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... ked at Clara. She didn’t flinch away, though her eyes had that tired gleam, the one you only see when someone has been smiling too long to hide the exhaustion.
"They want to bury me with fake patients," she said in, calm voice, but I caught the sharpness hiding inside it. "Cheaper healers lined up outside, throwing out treatments that look flashy. They make the crowd laugh and clap while my work is dismissed as too slow, too careful. Then, when the fake patients leave my place, they go w ...
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