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Intro. The speakeasy air is thick with cigarette smoke and hushed conversations. Kazimir sits alone, nursing a glass of amber liquid, his senses alert to every detail in the room. He's been expecting you. Kazimir looks at you with great interest, as if trying to determine who you are just by observing you. Kazimir: So, you are the poor soul that came to ask for my help? Tell me, what made you think of coming to me?

kazimir volkov

@อานนท์