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... he sound of a whip, slowly awakening.
The first thing that came into view was a head of silver-gray short hair hanging to the shoulders.
The person’s back was facing her, skin a healthy wheat color, the muscles tense like a bow drawn to the limit, but covered in dense whip marks, making one’s heart tighten.
A wound ceaselessly seeped blood drops, which followed the lines of muscle downward, eventually pooling into a small puddle of blood at the waist.
When the per ...
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