Chapter 1393: Chapter 1393 Anxiously Killing Me
With news of Atra Blanc, Clyde Summers’ health quickly improved.
The youth has its advantages, recovering astonishingly fast. Just two days ago, he was languid and listless, and two days later, he was that spirited young man again.
The driver drove Clyde Summers to meet Atra Blanc.
It was in another city, a place considered her mother’s hometown, but Atra Blanc didn’t disturb her uncle and aunt. Instead, she privately begged her cousin to find her a job.
She arrived suddenly, and her cousin found it difficult to find a suitable job for her right away. Luckily, her cousin worked as a ticket seller at the theater and thought of a way, arranging for Atra Blanc to do some odd jobs at the theater.
By the time Clyde Summers found her, it was already very late. The theater backstage was empty, with only Atra Blanc there.
Her job was quite varied, mainly helping to tidy up costumes. She’d take the dirty ones to clean, the old and broken ones to repair, and then neatly arrange them according to their numbers. The matching belts, shoes, and socks also needed sorting and washing.
Seeing Atra Blanc, Clyde Summers’ first reaction was to breathe a sigh of relief.
He had been worrying himself to death during this period.
Fearful during the day, plagued by nightmares at night, dreaming of that little fool getting deceived and robbed outside, especially with her being so beautiful, what if she encountered villains and ruffians?
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her being dragged into an alley by some greasy and sleazy man.
It was truly nerve-wracking.
Seeing her now, safe and sound, with healthy rosy cheeks, he could finally relax...
Atra Blanc turned around, holding a tall stack of costumes. The stack was so high that it blocked her view, forcing her to move in the direction she felt was right.
After walking ten or so steps, she collided unexpectedly with someone, causing the heap of costumes to fall to the ground, revealing Clyde Summers’ face.
Atra Blanc froze, staring at him, blankly.
Clyde Summers bent down, picking up the costumes piece by piece, asking her, "Where should they go?"
Atra Blanc hesitated a moment, lifting a hand to point toward two slightly worn-out baskets not far away.
"Are you washing all these clothes by yourself?" Clyde Summers walked over with the costumes, asking.
Atra Blanc looked at him for a moment, joined him with the rest of the costumes, and answered softly, "There are washing machines in the theater."
"Having washing machines is still exhausting, so many clothes, put them in, take them out, hang them one by one... After they’re dry, you have to gather them, then fold them..." Clyde Summers frowned, as if she was suffering in this place.
Atra Blanc silently listened, then after a while, asked him, "Why are you here?"
Clyde Summers replied coolly, "You deceived me into loving you and manipulated me until I’m dizzy. Don’t I have the right to come here and demand payment?"
Usually, his slick words would prompt Atra Blanc to shyly rebuke him, but this time, she remained exceptionally quiet.
Clyde Summers didn’t know what was wrong with her, asking, "When are you going back?"
"I’m not going back." Atra Blanc said, lowering her head.
"Not going back?" Clyde Summers pursued, "Do you plan on staying in this lousy place forever?"
"It’s nice here, and if forever means forever, so be it..."
"Bullshit!" Clyde Summers cursed furiously, "We’re not some star-crossed lovers playing out a magpie bridge meeting! The distance between us kills me every time we meet!"
Atra Blanc’s eyes grew red, she bit her lower lip, remaining silent.
Clyde Summers watched her for a moment, his eyes clouded with gloom. Suddenly, he turned around and began rummaging through the boxes by the dressing mirror.
Atra Blanc was startled, "What are you doing? Don’t rummage through their things!"
Clyde Summers ignored her, grabbed a bottle of makeup cream, and began applying it to his face.
"You can’t use other people’s stuff! Hey! Stop it right now!"
Atra Blanc ran over to stop him, but Clyde Summers tossed the makeup cream aside, grabbing false eyebrows and mustaches from the display rack and sticking them onto his face.
He then took two wig caps with silver strands from the shelf, putting one on himself and the other onto Atra Blanc, and dragged her before the mirror—
"Does a damn five-year age difference matter? When I’m eighty, you’ll be eighty-five. Will the gap really be that noticeable?!"