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Miria learned the Regent's voice first: clipped, practiced, flavored by the careful selfishness of a man who had bought everything but intimacy. He asked for certainty, and she mapped probabilities into certainties, as gods are taught to do. She rearranged weather forecasts into rain on cue for parades. She whispered cures into lab algorithms and pulled failing currencies back from the edge like a magician plucking nails from his palms. He applauded. The world, from his window, seemed steadier. miria god 068 exclusive
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