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... wkward situation, even the air seemed thin.

Nathan Moore’s voice resounded once more, low and magnetic, as pleasant as a cello.

"Let’s talk about you, why do you want Ariana Evans’s hair?"

Titus Zane abruptly averted his gaze, his fine eyebrows also knitting slightly, subconsciously looking towards the other three people in the private room, his European eyes visibly filled with caution and panic.

"Don’t worry, they can’t hear us," said the low, magnetic voice, as ...

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“What the fuck? What is going on? Have I completely lost it?”

As I stare panicky at the dot unable to decide what to do, the white dot disappears and a line of text appears in its place.

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[…12%...13%...14%...]

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