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... realise it.
“Ah.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing. I’m afraid nothing is coming to mind.”
What was he talking about? Amor pouted before smiling weakly.
“If I do as you say, how much longer can I live for?”
The wrist that was revealed under his fluttering white clothing was thinner than a pencil. His fingers were also thin and delicate like the branches of white birch trees.
“I’m not sure.”
He reached out to the row of plants beside him and fiddled with their ...
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