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... t was that she was weak. Not just physically—no, she had long accepted that her noodle arms were purely decorative—but in every other way that mattered.

She was a genius, yes. A prodigy of strategy, intellect, and clever loopholes. But geniuses often lacked one crucial skill.

Social tact.

She was, for lack of a better term, autistic as hell.

How could she not be? She had grown up glued to a screen, her fingers dancing across keyboards instead of shaking hands.

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