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... en her hand touched the handle.

I heard the faint scrape of metal, and right before it turned, she muttered to herself.

"It seems I forgot something... right, the dinner!"

Her voice sounded annoyed, sharp, like she was scolding herself.

The handle didn’t move.

Instead, her steps hurried away from the bathroom, faster this time, dirt kicking under her shoes as she rushed back toward the inn.

The back door creaked open, then slammed shut.

I l ...

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