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“Mirine, are you okay?”
Mirine hands were covered with scars. Even though she was working in the fields, the wounds on her hands never healed. However, she was confident in her sewing skills and moved the needle skillfully.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you should work so much.”
Malfi, a middle-aged woman living in the same town, said with concern.
“I have to make some money. When Zint returns from the battlefield, he can go to.......He’ ...
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