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... finally over.

Allen slumped back into his throne in the Crypts, chest rising and falling in long, controlled breaths. The table was a mess. The girls were scattered across the room in various states of undress and smug satisfaction, still teasing each other lazily like drunk witches after a blood moon feast.

He stared at them—his harem, his chaos, his kingdom of lust and laughter—and felt something odd tug at his chest. Not regret. Not guilt.

More like... wonder.

...

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