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Chapter 11: Te Pressure
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Chapter 13: A Quiet Conversation
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... the one who visits." I had meant for my voice to carry a reprimanding tone, but instead, it was warm. Like the smile on my lips.
We both walked into the room whose door reminded me of the metal door that I had punched. The one that blistered my knuckles. They might’ve been of the same material.
Speaking of blistered knuckles. Surprisingly, I didn’t even have to flex my muscles. Those bastards were a lot weaker than I thought they would be. They couldn’t even stomach my pressure. ...
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