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... like a cursed bat from the shed roof. His hair, whiter now, swayed with the wind, his eyes squinting at him like he was solving a puzzle.

"Brat, tell me the truth," the old man said with gravity that didn’t match the absurdity of his position. "You’re constipated, right?"

"...Huh?"

Crisaius flipped midair and landed beside him with an elegant thud that cracked the stone balcony beneath his feet.

He folded his arms behind his back and nodded solemnly. "Whenever yo ...

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