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... the old Count, lay on the bed with his eyes closed.
His white hair was in disarray across his haggard and aged face, his chest rising and falling slightly, and a faint sound echoing from his nose, evidently immersed in a dream.
Caitina glanced over, tiptoeing towards the desk, where a few pieces of parchment and a brass bookmark were scattered.
Caitina ignored the items on top and turned her gaze to the wooden cabinet below the desk.
She bent down, moved the cabin ...
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