Entertainment Creator System: Building an Anime Empire
Chapter 114: Every Story Needs an Editor
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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