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...

Looked at himself in the mirror above the desk, half-fogged, frame cracked at the corner. His face wasn’t tired. Not yet. But it was close.

There was a twitch under his left eye. Small. Constant.

His reflection didn’t blink.

Rikta said aloud, "You’ve fought better."

The mirror didn’t answer.

He laughed once, quiet, short, a little bitter.

"You’ve looked better."

He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, wiped the skin once, then held the ...

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