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... hrough a sky choked with gray clouds, its emaciated rays filtering through the arms of long-dead trees. The light glared down across the lifeless ground, spilling over everything.
And within that dying light it found a face.
A delicate one.
Half-buried in cracked soil lay Mikoto. A faint groan escaped him—a sound born from profound annoyance—as his eyelashes fluttered open, revealing blood-red irises filled with annoyance. His brows knit together immediately.
"Tch ...
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