His Erased Song, Her Reborn Voice

e, pressing in on me from all sides, a wa

rom the speakers. It was Scarlett' s, a perfect, studio-polished product of technology and

of Scarlett overlaid on my body, my voice digitally reshaped into hers. For six months, he' d been systematical

y in-ear monitor, icy and sharp. "Don't br

pushed past the modulation, letting a raw note escape, the hologram flickered vi

. "What the hell do you think you

lming nausea – a feeling I' d been ignoring for weeks. The reali

of the man actively erasing my identity,