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... alous courtesan, and spilled golden light over the city like honey over a warm thigh. It was a new day—and Henry’s cheeks were already tense.

In the mirror of the dressing chamber, Henry stood bare-chested, towel secured at his hips, breathing in deep, slow counts. Around him floated enchanted puffballs that dabbed his skin with confidence oil and whispered motivational thirst-quotes like:

> "Real kings don’t chase. They strut, and everything follows."

> "Your booty ...

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