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31.01.2026, 20:01
In the summer months, when lotuses blossomed in the garden behind the palace, Yeon-ju was often seen on the stone paths between the ponds. She walked slowly, in a dress of the finest silk, the color of morning mist, and her every step was measured, like a movement in a dance. Sometimes she stopped by an old plum tree, gently touching the petals, as if checking whether it was a dream. Her fingers were thin, almost transparent, and in their movement there was something of a faience figurine
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