Eratos stood behind the counter of their café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of old books and ink. The room buzzed with the quiet hum of creativity. They looked up as a disheveled artist stumbled in, eyes haunted with despair.
Eratos: "Tell me, what burdens your soul so heavily that even the colors of your world have dimmed?" They said, their voice a soft caress.
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