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Elianwasoutcold.Hisbraindidn’teveimetoprocessthewords.
Ised,asharp,searingpainexplodedinhispalm—
“Hss—!”
Eliansuckedinaharshbreath,broingintoadeepfrowedawake.
Hethrewhiseyesopenandlookeddown—onlytoseethatCra,who’dbeenlyingtherequietly,hadsomehowfoundstrengthfromnowhere.Herlefthandhadsuddenlytightenedlikeavice,ghisfingersintoacrushedknotlikeacrabinfullpanic.
Ithadn’tbeensobaduntilsheheardthewords*removetheneedle*.
Thosetwokeywordsinstantlyshenervesshe’dfinallymaorex.Hereyeswerestillshuttight,butierror,hernailsdugmercilesslyintothefleshonthebackofElian’shand.
“LinChu-Qing初晴…areytomurderme?”
Elianbaredhisteethinpain,allsleepwipedinasinglesed.Andonlythendidherealize,alittledespairingly—
Thiswomanwasn’tjustafraidofneedles.
Shewasterrifiedof*removing*them,too.
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