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... fore it creaked open.

The guard stepped in, his expression unreadable—blank, like a statue carved for function, not feeling.

"It’s time," he said flatly.

Then, without warning, he tossed something toward me.

I barely caught it—cold metal, heavier than I expected.

A gun.

Sleek. Matte black. Clean, sharp edges. It looked simple at first glance, but the weight, the grip... no, this wasn’t ornamental. This wasn’t for show. It was made for one thing: ki ...

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