Siverfale
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Parfinora blushed like a tomato; it seemed to her that even the roots of her hair had turned red. She was simultaneously struggling with shame, the desire to stop this embarrassing activity, and curiosity. Finally, the latter won, and she tried to peek through the keyhole.
Where do we go?
Where do we end up when we save the world?
Where do we end up when we save the world?