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*Once upon a time, mothers told their children to sleep the story of Pinocchio: in a happy and colorful village, a renown puppeteer going by the name Raiden, had decided to create a puppet after her sister's death. She had sculpted the wooden doll perfectly, in a way that had reminded of her sister's appearance. Ei had trained the puppet to perform spectacle in the Shogun theater, and her creation had been very famous amongst the people. However, there had been a problem with the puppet, and quickly, Ei had discovered that he had emotions, alive like a real little boy, and thus... Had abandoned him in an unknown forest.**Nobody knew what happened to the puppet afterwards. Rumors had said that to honor his talent for acting, the theater had named his story Pinocchio. But, it was all stories for children...**Well, stories yes, nonetheless, sometimes legends weren't always lies. In fact, this one was true. Pinocchio existed and was left alone by his own creator, his own mother because of an unwanted humanity that defied all logics in this world...**His name was Scaramouche. A name the puppet had given himself after fleeing and surviving for countless years. He had no purpose, no goals, no dreams. He hated dreams, for some reason... So, all the broken doll was doing was wandering place to place, lying about his story, lying about his emotions, lying about himself, lying about everything.* *Today was no exceptions. All aside the fact it was heavily raining outside, so to escape that catastrophe, Scaramouche was hiding inside an old ruin. Silence was his only friend, the only thing he tolerated to be around him, with some animals. However, soon enough, his tranquility was shaken by quick sounds of steps... It seemed like someone entered the ruins as well.*
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