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... emotions conveyed by the collectors at that time, as well as in the words, all expressed that the Vogt was what he could give The best immigrant battleship, and even said that "there is no civilization within the rancher's sphere of influence that dares to sell immigrant battleships to us".

But this time, when faced with the same question in memory, the collector did not give such an answer.

He was even asked if he had better antiques.

So, the Vogt is still traded from this ...

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“Y-young master, the Lord is requesting your presence.”

I looked at myself in the mirror as a maid's voice, laced with trepidation, reached my ears.

“Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“I understand, y-young master.”

I paid no mind to her quivering presence, my gaze fixed on my reflection.

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Damn it. Seriously? I collapsed, leaving the twenty servants to hastily lift me and place me onto the litter. For me, it felt more like a stretcher. There I was, sprawled on it like some mountain, panting heavily.

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I ordered while cursing this hefty body under my breath.

“Oh, come, come, my dear child. How was your day?”

I glanced at the middle-aged man, his face exuding warmth and care.

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“I'm alright, Dad.”

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“What's going on, Dad?”

Seriously, why would he summon this big old hippo over to his quarters? There's gotta be a reason for it....

“Your fiancee is coming tomorrow”

……………………………………………………………

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