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Chapter 236: The Eye of the Storm I
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... imself staring at a blank page. He thought of the simple joy of his disguised days in Barcelona, of walking through the Gothic Quarter with his siblings, of being just another face in the crowd.
That version of himself, the anonymous phantom, felt like a distant memory, a ghost from another life. He was now a spectacle, a commodity, a living embodiment of someone else’s colossal mistake. The exhaustion was profound, a soul-deep weariness that had nothing to do with physical exertion.
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