Entertainment Creator System: Building an Anime Empire

Chapter 114: Every Story Needs an Editor

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Chapter 114: Chapter 114: Every Story Needs an Editor

Haruki spent the next morning trying to convince himself the woman at the station wasn’t real.

It was an excellent strategy.

A terrible conclusion.

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Because she was real.

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The photograph existed.

The conversation existed.

The timing existed.

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Unfortunately.

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At 9:03 AM, Haruki arrived at Yamashita Publishing carrying every draft page Mizuno requested.

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His backpack felt heavier than usual.

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Not because of paper.

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Because of consequences.

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The public backlash continued.

The rankings remained low.

The contract remained unfinished.

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And now a woman from a supposedly dead project had appeared on a train platform.

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Wonderful.

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Actually no.

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The word deserved retirement.

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Mizuno waited inside a meeting room.

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Three red pens sat on the table.

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Haruki immediately felt threatened.

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Reasonably threatened.

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The editor pointed toward the chair.

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"Sit."

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A dangerous beginning.

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Very dangerous.

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Haruki obeyed.

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The draft pages landed between them.

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Mizuno started reading.

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Ten minutes passed.

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Then twenty.

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Then thirty.

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No comments.

No reactions.

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Nothing.

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The silence became oppressive.

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Eventually Haruki broke.

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"Say something."

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Mizuno looked up.

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"No."

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Then returned to reading.

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Cruel.

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Professionally cruel.

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At forty-two minutes, she finally spoke.

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"The chase sequence works."

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Haruki relaxed slightly.

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Mistake.

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A huge mistake.

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Mizuno immediately continued.

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"The emotional pacing doesn’t."

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There it was.

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The knife.

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Expected.

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Necessary.

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The editor tapped several pages.

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"Ren makes the correct emotional decision too quickly."

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Another page.

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"Miyu forgives him too easily."

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Another.

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"Shiori understands his reasoning immediately."

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The red pen struck the manuscript repeatedly.

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Haruki watched entire sections bleed.

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Painful.

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Useful.

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Painful.

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Mizuno leaned back.

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"People don’t resolve problems this neatly."

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The sentence hit harder than expected.

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Because it wasn’t about the manga.

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Not entirely.

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Haruki knew that.

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Mizuno knew he knew.

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Nobody acknowledged it.

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The conversation continued.

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Actual editing.

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Not mentorship.

Not philosophy.

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Editing.

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Panel structure.

Dialogue rhythm.

Scene transitions.

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The atmosphere felt refreshing.

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Because the story finally returned to the story.

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At noon, another person joined the meeting.

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Unexpectedly.

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Suzune.

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The assistant editor entered carrying coffee and a stack of documents.

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Then stopped.

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Looked at the red-marked manuscript.

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Looked at Mizuno.

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Then at Haruki.

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"You survived."

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Barely.

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Suzune sat down.

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Immediately dropping a folder onto the table.

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Publishing reports.

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Not Ghost Project.

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Not leaks.

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Publishing.

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The novel needed more of this.

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The story needed more of this.

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The folder contained readership recovery data.

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Threadless Gate.

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Past six weeks.

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The graphs still looked ugly.

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Less ugly.

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Still ugly.

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Haruki noticed something.

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Reader trust remained low.

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Engagement was improving.

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Slowly.

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Painfully.

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Authentically.

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No sudden recovery.

No miracle turnaround.

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The consequence arc remained alive.

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Good.

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Not comfortable.

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Correct.

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At one o’clock, lunch interrupted the meeting.

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An actual interruption.

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Not a thematic pause.

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A delivery worker entered.

Someone dropped a drink.

Suzune nearly lost an entire stack of reports.

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Life.

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Messy life.

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The room immediately transformed.

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Editors arguing over food.

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Coffee negotiations.

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Mizuno stealing somebody’s lunch without permission.

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A shocking betrayal.

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A familiar betrayal.

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Haruki watched the chaos.

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Then realized something.

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This industry wasn’t built by mysteries.

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Or conspiracies.

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Or hidden projects.

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It was built by exhausted people carrying deadlines.

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The thought stayed with him.

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Not as a lesson.

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As an observation.

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At three o’clock, the meeting finally ended.

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Haruki left with heavily revised pages.

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And a headache.

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A productive headache.

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Outside, autumn air drifted through Tokyo.

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The city looked different lately.

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Not because Tokyo changed.

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Because Haruki had.

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A dangerous realization.

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Very dangerous.

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His phone buzzed.

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Yui.

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Simple message.

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Osaka interview next week.

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The screen suddenly felt heavier.

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Not because the possibility was new.

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Because the timeline became real.

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Next week.

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Not someday.

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Not eventually.

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Soon.

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Haruki stared at the message.

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Typed three different responses.

Deleted all three.

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Then sent:

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You’ll do great.

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A minute later, Yui replied.

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That wasn’t the response you wanted to send.

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Haruki laughed.

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Because she was right.

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Again.

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Dangerous woman.

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Very dangerous woman.

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Before he could answer, another notification arrived.

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Unknown Number.

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Of course.

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The universe apparently hated consistency.

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Haruki looked at the message.

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Did not open it.

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Did not read it.

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Did not engage.

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Instead, he deleted it.

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Immediately.

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The action felt surprisingly satisfying.

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Because for once, somebody else did not control the pace.

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For once, the mystery received no attention.

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The manga received attention.

Yui received attention.

The contract received attention.

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The real story received attention.

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That evening, Haruki returned home and resumed drawing.

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Not investigating.

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Drawing.

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Ren argued with Miyu.

Miyu refused to forgive him.

Shiori got angry.

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The scene became messier.

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Better.

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Much better.

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At 10:47 PM, the system appeared.

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Creator Recovery Assessment

Story Focus:

Improved

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Industry Reputation:

Recovering Slowly

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Reader Trust:

Unstable

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Recommended Priority:

Continue.

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No mystery quest.

No Ghost Project update.

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Just continue.

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The simplest instruction the system had ever given him.

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Which probably made it the most difficult one to follow.

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Outside, rain tapped softly against the apartment window.

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Inside, pages continued accumulating.

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And somewhere in Tokyo, a woman from Ghost Project was probably waiting for him to chase another clue.

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Tonight she would have to wait.

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Because every story needed an editor.

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And Haruki was finally listening to his.

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