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... either.
It was the same wrongness I had learned to respect. A pressure at the edge of my awareness, faint but insistent, like a bruise being pressed from the inside. Failure Converter did not flare nor warn.
It noticed.
That was worse.
I sat up slowly in the narrow bed of the inn, heart already beating faster than it should have. The room was dark, the window cracked open just enough to let in the distant noise of the capital at night. Somewhere below, laughter ca ...
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