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The wine glass sat empty on the table as Clair set down his utensils with satisfaction. The plates and bowls in front of him had been cleaned, down to the last drop of stew and the last crumb of black bread.
“If there are leftovers… Our owner will make sure he has a good chat with you.”
The maid’s words echoed in Clair’s mind. Although they came from the mouth of an ordinary woman without any cultivation, they still sent a chill down Clair’s spine.
Yeager, the Eigh ...
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