I listened carefully as the man began to tell me a story. I realized that this story was also linked to my life and safety. "Our love story is intertwined in an unusual way, full of lessons." "My childhood friend and I, as werewolves, always felt different from others," he began. "What do you mean?" I interjected, surprised by the unusual twist in his sentence. "We always felt different from the rest of the villagers," he explained, his eyes distant. "We fell in love at the age of nineteen, under the enchantment of a full moon," he says. He raised his hand as he spoke, as if attempting to touch the moonlight slipping through the leaves of the large tree above us. "It sounds like something out of a fairy tale," I said to myself. "Yes, like a fairy tale, but with a sad ending," he added, pausing briefly before proceeding with his story. "We made a critical mistake. We used the sacred Grimoire, our tribe's magic book, as a mat for our lovemaking in the heat of our passion. It was
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