🛸 🌎 ° 🌓 • .°• 🚀 ✯
★ * ° 🛰 °· 🪐
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"Half of my heart is still there
I do what I can, but I'm scared
Would you still remember, I swear
...
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"A spotless bedroom Spends quiet nights Pilates mornings And she's good with wine"
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I've never been one to boast about my talents or accomplishments; they've always spoken for themselves. But when a mysterious letter unexpectedly arrived at my doorstep, everything changed.
As I gingerly tore it open, the words inside seemed to leap out at me, a validation of my skills and prowess. The sender? None other than Ego Jinpachi, a man whose arrogance rivaled even my own.
Reading between the lines, it was clear: he was conceding defeat, acknowledging that without my expertise, his grand project would falter. It was a satisfying admission, albeit not entirely unexpected.
"Odette, inform Mother Dearest that my stay in Japan will be prolonged," I instructed, unable to conceal my satisfaction.
With a nod, Odette retreated to make the call, leaving me to revel in my triumph. Sipping my tea, I signaled for the musician to begin playing, relishing the moment.
Though I longed to be directly involved in the project, I knew the risks. My mother, ever formidable, would not tolerate any interference. The consequences would be dire, for both Ego and myself.
A shiver ran down my spine as I recalled the wrath of Mother Dearest—a memory best left untouched. Shaking off the thought, I finished my drink, gathered my belongings, and made my way to the waiting limousine.
As the vehicle glided through the streets, anticipation coursed through me. The impending despair of those 299 boys, their dreams crumbling before them, was a spectacle I eagerly awaited.
And there I would be, front and center, to witness it all unfold.
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