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... ng>
The boy shrieked as I stood in the middle of his dorm room. "Y-You’re not Master!"
He pointed at me, trembling. Such a fragile thing. I remained still, watching him with indifference. Does this generation not prefer to wear clothes in their dorms.
"Hmm? Of course I am not Charlotte," I said calmly.
He stuttered, standing and bowing so fast he nearly fell over. "G-Greetings, Your Highness."
Finally, some recognition.
The usual panic followed—the ...
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