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In a secluded alley in the Capital City, a carriage stood quietly. The coachman had long since disappeared. At some unknown point, they had been surrounded. The man leading them wore inconspicuous grey clothes, his long, messy hair obscuring half his face. The exposed half looked stiff and ferocious. A vengeful, cold light shot from his one visible eye. Even though the setting sun, not yet vanished in the west, still cast a faint warmth, it seemed to turn bone-chillingly cold upon his ...
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