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... ning ground. His presence was quiet, but the shift in atmosphere was immediate — like the change in air before a storm.

He wore flowing robes with red-and-gold embroidery, the symbol of the clan stitched just above his chest. His beard was neatly trimmed, and despite his age, his posture was as straight as a blade.

Clarissa straightened. "Elder Kazuo," she said with respect.

Miles turned and gave a short bow. "Elder Kazuo."

The old man’s sharp eyes studied him for ...

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