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๐๐ฎ๐ง๐ข๐ฌ๐ก๐ฆ๐ž๐ง๐ญ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐๐š๐ข๐ง (๐Ÿ)

The metallic tang of iron bars hung in the air, sharp and suffocating, mixed with a faint scent of old paper, musty and woody as the pages rustling sound echoed in the stillness, breaking the unsettled silence.

It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind that made the pulse echoed in the ears louder than a roar of a lion.

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๐™๐š๐ซ๐š

โ•ฐโ”ˆโžค๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐ง๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ก๐ž๐š๐ซ๐ญ๐ฌ & ๐•ฝ๐–†๐–Œ๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐•พ๐–”๐–š๐–‘๐–˜