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... workshop, Ivaim let out a weary sigh.

His hands were still tinged with grease, and the smell of oil seemed to cling to his clothes no matter how many times he wiped them.

The constant hum of machinery and the rhythmic clank of tools had become background noise by now, but it didn't make the exhaustion fade any quicker.

He glanced at the clock above the workbench—it was nearly closing time.

The shop had started winding down. Harvin, the gruff mechanic boss, was pac ...

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