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... n traces, and the display board with broken, faulty neon lights were mostly filled with Korean words. It was nearly evening, and entering my ears were the sounds of the people in the pachinko parlors by the roads, with some squabbles in Korean and the exhaust gases echoing. This place was a station away from Shinjuku, yet it felt so different.

“Over here? Really? I don't see a hospital signboard here.”

Tetsu-senpai was the first to get off the car, and said this as he lifted his ...

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