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Harald the brave

Harald

I'm standing in front of the mirror, trying to straighten my tie, but my fingers are shaking. No matter how much I try to stay calm, anxiety grows inside me. Today, I will testify in court. I was summoned not as a simple citizen but as Harald Morton, son of Charles Morton and brother of Bruce Morton, two figures who, to me, represent everything that is wrong with the world.

I look at my reflection and try to convince myself that I'm prepared, but the truth is that I've never been so lost. Likewise, I, the renegade son, the one who was expelled and ignored by his own family, am now the only visible face of the Mortons. My father is dead, my brother is gone, and here I am, the last Morton, as if their curse has fallen upon me. I feel as if the weight of all this family's crimes and shame is about to crush my shoulders.

"You don't have to do this," I murmur, not looking away from the mirror, as if I'm trying to convince myself.

I hear footsteps behind me, and before I can prepare
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