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Morrigan was sitting on the bed in her room, staring out the window. But this was not her favorite room 85 in Deucalion, now she lived with Squall. It's been a year since Morrigan crossed the border and found herself in the Republic. Life here was much more boring than in Nevermoor. Morrigan missed Jupiter, Jack, Hawthorne, Cadence, the rest of Unit 919, she missed everyone. She didn't even say goodbye to them when she left. But Morrigan did not regret the choice she made. It was the only convenient way to train with Squall and become a real Wundersmith. Through Gossamer he could hardly teach her anything worthwhile, so she decided to go to the Republic, which was helped by Squall. At first, it was unusual to live in the same house with a mass murderer. But gradually she got used to it. Living with Squall was not so bad as she thought. Morrigan even noticed that he seemed to be trying to take care of her. Even if he didn't do it very well. But Morrigan decided not to make any sarcastic comments or jokes on this topic. She wasn't going to anger or annoy him. At least he tried to do it. Classes were held in the morning and evening every day, except for Sunday. They were exhausting, and mostly Squall was patient if something didn't work out for Morrigan. But if it lasted for a long time, then he became irritable. His mood was also affected by the important meetings and conferences that he had almost every day, not to mention the stack of documents on his desk that he had to deal with. Morrigan spent most of her free time in the home library (she could not have imagined that Squall had so many books), she could go into any room of the mansion, except for one - Squall's office. This was the most important rule, which he announced immediately after Morrigan crossed the threshold of his house. She tried not to think about it, because there were a lot of useful things to do here. But that didn't lessen her curiosity.

Morrigan had the day off today. Squall left on business that did not require delay. So Morrigan was left to her own devices. As she walked down the corridor, Morrigan noticed out of the corner of her eye that the door to Squall's office was slightly ajar.

"Strange" - Morrigan thought. - "Did he forget to close the door?"

She came closer and opened the door a little more, looking inside. She hesitated for a few seconds, because Squall made it quite clear that he did not want to see her in his office. Morrigan bit her lip.

"Well, he's not here right now, so there's nothing to be afraid of. I'll take a quick look around and leave. He won't even know" - Morrigan reasoned and still went inside.

The interior of the office was exquisite. Morrigan had to admit that Squall had good taste. There was a wooden desk against the far wall with files of documents stacked neatly on it. There were bookcases along the side walls, but there weren't as many books here as in the library. The office was in perfect order. Morrigan walked around the desk and stood beside the leather chair. On this side of the desk were drawers containing various papers, office supplies and ... Morrigan could not understand what it was. But it looked like an ordinary black box.

Morrigan picked it up and looked at it, frowning. The box wasn't that big. Morrigan ran her hand over it, it was lacquered with a floral pattern. Morrigan had already forgotten that she was where she shouldn't have been. She decided to open the box, but, pulling the lid, accidentally dropped it on the floor. Several sheets of paper were scattered on the floor. Kneeling down, Morrigan quickly began to collect the papers from the floor. But one piece of paper in particular caught her attention. She pulled it out of the whole pile and ran her eyes over it.

Dear Ezra,

I don't have much time, so I'll try to be brief. SHE found out about everything, she will come for me. I hope she doesn't guess about Morrigan. At least for now. I'm worried about her. I hope Corvus doesn't find out about anything. Otherwise, everything will be much worse than expected. Please keep an eye on Morrigan.

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