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... p>
The newly added injury on her wrist was glaringly red, yet she acted as if nothing was amiss, casually rolling up her sleeve, seemingly unfazed by the pain that the wound's friction might bring.
Perhaps she noticed my gaze fixated on her wound. With a sly smile, she said,
"This is fake~"
She winked at me, lightly rubbing her wrist with a finger dipped in wine, and most of the red color faded away.
I was slightly surprised, while she seemed quite pleased with ...
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