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Damian knelt his way up the steps, each kowtow a solid thud against the stone. The fine sand and dirt stained his forehead, and beneath the grime, a red, swollen mark was visible.
He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. When had he ever been so disheveled?
But as long as his wish could come true, as long as Cassia could forgive him, he would do anything.
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