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... splintered under the grip of a hand that resembled an iron claw. Wood chips fell from what appeared to be an otherwise fair and delicate hand.

Sitting beside the table was a man in a purple brocade robe, draped in a black cloak. His beauty was almost too striking for a man, more akin to a woman's grace. His pale skin seemed so tender that it could drip water, his nose sharp and high, and his eyes bright like stars in the night sky. His eyebrows arched gracefully like silkworms, and his p ...

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