Marisa's eyes fluttered open, and she groaned as the sunlight streamed through the open blinds, casting bright rays onto her face. Attempting to focus, she squinted, her gaze landing on the white ceiling above her. Her vision shifted to the right, where she noticed a needle discreetly inserted into the back of her right palm. Tracing the thin, straw-like tube connected to the needle, her eyes followed it to a transparent bag suspended in the air by a metal hook, containing a yellowish liquid. Her observations were interrupted by a voice, breaking the silence of the room. "Seems like you're awake, Marisa Russo?" Marisa shifted her attention toward the source of the voice, finding a young lady standing by the window. "Who are you?" Marisa inquired, raising a questioning eyebrow at the lady, who appeared to be around her age. "My name is Clarabelle. And you are Marisa Russo," the lady, Clarabelle, responded. "Me? Marisa Russo?" Marisa questioned, her hand instinctively reaching to t
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