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Adata Transend was in a foul mood. Her gaze was fixed on her fluffy "sister," who was stuffing herself with the capital's delicacies without any manners whatsoever.
- And where does she put all of it? That's already the fifth steak. - Her friend's question flew past her ears. - Oh, Deuses of the past, would you please pick up a fork and knife! Not with your hands!.. - The ruler of Sellaur wearily pressed her palm to her own forehead. - And what exactly did father see in her?