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... d I remember this man more clearly than I thought.


“I hate her.”


The face of the man who murmured hatred turned red, reminiscent of a day in the prison.


A fun and peaceful time.


“I see.”


I struggled to open my mouth. To be honest, I didn’t really want to answer that.


This was Iana’s answer, not as a stranger in a maid outfit. And I had no intention of bringing out the buried story again.


It’s better to forget the ...

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