Another busy day at work.
The reserved smile on Bennett’s face vanished the mont he sat in the car, replaced by deep exhaustion, both physical and ntal.
His wife had called his office today, essentially to say that he hadn’t visited her father in a while, making her feel unwarranted neglect and treatnt.
Lord above, everyone knows who the strong party truly is, but Bennett has to silently endure it.
They had an argunt—mostly with Bennett listening to his wife’s complaints, then apologizing and bearing it.
The bank’s promotion requirents are extrely stringent; it’s not just about having appreciation and capability, especially in the critical role of the credit departnt.
In such a position, one can have many small faults, and may not even be particularly capable, but must possess two qualities that so find absurd, yet are societal norms.
First, caution.
Second, a complete acceptance of social responsibilities.
The first is straightforward: don’t take excessive risks. But this isn’t entirely up to them; the bank has a dedicated risk assessnt departnt to advise superiors on the foreseeable and unforeseeable consequences of various decisions.
The second is less intuitive, but its core is simple: to have a complete family unit, including their own family, the next level up, and a full spectrum of social relations.
Federation sociologists, in collaboration with so cri research institutions, have concluded from studying nurous cases over the years.
An individual with stable family relations post-adulthood is significantly less likely to commit cris compared to those with absent family relations, no marriage, children, or social interactions.
Marriage and family are forms of social responsibility, which, phrased gently and acceptably, imply personal responsibility that curbs one’s behavior.
In reality, this is a shackle society imposes on individuals as it evolves, a shackle well-suited to modern civilization, ensnaring individuals in an invisible net until they beco a part of it.
Bennett, for the ti being, didn’t plan on having too many conflicts with that woman; coming to Sabin City was his perceived life turning point. Once he replaced Jogriman, he would consider divorcing his wife.
Anyway, he didn’t have much to his na, and giving it all away wasn’t a concern. From then, he could start anew.
Thinking about this lifted his spirits a bit.
As the car erged from the underground garage, several pigeons fluttered from the sidewalk garbage bin into the sky.
There were fewer birds in the city; they rarely encountered anyone feeding them and had to search the cold winter for unlikely food sources.
This harsh winter brought not only cold to people but suffering to animals.
Bennett’s car slowly parked across from the strip club, he wore a collared trench coat and a wide-brimd hat pulled low; no one paid him any attention, much less soone entering a strip bar.
Yesterday here, he had a peculiar experience; upon returning, reminiscing about everything, the conclusion was rather bleak.
He realized he couldn’t recall his first girlfriend’s face anymore. Under the ravages of that rciless bastard ti, the face that once appeared nightly in his dreams had faded and blurred.
The mory of that face he thought he’d never forget was now so indistinct it pained him.
He had truly believed that love would never fade, but clearly, he was mistaken.
Until...the girl’s face gradually replaced that face. He wasn’t sure if he was rembering or if the two were indeed very similar.
Family conflict, workplace intrigue, he shouldn’t frequent this place, but instinctively he wanted to see that girl.
After showing his VIP card, he called for the girl again in the VIP area. Today she had on a different outfit—a pink dress dotted with small yellow flowers.
At her first glimpse, Bennett felt a mont of disorientation, recalling so fragnt from a certain past ti—a clear day at the turn of spring to sumr, chasing the wind, the wind chasing a girl, joy filled his heart...
Joyful tis are always short-lived. Satisfied, Bennett took out his wallet, counted out twenty dollars, then paused and added another ten, handing the thirty dollars to the girl.
He could give her more; deep down he knew this was rely a transaction for happiness. Whether pursuing a certain illusion or not wanting the girl to beco greedy with his generosity, he restrained himself from giving more.
As he placed the money in the girl’s hands, he paused, noticing the bracelet on her wrist.
An old silver bracelet, tarnished in places, but one Bennett instantly recognized.
He grabbed her wrist, but she pulled away.
Her expression turned indifferent as she stuffed the money into her chest, "Sorry, sir, the service is over."
Her deanor switched from one second to the next, like cold water dousing Bennett.
Yes, she had completed her service, and by protocol, could leave.
But Bennett was anxious; the bracelet perfectly matched his mory, the first thing he’d bought with all his spare change for a girl, a symbol of his purest, most beautiful sentint!
He still rembered clearly, on the second clover of the bracelet were initials, his and his first love’s.
"Sorry, I scared you..." Bennett explained, eyes locked on the bracelet he increasingly believed was his, "Where did you get your bracelet?"
The girl shook her head, "Not your concern, sir."
She packed up, though there was little to gather, and about to leave, Bennett hastily pulled several twenty-dollar bills from his wallet, "One more session!"
The girl eyed Bennett, took the money, "If you can’t, I won’t refund you either."
Bennett sat back on the sofa, nodding. The girl wouldn’t leave right away, allowing him to calm down, "No problem, but you must answer my question, because I’m your..."
Rolling her eyes, the girl started anew, soon Bennett learned the bracelet’s origin—a gift from her mother, even confirming the initial engravings.
His calm heart stirred again; family tensions made him yearn even more for that original, untarnished love, now almost a sacred aspiration inside him!
Then she revealed sothing he wished he hadn’t heard.
"You know my mom?" she asked, lighting a cigarette after the second session.
Bennett, a bit embarrassed, nodded, "I used to be good friends with your mother."
The girl’s smirk irked Bennett, "I’m not joking; I really knew your mother."
Raising a brow, she nodded, "Yeah, out of ten n near my house, at least half would say the sa...", she had a sense of humor, though her words weren’t funny, "and they’d certainly know her more intimately than you."
After a long silence, Bennett said the wrong thing, "You shouldn’t be doing this!"
"You look down on ..." she discarded her cigarette, packing. "I know. Look at your coat, how much does it cost? Three hundred, five hundred? A thousand?"
"Eight hundred eighty," Bennett quietly answered.
Her disdain and sarcasm grew, "Eight hundred eighty, sir. Do you know how much I must...to make that?," she spat, anger overtaking her packing.
Brutishly cramming her belongings into her bag, "I’m sure that’s one of many in your wardrobe, so why judge with your morals?"
She looked at him, "Think I liked you...?", giving the finger, cursed, and stord out.
Bennett hadn’t realized his words were worse than so actions when a burly man entered, smiling uneasily at Bennett on the sofa.
"Sir, respect everyone, I won’t get physical, nor do you want trouble, and we won’t et again, right?"
That night, Bennett had insomnia, only sleeping at the final hours, dreaming a perplexing dream, mories rging, leaving him drained.
At dawn, waking up, he resolved to change that girl.
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