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... and the moon hung high.
On the pitch-black edge of the cliff, the Little Witch hugged her knees, her head resting on them, a look of utter bewilderment on her face.
Why? I was clearly preparing to do something bad. But each time the critical moment came, I couldn’t help but relent. Could it be? Do I really lack the talent to become a great Great Demon God?
At that thought, sadness surged within her. Her lips pouted, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks.
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