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"Ma-Master, are you talking about the An-Anya?"

Nayan, in his different colored disguise, asked him, the poor, crazy guy trembling in his place. Even to him, the idea of what Azrail spoke of can't easily be registered in his mind. To this, Azrail, sitting on the chair with Valencia in his lap, looked down at the trembling man as he spoke.

"Yup, the very one."

To this, all Nayan could do was hold back the sheer chaos that filled his mind. Why does this kid ke ...

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