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On this oddly calm night, the lights of the city were as lively as ever, blinking like stars descended to grace the earthly phase. At the Scarlet Bliss, a timeless center for the city's professionals in the sex industry, Aurora was preparing for another usual evening of work.

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The Poet as soon as asked Aurora, "Aren't you tired of this world's contempt, of their contempt?" To which she simply smiled and responded, "I picked my path, and I'll walk it, back directly, head high, not seeking their validation but commemorating my existence. For at the end, it's our hearts that matter, not their words."

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Every night, as Aurora indulged in the luminous moonlight, her eyes twinkled brighter than the city's lively lights, for she was not the item of social taboo, but a beacon of modesty and dignity, dominating life on her terms. Aurora was not a victim of her scenarios but a hero for herself, a worthy female passing through the edges of social mores, unabashed and proud.

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