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... aughters, Crimson returned to his dimly lit dwelling. The encounter lingered in his mind, stirring emotions he couldn't quite name—fragments of empathy tangled with the ever-present weight of guilt. Sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, he closed his eyes and resumed his meditation. The muted sounds of Kuchinashi filtered through the walls, blending with the turbulence of his thoughts. He sought clarity, but his mind twisted and turned, refusing to settle.

A week passed like this. Each ...

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