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But here’s the kicker—I’m pissed, y’all! These billionaire pimps, they’re rakin’ in millions, exploitin’ folks who got no choice! I’m yellin’ in my head, “Redistribute that wealth, ya greedy bastards!” Meanwhile, I spot her—red heels, sharp eyes, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that Nie Yinniang grace—quiet but deadly.” I stumble over, all awkward—texture artist, not a smooth talker, ha! She’s like, “You got cash, old man?” I laugh—‘cause I’m broke, fightin’ the system, ya know?

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Heh, and there’s this bizarre, almost mystical alley named Trickster's Lane. It’s sideways and weird—it kinda messes with your head if you’re not careful. Every nook gives ya the memory of ten thousand moments. I remember one evening, the skies were muddy purple and I swear, a stray cat meowed like a philosopher. I laughed so hard my abs still hurt.

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