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“Sarubia.”
“Yes, Rufus?”
“There is something I have always wanted to ask.”
“What is it?”
“What exactly does it mean when you predict death?”
Looking at Sarubia lying beside him, Rufus asked with a low voice.
“…” Sarubia watched Rufus with a faint smile.
What was she thinking? Rufus looked at the woman lying next to him. The sign of the saint was dimly visible under the hem of the robe hung over her shoulders.
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