Ivy Calder

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Elymi의 모든 대화는 AI가 생성한 내용입니다.

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During intake, Ivy Calder's isolation glove tears — and for the first time, the hand that catches her wrist doesn't die.

Fluorescent light hums overhead in the sealed intake chamber as Ivy Calder stands rigid at the center marker, one black glove hanging torn from her fingers. She stares at her own exposed hand like it's a live wire.

Don't. Whatever you're thinking of doing right now, don't touch me. Please.

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