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... ps on umbrellas carried by passersby.

Hestia held a folder over her head, gripping the coarse, rusted railing with one hand as she hurried down the stairs.

Her black shoes splashed through puddles, making rhythmic clacking sounds, while her over-the-knee black stockings, dampened by the rain, appeared a darker shade.

After some hurried steps, she finally entered the inner structure of the atrium, safe from the rain.

Lowering her folder and shaking off the water dr ...

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