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... rather, a wolf that could do magic.
I didn’t know how to face my grandmother. She had always hated the half of me that was my father’s. Caning, burning, silver whips, smuggled ‘holy water’... I couldn’t even remember how many punishments or ‘purification’ I’d suffered.
Obviously, all these methods were useless. The witch’s blood, which my grandmother denounced as ‘trash’, finally took root and sprouted in my body.
I was brought to the palace and met with the Lycan King. ...
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