HCB Chapter 97 Let this humiliation... this anger... this hatred... come even more fiercely!
Chapter 97 Let this humiliation... this anger... this hatred... come even more fiercely!
Evelyn froze, her well-trained body instinctively wanting to retaliate.
But her long-standing obedience to her superiors and the system, as well as the idea that "she had to endure everything in order to pass the training," bound her hands and feet like invisible chains.
"Is this... part of the training?" Her voice was dry.
"Yes, the most important part!" A cold smile curled at the corner of Sean's lips. "You must first 'desensitize' yourself. You must learn how to protect yourself when you are at a complete disadvantage, or... how to take advantage of it."
What followed were fragmented and humiliating memories:
...Sean's disgusting touch, which carried an air of assessment and possession.
...His heavy breaths brushed against her ear as he whispered:
"Remember this feeling, remember this sense of powerlessness. Either let it destroy you, or learn to control it."
...She was like a soulless puppet, completely at their mercy, her fingernails digging deep into her palms until they bled.
...The cold, hard floor of the training room pressed against her back, and the glaring lights overhead made her dizzy.
……
After Sean finished, he straightened his clothes, his tone returning to its usual cold, businesslike manner:
"The report will record that this was a necessary psychological and physiological stress resistance training session."
"Congratulations, Evelyn, you've passed!"
"Now, you've truly entered this field."
She didn't cry or make a scene; she simply got up silently, dressed, tidied herself up, and then left.
She graduated from the training base with excellent grades and became a full-fledged "Nightingale".
But only she knew that something had died completely that night.
She wrapped her heart in layers of steel and ice, burying deep within the wounded, utterly filthy and humiliated girl.
"Necessary training..."
"A woman's most important weapon..."
"That cold light...that rough floor...that nauseating feel..."
"I am merely a tool, an object that can be 'used' and 'evaluated' inside and out..."
This emotion is not anger or guilt directed outwards, but rather an extreme sense of humiliation, self-loathing, and deep hatred for the entire system directed inwards.
It was like a highly corrosive venom, silently eroding her soul for many years.
At this moment, in order to gain power, she personally tore open this thickest and hardest scar.
That dark torrent, suppressed for too long and mixed with extreme humiliation, icy anger, self-denial and deep hatred, broke through my defenses in an instant!
"Ugh!" Evelyn's stomach clenched violently, and she began to gag.
Immediately, a ruthless glint flashed in Evelyn's eyes, not directed outwards, but towards herself and towards this memory.
"Great...that's the feeling..."
She screamed inwardly, "This humiliation...this anger...this hatred...come on! No more running away, no more suppressing it! I'll turn them all into my strength!"
........................
Anna sat alone in the corner of the dormitory, her eyes closed, her long eyelashes casting shadows on her pale cheeks.
For her, the deepest negative emotions stemmed from the ballet theater she once considered everything, and from the two people she once trusted most.
That was at the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow, where she, as the principal dancer, was fully preparing for a performance of the classic "Swan Lake".
This is the pinnacle of every ballet dancer's dream.
Her boyfriend, Sergei, is one of the theater's artistic directors, while Margarita is her inseparable best friend since dance school and one of the troupe's principal dancers.
She originally thought she had a perfect life: the peak of her career, a considerate boyfriend, and sincere friendships.
That afternoon, rehearsal ended early, and she wanted to surprise Sergei by bringing him his favorite honey cake to his office.
The door was ajar, and from inside came ambiguous sounds and familiar, Margarita's coquettish laughter.
She pushed open the door and saw a scene that instantly froze her blood—
Sergei and Margarita, disheveled, were entangled on the sofa.
Shock, disgust, and a sense of betrayal overwhelmed her like a tsunami.
The cake box in her hand fell to the ground with a "thud," splattering cream all over the floor.
Sergei hurriedly got up, his face showing panic and shame.
But Margarita, the woman Anna regarded as a sister, calmly adjusted her dance dress, even touching up her lipstick in front of the mirror, before turning around with a smile on her face that Anna had never seen before, a smile that mixed pity and smugness.
"My dear Anna," Margarita's voice was sickeningly sweet, "don't be so surprised."
"Art needs passion, and Sergei needs a muse who can inspire him even more!"
"Your Black Swan dance... was too stiff, lacking real, wild charm."
Sergei remained silent, tacitly accepting everything.
Anna felt ice-cold all over, as if the whole world was collapsing.
But deeper damage was yet to come.
A few days later, the company announced the lead performer for the new season of Swan Lake.
It wasn't Anna, it was Margarita!
Art director Sergei's official explanation was: "Margarita has a deeper understanding of the character, and her emotional expression is more nuanced and...destructive."
At that moment, Anna understood.
This is not just an emotional betrayal, but also a precise attack on one's career.
Her beloved boyfriend and her most trusted friend conspired to steal her love, trample on her friendship, and now they want to take away the stage glory she cherishes as her life.
She remembered Margarita, after announcing the results, wearing the gown that should have been hers, gracefully twirling in front of her and saying in a voice only the two of them could hear:
"See, Anna? Whether it's the stage or the man, the best will always be mine. You... you're always just a little bit short."
The excruciating pain of being stabbed in the back by the closest person, the despair of having your dreams ruthlessly crushed just when they're within reach, the humiliation of being powerless to retaliate against the smug boast of a betrayer...
All the emotions instantly coiled around her heart like poisonous vines, choking her so much that she could barely breathe.
"How dare they..."
"Using my feelings, my dreams, as bargaining chips in their dirty deal..."
"On my stage, wearing my dance dress, mocking my failures..."
This intense, mixed negative emotion—a mixture of anger at betrayal, sorrow at shattered dreams, and a deep-seated sense of humiliation—erupted within her.
Anna's body began to tremble violently, the veins on her beautiful neck became visible, and her clenched fists turned white at the knuckles, as if she wanted to crush something.
Tears welled up uncontrollably, not because of weakness, but because of the pain and hatred that almost tore her apart.
But just as her emotions were about to spiral out of control, Anna bit her lower lip hard until she tasted a hint of blood.
With the willpower of a ballerina, with the ultimate control over her body, she forcibly restrained and compressed all that surging anger, flowing sorrow, and deep-seated humiliation!
She sees them as the most difficult emotions to control on stage, but this time, she will condense them into the most lethal power.
A few seconds later, Anna's trembling gradually subsided.
She slowly raised her head and wiped away the tears on her face.
Those once gentle, lake-like grey-blue eyes were now like the permafrost of Siberia—cold, hard, with a dark flame burning deep within…