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... e lights off.
Only the glint of blood shimmered in the glass held by the man lounging in the velvet armchair. He sat cross-legged, swirling the crimson liquid as though it were wine, savoring the scent with an aristocratic grace.
A sudden shift of shadows—then a blur materialized beside him.
A kneeling figure appeared, clad in black from head to toe.
"My Lord," the figure said, head bowed.
The man didn’t look. He simply raised the glass to his lips and too ...
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