Mr. Law's Official Announcement: He is a Wife-Doting Fanatic!

Cecilia looked complexly at Claire Sinclair as she walked to the center of the room.

—Although the role of the female lead was the most attractive, anyone with eyes could see that Claire Sinclair’s appearance didn’t suit the protagonist. It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful, but her beauty was too delicate and refined.

Back when Cecilia was drawing ”There are branches on the mountain” in prison, she envisioned Blossom Vaughn as an averagely attractive woman with bright eyes, strong-willed and somewhat androgynous.

Claire Sinclair had just mentioned in her self-introduction that she was a junior in the drama department and had no prior film experience, making the challenge of playing a misfit role significant.

...

Cecilia was deep in thought, pondering if Claire Sinclair failed the audition for the female lead, perhaps she could give her another chance to audition for the supporting role. All roads lead to Olaria; there’s no need to be obstinate.

Just then, the production assistant pressed the timer, gently reminding.

”Miss Sinclair, you have five minutes left. Begin your performance.”

”Okay.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Claire Sinclair’s eyes immediately changed. Her brows slightly furrowed, and she held her arms at her waist guardedly, as if she were cradling an invisible bundle.

—Director Chapman’s audition was rigorous. The initial open audition required miming, meaning this scene, where the character encounters bandits and is robbed, would solely rely on Claire’s imagination.

The bandits didn’t exist, and naturally, neither did the bundle in her arms.

Claire Sinclair still looked as she did earlier, but there was a subtle but noticeable tension of weariness and forced resilience reflected in her demeanor.

Yes, according to the storyline at this point, the protagonist had just escaped from a journey of prostitution and exile, so her state couldn’t be refreshingly spirited.

The imaginary bundle in her arms was the protagonist’s only belonging, a little silver coin after a journey of hardships, which she desperately needed to protect.

...

Cecilia noticed the initial change in Claire Sinclair and her eyes lit up slightly. Beside her, Director Chapman, who had been nonchalantly propping his legs up, slowly sat upright.

—The most crucial aspect of acting is believable details. It seemed this inexperienced junior might have a promising potential, everyone’s mind drifted to this thought.

Meanwhile, Claire Sinclair, moving wearily, suddenly seemed to sense the presence of a bandit ahead, and her slightly dimmed doe eyes suddenly widened.

”Don’t draw your knives... Big brother, spare me! I know the rules! But there’s only a few copper coins left in my bundle, they’re... they’re yours...”

Within moments, Claire Sinclair staggered back a few steps, her previously soft voice now deliberately lowered, becoming gently ambiguous in gender.

But this alone wasn’t enough.

Cecilia squinted, contemplating how Claire Sinclair would continue her performance.

Suddenly, Claire Sinclair seemed to bump into something. The high ponytail she had tied up in three minutes suddenly cascaded loose!

In that instant, her black hair flowed like a waterfall, exuding an enchanting beauty from her fatigued demeanor, though her brows and eyes clearly revealed a stunningly beautiful woman.

”Stay away!”

Almost simultaneously, Claire’s hand flung forward, as if hurriedly tossing the bundle away and being pushed to the ground.

”Die!”

Her right hand trembled as if grasping something, and her face displayed a fierce determination, fiercely thrusting forward.

Claire Sinclair stabbed repeatedly into thin air; her hand shook, yet her expression was fiercely incongruent.

—She had seized the knife from the bandits, killing them.

After several seconds, Claire panted heavily, stopping with her hair turned into a messy, sticky clump, sweat pouring down, deprived of beauty, leaving only sheer terror.

The woman collapsed entirely to the ground, in utter disarray.

Her throat caught on something, her gaze fixated with disbelief at what lay ahead.

Seemingly frightened by something, she stumbled, trying to stand but unable, even her legs slack.

—She had killed.

Someone who, in the twenty-first century, would require psychological preparation even to kill a living chicken, yet at such a life-and-death juncture, used her knowledge of medicine to pierce the opponent’s carotid artery.

White blade in, red blade out.

She wanted to scream or cry, but she couldn’t do anything.

Her eyes welled with tumultuous emotions like ocean waves, but tears failed to fall from her eyes.

Terror reaching its peak can paralyze a person.

Her face had turned as pale as snow, without makeup, and her lips were devoid of color.

...

The performance time had elapsed nearly four minutes; one minute remained.

Cecilia was dazzled, feeling that Claire performed excellently; she couldn’t avert her gaze since the moment Claire began acting, dropping the bundle and seizing the knife.

Finally, Claire forced herself to her feet, hurriedly reaching forward to retrieve the dropped bundle, her hand trembling as if picking up something, at the same time pulling out the murdering dagger and tucking it into her arms.

She stooped again, fumbling aimlessly through the air.

Evidently, she was counter-robbering; the bandits were dead, but there must be something valuable on them.

Claire uttered no lines, but it seemed the empty room contained a bleeding corpse.

After the snatch, she glanced once more in the previous direction, but she could no longer bother to bury him, only hastily fleeing.

She had to escape.

Claire, clutching those seized belongings, dashed haphazardly for the door.

—In chaotic times, who could afford to indulge?

Initially shaky, her movements became faster, her demeanor nearly numb, exuding a manly ruthlessness.

This type of gaze was utterly contrary to any fragile female label.

...

”Stop, time’s up!”

The production assistant swiftly halted the clock.

Simultaneously, Claire stood, her hair untidy, her face drenched with sweat, while her eyes held tears that didn’t fall.

But most impressively, Claire’s immersed demeanor vanished, and she relaxed.

Cecilia was utterly captivated, unable to resist raising her hand in applause.

”Well done!”

”Thank you.”

Claire’s smile was subtle and humble as she nodded towards Cecilia, then turned her attention to Director Chapman.

Whether the audition was successful mainly depended on the director’s judgment—