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... wer to an unsolved riddle was written in the grain of the wood above. His fingers tapped absently against his forearm, and every now and then, his brow would tighten, lips forming the beginnings of a question that never left his mouth. His eyes shifted toward Delo again, and he narrowed them.

There was something about that kid.

He couldn't place it.

"Delo… Delo… where have I…?"

He murmured to himself so quietly it barely touched the air, but his foot began tapping ...

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