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9-2: village festival

"Are you planning to go out dressed like that?" Marguerite asked Harry.

The young wolf turned his head toward her as he pulled the long black hooded cloak of the Council over his shoulders. He wore simple black cotton pants, and his leather combat boots were weary over them.

"Yes. Why? Is there something wrong with my outfit?"

The dwarf looked at him with a jaded expression and sighed loudly, "Men, I swear!" Then she quickly walked over to Harry's bag and unceremoniously opened it. "I can't believe it! This is a godforsaken French village in a godforsaken town, not a putain de fucking medieval city with candlelight!"

She shouted victoriously and pulled a long-sleeved black shirt from the bag.

Harry let out a disapproving grunt as he realized what she had chosen for him to wear.

"This dress shirt doesn't fit me anymore, and I don't even know what it's doing in this bag. I must have a shirt lying around in there," Harry said as he reached for his ba
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