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... itating to make a move. A card had appeared in the palm of the hand that she had clasped against her chest.
"What else could it be?"
Dekan, now back in human form, had a disdainful smile on his lips.
On his head was the Crown of Suffering, in his hand the Cursed Doll, and standing behind him was the Ruined Poet; he seemed like an emperor shrouded in a black mist.
It was the domineering aura of an absolute winner.
It was as if in his eyes, Isabel posed no t ...
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