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... ay 20: Crawley Town vs. Bradford City (Home)

Boxing Day carried a chill that cut straight to the bone, slipping through jackets and scarves like they were nothing. Frost clung to the Broadfield Stadium pitch, defiant even after the players' warm-up had torn into it. Every breath hung in the air, heavy and fleeting, like smoke from a fire struggling to spark. Yet the stands hummed with a quiet, stubborn life. Families bundled in thick coats, kids gripping hot chocolate with both hands, no ...

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“Y-young master, the Lord is requesting your presence.”

I looked at myself in the mirror as a maid's voice, laced with trepidation, reached my ears.

“Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“I understand, y-young master.”

I paid no mind to her quivering presence, my gaze fixed on my reflection.

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“I suppose I need a workout.”

Reaching the door, exhaustion gripped me and I found myself gasping for breath. It was unbelievable – this body was so darn heavy.

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I tried to ignore the spectacle – it was this pampering that turned this fatty into a giant tire. Pushing the annoyance aside, I began to move, managing only about 10 steps before my legs gave out.

Damn it. Seriously? I collapsed, leaving the twenty servants to hastily lift me and place me onto the litter. For me, it felt more like a stretcher. There I was, sprawled on it like some mountain, panting heavily.

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I ordered while cursing this hefty body under my breath.

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“I'm alright, Dad.”

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“Your fiancee is coming tomorrow”

……………………………………………………………

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