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... inside this limo was a suffocating cocoon of luxury, something majority of the people couldn’t enjoy even if they work hard for the rest of their lives.
But for Kurosaki Kirei, at this moment, it felt more like a prison of agony.
He was slumped against the leather seat, his breathing shallow and ragged, every bump in the road sent a fresh, searing hot spike of pain through his mangled wrist, where the bone had been jaggedly displaced by Seijirou’s casual, monstrous strength.
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