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Chapter 39: When the Pale Bride Smiled
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... nning down his face.
His hand shot to his side—reaching for the sword.
Nothing.
He blinked, vision adjusting.
The room was small. Wooden beams crossed overhead, darkened by years of smoke. The walls were earthen, packed hard and smooth, with cracks running along the edges where age had worn them down. A single small window let in pale morning light, the paper screen yellowed and torn in places.
The air smelled of straw and old wood.
He was lying on ...
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