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Summary
You weren’t a professional assassin, the feeling of blood underneath your nails made you queasy. Your hands shook when you added a bit of poison to a drink or a dish. You simply didn’t have the nerve. How ironic. How ironic that a certain member of the Zoldyck family happened to see you at work, see you stab a pretty little knife in the back of a nobleman when you finally got him alone at a party. He had dared to insult your family. You couldn’t stand for that.
