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... muttered. "What really happened?"
"Can I help you?" Instead of Zhoal, a man in his forties came out from inside. He limped and used a walking stick. "Sorry, but I can't accept custom orders with my condition. You can only buy what is already on display here."
I was silent, observing that man with a relatively thick beard and black hair.
"He's not a shapeshifter," Ayre whispered as if she could read my mind. "And strangely enough, I don't feel that discomfort anymore."
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