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... erged from the palace.

Instead, she dispatched Dmitri.

“Darn it, look at this peel’s thickness, Miss Isabelle. At this rate, you won’t find a husband. You’ve practically butchered the fruit, not thinly sliced!” remarked Dmitri.(Dmitri)

“Isn’t there a way to carve it even thinner?” (Isabelle)

“Oh? Want me to show you?” (Dmitri)

Dmitri snatched away the apples and began deftly running his knife over them. Literally, it looked more like stroking than peeling.

Sud ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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