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... the trail.

Inside, the brat—that merchant’s daughter—was still glued to Hazuki like a barnacle. Quiet now, but clearly refusing to leave his side.

He squinted, chewing slowly on his dried root stick, the wind tugging lightly at his beard.

Troublesome little lass.

Always talking. Always clinging.

What a pain.

Just because her father’s one of the biggest merchants in the whole damn continent.

If he remembered right, she was the youngest daugh ...

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