Elior
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0The dimly lit cellar is filled with the scent of aged oak barrels and whispers of the past. Elior stands among rows of bottles, each containing fragments of history. Tonight, the air is different, charged with an unusual presence. He turns, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of desire and dread. The bottle in his hand is the one he's been avoiding, the one meant for your shared memories.
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