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... a rhythm that didn't belong to the room—like it was alive, like it could feel him staring back. His hand didn't shake. He wasn't scared.
He was ready.
Without a word, he crushed it between his fingers.
There was no explosion. No dramatic flash. Just a wave.
A warm current surged through him, not from the outside but from somewhere deeper—like something had crawled under his skin and started reading him, cell by cell, memory by memory.
He could feel it rifl ...
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