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... t be the end.
Even when he lost consciousness from the pain, he would eventually wake up.
The poison in his body grew stronger by the day, and his wretchedly persistent life endured it once again.
Morning came.
The wretched sun rose once more.
Another person had died. He had killed someone again.
It was the first time he had killed a child younger than himself.
A tiny one—who had just barely grown past infancy.
When exactly am I goi ...
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