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... n, gazing at the man in front of him.

Soon his hand started trembling, and the ink that had gathered at the tip of the pen wobbled precariously before spreading a black stain on the white paper.

“Are you alright? Young Master.”

Surprised by this, the man in front of him, Isaiah, approached with concern.

“I’m... fine.”

“You don’t look well though.”

“It’s an illusion.”

Claude knew it was rude, but he scanned Isaiah Mullern from top to bottom. ...

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