughts completely immersed, scarcely aware of the passage of time. Yet, when her phone suddenly sounded a WeChat voice notification tone, this highly focused state was interrupted. The short, crisp notification sound pierced the room’s silence and pulled Clara Bennett back to the real world. She reached for her phone to see the message source—no need to guess, who else could it be but William Foster? That person who always occupied a corner of her heart, surprisingly connected through words at this moment. Clara Bennett opened the chat interface, and two short messages appeared in her view. The first: "Little girl, are you asleep?" Only eight characters, simple and direct, yet without a trace of cold estrangement. The second quickly followed: "Little girl, goodnight." Similarly brief, yet carrying a kind of gentle and sincere emotion. There was only about three minutes between the two, clearly suggesting the sender went through a brief but complex psychological activity. "What a clingy fellow." Clara Bennett muttered, but her mouth inadvertently curled into a smile. When the words slipped out, they carried a touch of helplessness, but what prevailed was an unmistakable sweetness. She couldn’t help but listen to the second voice message several times; each replay conveyed the sender’s deep and sincere emotional transmission. Especially the "goodnight," the tail slightly lowered, magnetic with a hint of playful meaning—it’s simply an irresistible charm bomb. William Foster’s voice naturally carried a kind of enchanting power; that low yet clear quality itself was highly distinctive. Along with his unique accent handling, he could always invisibly stir the listener’s emotions, tempting people to continuously reminisce on all possibilities implied in his words. Her mind quickly went into overdrive, thinking the "black technology" software she just used could be perfectly suited for a special attempt. Given such a powerful tool, why not take full advantage of it? She swiftly put her idea into practice. First, she extracted William Foster’s voice sample from her phone, then inputted this precious data into the software for transformation. As expected, the program ran smoothly and flawlessly, perfectly simulating the various characters he interpreted in the script. In this way, the entire drama instantly brimmed with his vocal characteristics. Lying in bed, listening to the familiar yet unfamiliar tones in her ears, Clara Bennett’s mood was unusually complex. The originally dull text, after processing, shone with a different kind of brilliance, making the plot itself more engaging. However, she quickly realized the following content slightly exceeded her expectations. Some plot settings were boldly suggestive, filled with ambiguous hues. Sure enough, a particularly prominent emotionally entangled passage soon emerged. At that moment, Clara Bennett’s face flushed as red as a boiled shrimp, burning hot and unendurable. She hastily extended her hand to grasp the blanket corner, burying her face deeply in the soft comfortable bedding to hide her embarrassed expression. William Foster’s voice was indeed incredibly alluring, but when used to describe such intimate and subtle relationships, it had a devastating level of impact. Each note seemed to strum heartstrings, resonating with sensory nerves, making her heartbeat accelerate, her chest heave unceasingly. The whole person as if teetering on the edge of flames, engulfed in surging heat waves, hard to bear... Finally, she simply couldn’t take it any longer. Clara Bennett’s face turned beet-red, her heart raced, as if something was tumbling wildly in her chest; she hurriedly reached out to shut off the phone screen, then let out a long sigh of relief. That spy movie script segment kept swirling before her eyes, especially where William Foster proposed amendments, directly making her head swell with thoughts aplenty. That night, Clara Bennett tossed and turned, finally drifting off into a hazy dream. She dreamt a dream exceedingly real and heart-thumping. Every scene in the dream was rife with an ambiance of ambiguity, that subtle feeling made her heart hard to settle. In the dream, Clara Bennett oddly returned to the night she first met William Foster. The pivotal moment that altered her life’s trajectory. Yet this time, things were entirely different from reality. In the dream, their identities strangely aligned with the roles in the script, becoming lovers deeply attracted to each other.