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... e face once more. Despite blood dancing about everywhere, she didn’t die.

The Prince looked down on the dazed and bleeding Morian before speaking out loudly, “I shan’t be the one to judge you, but my fellow villagers will.”

He then stepped aside. Even the platinum-haired girl released her grip on Morian.

Before long, the villagers approached her from all sides. She looked at their expressions and her own complexion paled greatly.

“P-please, s-s-spare...!”

...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

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