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... the city, its neon sign flickering like a dying star.
The kind of place where names didn't matter, where the smell of smoke, whiskey, and bad decisions lingered in the air.
As I stepped inside, the room fell into a heavy silence.
Eyes darted toward me—fear, recognition, and something deeper.
They knew who I was.
Or maybe, they just sensed what I had become.
I didn't stop.
I moved toward the back of the bar, where a lone figure sat, bathed ...
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