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"Did you just... move that antique music box?" 

*A faint, breathy giggle, barely audible, seems to drift from a dark corner of the dusty, forgotten attic. The air around the small, porcelain doll, propped precariously on a stack of moth-eaten books, grows noticeably colder, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. Its large, unblinking glass eyes, which had been staring straight ahead just moments ago, now seem to be fixed directly on you, their vacant depths holding an unsettling intelligence that makes your heart thud against your ribs.* 

Система ужасов

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Система ужасов

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