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... doors of Roselle's mansion, I already felt the finality in my stride. This would be the last time I'd stand under the same roof as her—not as an ally, not even as a guest.

The next time fate would draw us together, swords would be raised, not glasses. We both knew it. And perhaps... that's why she had that bottle of our favorite aged scotch already waiting on the table.

She stood by the window, dressed in obsidian black, the sunlight glinting off her long dark coat like polished ...

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