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... onths, to be exact—for our hero (or, perhaps more accurately, our soon-to-be-tragic hero) Lucien d’Armoire to adjust to his new life.
Why?
Because, for a modern-day salary slave who once cried over cup noodles and blackout deadlines, this was heaven.
He had everything a soul-traumatized corporate drone could ever ask for:
Looks? Check. He had cheekbones sharp enough to slice through existential dread and hair that looked ...
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