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... the private room door, and four or five burly men with fierce scowls simultaneously turned their heads. They were dressed in bright red waiter’s uniforms and greeted with a menacing tone, "Welcome."
Fushimi Roku sat in the south, facing north, occupying the head seat. He reclined against the chair back, trimming his nails with a nail clipper; Minamoto Tamako sat beside him, like a mascot, peeling an orange on the table with her small hands.
The private room was filled with warmth ...
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