Albel stared at the paper in his hand. He wasn't even sure what he was looking at, the words in front of him made no sense. His brain couldn't even begin to decipher their meaning, because their supposed meaning was so so far beyond what Albel could accept.
With little hearts and percentages, this... thing... was apparently some sort of compatibility rating. Of supposed romance. Or something.
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With little hearts and percentages, this... thing... was apparently some sort of compatibility rating. Of supposed romance. Or something.
What?