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... he cold, dim reality of the mansion.
But something had shifted in Daffodil.
She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, but her eyes were no longer vacant. They were filled with a flicker of something—something desperate, something hopeful in a twisted way.
She sat up suddenly, her movements sharp, almost frantic. Without a word, she sprang from her bed and rushed to the corner of the room, where her desk was littered with paper.
She grabbed at the sheets, her fin ...
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