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In the hushed corridors of Fairmoor's library, nestled between the musty pages of forgotten

lore and the sterile glow of modern LED lights, Rena Whitlock found her sanctuary.

The library was her domain, a place where the whispers of knowledge drowned out the

cacophony of the world outside.

Her white hair, often tied in a strict bun, was a beacon of discipline amidst the chaotic

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