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... swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Carlos stepped inside, his boots sinking into the plush, crimson carpet that muffled his footsteps. The air was warm, scented with expensive oils and the faint, sweet smell of roasted fruits. It was a world away from the cold, sterile atmosphere of the military camp he had just left.

A soft, melodious sound tickled his ears as he entered. It was the music of a harp, played with such delicate precision that it seemed to float in the air like perf ...

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