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... The Sword That Purrs Beneath the Blood
A year and a half had evaporated like breath on frozen glass.
I was in the training chamber, shirtless and sweat-slick, flipping through data logs on my bio-pad while catching my breath. My latest sparring session with Kimchi had just concluded—a lovely little bout of ritualized murder-foreplay where she tried to remove my spleen and I tried not to disappoint her.
And today? She won.
Barely.
The scar across my chest ...
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