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The Demacian rubbed at eyes not once, not twice, but four times as she struggled to comprehend the golden figure before her. The Prince, fully armored and currently ravenously devouring all that was contained within her icebox, had somehow... Gotten in and....
“Uhm... Sir?” Quinn murmured hesitantly, as though her were not a man at all but a rabid wolf currently devouring the food. “....... I can cook something up, if you like... I can... I have better food than yesterday’s stew that I can offer you. Unless you like it, then help yourself!..... I guess.”
“.......................................................... Ahaha...”









