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... rced chamber looked like Dupravel Nuna.

He spoke like him.

He gave orders like him.

But Antonio wasn’t sure if it really was him anymore.

Dupravel sat slouched on the floor, not the bed. His eyes darted around the room, never once meeting another’s gaze. His lips moved even when silent, as though muttering to voices only he could hear.

His left arm—torn open days ago from compulsive scratching—still bled in patches, but he kept clawing at it anyway, as tho ...

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