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Chapter • 111

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Calisto ⋅• ♱

My eyes were fixed on Loren.

"What did you think, Dad?" he asked me as he spun on his heels. A complete and perfect spin.

He was so excited about that fantasy that I didn’t even have the courage to say what I thought: it’s identical to the degenerate Asmodeus.

In the end, maybe Loren didn’t mind my comparison - after all he liked the one he gently called uncle, even though I liked to make it clear that Asmodeus was NOT TO BE TRUSTED.

"It’s... beautiful..." I said trying to be sincere, but in a way - failing.

Abbadon, who was standing next to him, held his laughter while certainly thinking the same as I did: that was divine punishment, plus one for the bill.

"What’s your fantasy, Dad?" Loren questioned me as she held a daffodil between her fingers.

It was a shiny, golden daffodil, so beautiful I wondered if it was real.

"Hummm... don’t you know?" I asked, trying to provoke him.

He bit his own mouth and mumbled softly.

"Hummmm... Hummm, uh... Humm..."
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