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... his gaze fixed on the calendar mounted there. He wore a tank top, a short towel draped around his neck, his face drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling heavily.

He was currently in the living room of their apartment, located in one of the dystopian districts. The space was modest—just a simple couch, a table in the middle, a small kitchen with a tiny island, another table where they ate, and a TV mounted on the far wall.

Everything was plain, even the decorations. But this ...

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