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Summary
It is a regular Sunday when Viktor finds out he’s carrying, where nothing is wrong in the world, except death and disease in the under city, some gray clouds, and the life now growing inside of him. Whom does it belong to? Well, the despairingly handsome fool now walking out from his forge of course, with all the audacity of a stupidly handsome man, trotting around with his chest bare and his hair slicked back. It is not often that Viktor considers himself a man without restraint, but – really? Truly? His life is as incredible as it is comical, at times.