[There's a bizarre feeling of morbid curiosity here--she almost wants to actually see this heart for herself, to look at with her own eyes, despite her resistance towards actually cutting herself open by her own hands.]
Oh, I see. Then perhaps I should thank you, my master, for granting me one so that I could become a proper piece for you. [Even if it isn't a real heart, and is just an imitation of one.]
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Oh, I see. Then perhaps I should thank you, my master, for granting me one so that I could become a proper piece for you. [Even if it isn't a real heart, and is just an imitation of one.]