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... do was somehow survive the rest of my childhood without being worshipped as a living weapon of destruction.
...Yeah.
That was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
At least the maids weren't terrified of me anymore. That was progress. Instead of looking at me like I was an unstoppable force of doom, they now hesitantly regarded me as an actual baby. A very important, possibly magical, slightly terrifying baby but a baby nonetheless.
That was good.
That ...
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