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"You're staying? Well that's great. Look around Franz's room while I continue my story."

You take a look around Franz's room, and saw a notebook, filled with sketches, beautiful sketches. Tristan, curious about what you are looking at, also took a peek. "The kid got the talent you know? People are just.. too blind to see that." Tristan shook his head, eyes still on the notebook, in remorse.

"How long have you been staying here?"

Tristan fell silent, shook his head (again) and inserts his hands inside his pockets. "There's no use denying, I'll answer you, but this will be the first, and the last time that I will answer your question. Maybe I spent my whole lifetime here, so far as I remember. I was always alive, but never existed."

You looked down, "Sorry for asking."

The End

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