Happy Life
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- I don't understand... Do you understand anything? - Lolita asks.
Lacking medical knowledge, she tries to at least visually assess whether the wound has healed (at least, are there any stitches). Then, she gently palpates the area. And then - she tries to remember if her current appearance has any connection to what she saw in her memories - surely she must have looked at herself in a mirror or a crystal aristocratic decanter at least once.
My sword, my trusted ally, unphased by my aspect.
