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Chapter 3— The Wingless Heir
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... ugh the window and brushed across Noa’s face, waking him from sleep.
He raised his hand to block the light, muttering in a tired, irritated voice,
"Morning already...?"
He sat up. The same stillness filled the room — sometimes peaceful, sometimes unbearably dull.
Rising from bed, he walked toward the wardrobe and changed his clothes.
A knock echoed at the door.
Noa turned toward it, his expression blank.
The door opened, and a red-haired ma ...
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