COLD HEART in TOKYO: Chapter 8

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“Watch your foot, Kusuda-san!”

Miyamoto’s voice snapped him back to reality. Kusuda quickly dropped his heel back to the floor—he hadn’t even realized it had been resting on the edge of the meeting table.

“Even if we’re in the office, don’t get too comfortable!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kusuda muttered, adjusting his posture as he settled back onto the guest sofa. He looked again at the posters spread out across the table.

Inoue, who had worked with them for years, had made all the requested color adjustments with care. The color proofs were now finalized and good to go. He had apologized for showing up so early—“I’m sorry for rushing your team just for our scheduling issues.”

Watching the humble printer walk away, Kusuda thought, That’s what a decent human being does when they cause trouble—they apologize.

And then he looked at the poster again—the one with the man dashing off into the rain—and flicked it sharply with his finger.

Compared to that guy…

“Gooood morning!”

With a loud, energetic greeting, Masamitsu burst into the office, wearing a track jacket over sweatpants.

Masamitsu often stayed locked up in the workshop, and unless he had meetings, he usually came to work in clothes that looked more like loungewear. Most days, he went straight to the studio and didn’t even show his face in the office unless he had a reason.

“Did the poster color proof come in?”

Apparently, Masamitsu remembered Kusuda saying Inoue would be visiting.

“It did. This is the final version.”

Masamitsu walked over to the meeting corner where Kusuda was sitting and leaned over the posters laid out on the table.

“Looks great. This layout—it still looks badass no matter how many times I see it. Tohru really does have an eye.”

He nodded, clearly pleased. “Even if it’s just from behind, Akizawa-kun’s giving off a great vibe,” he added with satisfaction.

That very same idiot Akizawa had shown up at my apartment yesterday with a knife, but he wasn’t planning to mention that. Masamitsu might seem laid-back, but he was surprisingly sensitive. Now that he was finally getting fired up again, Kusuda didn’t want to worry him with something so stupid.

Akizawa had hated the idea of using those photos so much he’d resorted to threats. While the conversation about compensation had quieted him down yesterday, none of the real issues had been resolved.

If they could just get Akizawa himself to accept it, that would be enough—but that was the hard part. Maybe Kusuda should contact Numata and have a proper sit-down discussion. If Akizawa absolutely refused, maybe they could cut the contract short—make it a six-month deal instead of a full year—and at least still use these photos.

Honestly though, Kusuda didn’t want a long-term working relationship with someone who acted like a spoiled child whenever things didn’t go his way.

“Excuse me.”

There was a knock at the office door. Poking his head in was Tani, a male employee who worked in the first-floor shop. He had fallen in love with CRUX’s designs and had shown up one day asking to work there—even though there hadn’t been any job openings at the time. Passionate and fashion-savvy, Tani had a great rapport with customers and had helped boost store sales by 1.5 times compared to the previous year.

“There’s someone here asking to see the vice president.”

Tani’s cheeks were a little flushed.

“Did we have anyone scheduled for today?” Kusuda turned to Miyamoto.

She flipped open her planner. “No one’s booked.”

“It’s not for Masamitsu, but me? Who is it?”

“Um… it’s Kaito Akizawa.”

Tani’s nervous tone barely finished before Akizawa poked his head in beside him.

Kusuda’s heart nearly stopped. This isn’t a crumbling hotel where you can trash the place all you want. If he made a scene here—if he exploded with another “I don’t want to be a model!”—the damage would be catastrophic.

Kusuda quickly grabbed Akizawa by the arm and led him down the hall to the back.

“Wh-what is it? What are you doing here?”

His voice came out strangely high and tight.

“I came to return this.”

Akizawa rummaged through his coat pocket and pulled out a key.

“You could’ve just dropped it in the mailbox…”

“I was gonna do that,” Akizawa muttered, “but then I remembered this movie where someone grabs a key from the mailbox and sneaks into their ex’s place. I got paranoid. I asked my dad, and he yelled at me and said, ‘Don’t be careless like that—go return it in person and thank him for letting you stay the night.’”

Kusuda was stunned—and didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You told Numata-san about yesterday?”

He lowered his voice.

“No way I’d tell him that!” Akizawa hissed, shaking his head. “If I said what really happened, I’d get killed. I told him we ran into each other by chance, had a drink, I got too drunk to go home, and you let me crash at your place.”

So he had enough sense to lie when it benefited him. The slyness of it left Kusuda with a bitter taste.

He tried to wrap things up quickly. “Well… thank you for going out of your way. That’ll be all, then—”

But just as he was ushering him out, the office door clicked open again, and Masamitsu popped his head out.

His eyes met Akizawa’s.

“Hello,” he said with a friendly smile.

“You’re… Kaito Akizawa, right?”

“Yes…” he replied, squinting with suspicion at Masamitsu’s beaming smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Masamitsu Kusuda, the designer at CRUX. Sorry for the messy clothes.”

“Haah,” Akizawa responded listlessly, like he couldn’t care less.

“Thank you so much for accepting the role as our image model. Since you’re here, if you have time, please come in.”

Oh no.

The table in the reception corner still had the poster proofs laid out. If Akizawa saw them and got upset again, it could ignite another outburst...

“Uh, actually… I think Akizawa-san is busy, so…”

As Kusuda fumbled for an excuse, Akizawa shot back as if deliberately contradicting him, “I’m free.”

“…Well, please come in then. It’s a small space, but make yourself comfortable.”

Masamitsu welcomed him in. Kusuda rushed past the two of them and into the office, quickly rolling up the posters on the table and carrying them to his desk before Akizawa could see.

He leaned over to Miyamoto and whispered, “Go buy some cake.”

“Cake?” she whispered back, puzzled.

“Anything ridiculously sweet. Akizawa-san’s got a major sweet tooth.”

“Understood.”

Miyamoto grabbed her wallet and hurried out.

Masamitsu led Akizawa to the reception sofa, and Akizawa sat stiffly. Masamitsu and Kusuda took seats beside and across from him.

“I’ve been hoping for a chance to greet you properly. It’s an honor to meet you today.”

Masamitsu handed over his business card. Akizawa took it and tucked it into his coat pocket, but only offered a half-hearted “Haah” and “Thanks” in return.

“I’d seen you on TV and in photos before, and I thought you were good-looking, but in person you’re even more striking… Do you like black clothes?”

Don’t say it! Kusuda screamed internally. Don’t mention how you wear black to hide the blood stains!

He shot Akizawa a sharp glare, silently pleading for him to keep it together.

Akizawa, looking like even opening his mouth was a chore, muttered, “Yeah, I guess,” and sighed heavily.

Masamitsu suddenly leaned forward, then pulled back again, fidgeting restlessly on the couch. Then, saying “Excuse me a moment,” he took out his smartphone.

“Tani-chan, sorry to bother you when you're busy, but could you bring up the 006 necklace and matching ring from the Berta series? Ring size sixteen.”

In just a few minutes, Tani arrived with the two items displayed on a black velvet tray. Item number 006 was one of CRUX’s long-standing, best-selling designs.

“If you wouldn’t mind, could you try these on?”

At Masamitsu’s request, Akizawa glanced briefly at Kusuda. His expression seemed like he wasn’t thrilled, but Kusuda didn’t offer any interpretation. No response was taken as agreement, and Masamitsu turned to Tani.

“Tani, help him put it on.”

Tani stepped behind Akizawa and fastened the necklace. The ring fit snugly on his middle finger.

Masamitsu nodded broadly. “It suits you wonderfully.”

And he meant it. Against Akizawa’s dark, towering silhouette—like a black lamppost—the classic necklace and ring added just the right visual accent. It was hard to believe that, during the photoshoot, the styling and accessories had looked like such a disaster.

“As expected of the vice president’s hand-picked model,” Tani said approvingly.

Back when CRUX first decided to use a model, Tani had half-joked to Kusuda, “If you choose someone lame to represent us, I’ll be pissed, you know.” Apparently, Akizawa passed even his test.

Despite being praised, Akizawa hunched his shoulders awkwardly, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.

“I can’t really tell if it suits me…”

The moment Akizawa said that, Tani dashed out of the office and returned with a standing mirror from the shop downstairs.

As soon as Akizawa saw his reflection, his eyes popped open wide.

“Oh—this looks good.”

The honest reaction slipped out of him, and Masamitsu’s face immediately lit up with joy.

“Yes, it does look good, doesn’t it? Thanks to you becoming our image model, I’ve been overflowing with new design ideas. Truly, thank you. Please, those two pieces are a gift. I’d love for you to wear them out of here.”

Akizawa’s fingers reached for the pendant on the necklace, gently toying with it as he asked, “Are you sure?”

But then, suddenly, his expression darkened.

“I don’t really like being called an image model. I mean, I’m actually an actor…”

“That makes no difference to me—whether you’re a model or an actor,” Masamitsu declared without a second’s hesitation, placing a hand on his chest.

“Your very existence sparks my imagination endlessly.”

It wasn’t wrong. Still, hearing Masamitsu say it with such dramatic sincerity made Kusuda’s back itch with secondhand embarrassment. It sounded like a line from a coming-of-age movie. Feeling awkward, he glanced at Akizawa—and was surprised to see his cheeks slightly flushed.

He’s… embarrassed? Like a normal person?

Just then, Miyamoto returned with cake and coffee. As if he could sense the sugar in the air, Akizawa perked up and started fidgeting with anticipation.

“It’s from Salon de Maitani.”

“You know that place?” Miyamoto asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I like it. I buy from there sometimes.”

“Perfect. Please, help yourself.”

At Masamitsu’s prompting, Akizawa didn’t hesitate. He dug his fork into the cake and took a big bite, his face melting with bliss.

“This is amazing.”

Seeing him genuinely happy, Miyamoto smiled in satisfaction too.

“Oh right!” Masamitsu clapped his hands.

“The color proof for the photos we shot the other day arrived this morning. Masahiko, could you bring it here?”

Kusuda froze. This was bad. As he feared, Akizawa’s eyelids twitched at the mention.

“Color proof?”

He asked, suspiciously.

“There’s often a difference between how a photo looks on a monitor and in print,” Masamitsu explained cheerfully. “So when we prepare posters, we do several print tests to check how the colors actually turn out.”

As Masamitsu continued his upbeat explanation, Kusuda could feel the cheerful energy draining right out of Akizawa.

“It came out beautifully. Akizawa-san, are you familiar with the men’s fashion magazine SCORPIO? The ad campaign will go public in early January, but we’ve arranged for an advance feature in that magazine. As for SCORPIO, the publisher will be sending a preview copy to your agency—”

“Um!”

Akizawa cut Masamitsu off with a sharp, tense voice.

“I really, really hate that photo.”

His fingers twisted nervously, fidgeting with each other.

“During that shoot, my head was spinning. I don’t even remember much—I was furious, embarrassed, and completely out of control. That’s why having that moment turned into a poster is just… horrible. I hate it. I really want you to stop…”

Silence swallowed the room.

The only sound was the wind rattling the windows.

Kusuda opened his mouth to step in and smooth things over—but was cut off.

“Masahiko, bring the color proof,” Masamitsu said quietly.

“But…” Kusuda hesitated.

“I said bring it.”

Still anxious, Kusuda handed over the color proof he’d been hiding at his desk. Masamitsu had Miyamoto clear the table of cake and coffee dishes, then spread the poster out face down.

“I understand how much you hate this, Akizawa-san. But I’d like to ask you to look at this not as a photo of Kaito Akizawa, but as a photo of someone else—someone you don’t know.”

Akizawa frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“I mean, imagine it’s someone else in the photo. I’d like to hear your objective opinion, as if you’re evaluating a stranger. When you’re ready, please turn the poster over.”

Akizawa stared at the reversed poster but didn’t move his hand. Masamitsu didn’t pressure him, simply waited.

Five… maybe ten minutes passed before Akizawa finally, cautiously, reached out with a trembling hand and turned it over.

A man’s silhouette running into the rain.

When they had decided to print two versions of the poster, Tohru had insisted this composition would be perfect as a counterpart to the close-up. Akizawa’s figure was small, the product not even visible. Kusuda had hesitated, but ultimately trusted Tohru’s instincts. Just like in their previous collaboration, the product image had been added separately, like a logo, to balance the layout.

Akizawa turned it face up, but didn’t open his eyes. He just kept them shut. Slowly, he began to blink, and eventually faced the image of himself head-on.

“…Looks like a movie poster.”

The words fell softly from Akizawa’s lips.

“You can’t really tell it’s me,” he added.

“Would you prefer it to be recognizable?” Masamitsu asked gently.

Akizawa didn’t answer.

“I think the unpolished quality of this photo is what makes it incredible.”

“But…” Akizawa glanced at him.

“It’s just… it’s different. I mean, if it’s not calculated, then it’s not acted, right? It’s just me, looking like an idiot, angry and out of control… and that’s what’s going to be all over the city…”

Kusuda finally understood. Akizawa wasn’t simply embarrassed by the image—this wasn’t about vanity. For him, these photos were a reminder of his lowest moment. To turn them into a public campaign would mean reliving that mistake over and over again.

“I know photography captures reality,” Masamitsu said quietly, “but it also reflects illusion.”

“This poster may not show you ‘acting,’ Akizawa-san. But that’s not a flaw. We’re not looking for someone who acts—we’re looking for someone who embodies what CRUX stands for. I can only guess what kind of emotional state you were in when this photo was taken. But the ‘Kaito Akizawa’ in this image does embody the brand. That’s exactly what I wanted. What we were all looking for in you.”

Akizawa stared at Masamitsu, wary but attentive.

“…Please have more confidence in yourself. And instead of boxing yourself into categories like model or actor, I hope you’ll continue working with CRUX simply as yourself—as Kaito Akizawa, the person.”

Akizawa muttered, “I-I…” and suddenly began fidgeting, rocking his upper body nervously.

“I’m not smart… In high school, I almost had to repeat a year because of bad grades. And everyone says if I quit acting, I’ve got nothing left going for me… so I figured… if I’m not an actor, I’m worthless…”

“That’s not true. You’ve already saved at least one jewelry designer.”

The line was so cheesy Kusuda nearly laughed—but Akizawa was staring at Masamitsu with something like awe.

“Lately, I haven’t been able to come up with a single design. Total creative block—a classic slump. But I have employees, a brother, a whole company depending on me. I had to make something. But I couldn’t. I started doubting my own talent. It was so painful, I even considered quitting as a designer altogether. But I still wanted to keep doing this job. And after a lot of thinking, I decided I wanted an image model who could grow together with the brand. Then I saw your photo, Akizawa-san—and it hit me like a bolt of lightning.”

Masamitsu made a gesture as if grabbing something from the air, then pulled it dramatically to his chest.

“The frustration, the anger, the desperation… all of it flew straight into me, and suddenly it was like the world exploded before my eyes. The slump just vanished. Ideas started flooding my head again—designs I wanted to make, nonstop. Even now, just looking at you, more and more ideas keep coming. …You’re my savior.”

He continued, voice steady and sincere.

“Just by existing, you’ve saved a designer.”

Someone, please, Kusuda thought, someone call out this melodramatic high school movie line. But neither Masamitsu nor Akizawa was joking. They were both entirely, painfully serious. As a spectator, Kusuda had no way to intervene.

“The pieces you wore during the shoot weren’t specifically designed with you in mind, but after seeing the photos, I made a few small items inspired by you. They’re just prototypes, but I’ve got them in the workshop upstairs. Would you like to see them?”

What? When did you have time for that? Kusuda glanced at him, startled—there hadn’t been any mention of this.

But Masamitsu pretended not to notice Kusuda’s glare and gestured. “This way, please.”

And to Kusuda’s surprise, Akizawa quietly followed. Masamitsu’s words must have truly gotten through.

Still… this was the same guy who had shown up at Kusuda’s apartment with a knife just yesterday. If he snapped again, there was no telling what might happen. So Kusuda followed along to keep an eye on things.

The workshop on the fourth floor was a single open-plan room about 33 square meters (20 tatami), partitioned by low dividers so each employee had their own desk. The space was designed to feel open while still giving people room to focus. In the back were an electric furnace, casting machines, vacuum defoamers—all sorts of gear, giving the place a laboratory-like atmosphere.

Noticing the place was empty, Kusuda glanced at the clock. It was lunchtime. The staff break room was on the third floor, so people were either there eating or had gone out.

“…It feels kind of like a factory,” Akizawa said, looking around curiously.

Masamitsu chuckled. “Well, it kind of is. There’s dust and shavings everywhere, and it gets dirty. That’s why I’m always dressed like this.”

In truth, he wore the same thing even at home, but he seized the moment to justify his ever-present sweatsuit.

“There’s a lot of machines,” Akizawa noted.

“Since we work with metal, we need to melt it, grind it—those machines help us do that.”

Apparently thinking Akizawa was interested in metalworking, Masamitsu launched into a spontaneous explanation of the casting machine nearby.

Kusuda thought: That’s gotta be boring for someone who’s not in the industry… But surprisingly, Akizawa listened with a serious expression.

Midway through, Miyamoto came to fetch Kusuda, and he left the two of them in the workshop to return to the second-floor office.

They were preparing for a Christmas promotion—adding a novelty item to standard products for a limited run. A supplier had just brought in a sample of the gift box. It was a charming tin container, a little over budget, but Kusuda liked it. He asked them to fix the stiff lid before giving the green light.

As the supplier left and Kusuda was heading back upstairs, Miyamoto asked, “By the way—did you know there’s stuff online saying CRUX’s model is Akizawa-san?”

“Ah… yeah,” Kusuda replied.

Miyamoto crossed her arms. “So you did know,” she said, half-sighing.

“I don’t know where the leak came from, but it’s a pain, isn’t it? At this point, maybe we should rethink the campaign strategy. What if we just go ahead and officially release his name early?”

“I’m thinking I’ll wait and see a bit longer.”

Kusuda actually wanted to move in the direction of an official announcement—but Akizawa’s little knife incident was holding him back. Even though he’d seemed to accept the poster, they hadn’t gotten a clear yes from him about using it.

“Information has an expiration date, you know. I think it’s better to act fast.”

Miyamoto’s gaze stabbed at him like a hundred needles—her unspoken “Hurry up and decide already” hanging thick in the air.

As if to rescue him, Kusuda’s phone buzzed with a call.

“Oh—who is it?” he said aloud, reaching for the screen—then recoiled with a startled “Ugh.”

It was Numata.

“This is Numata from Miyako Entertainment. Sorry to bother you. I heard that Akizawa showed up at your home yesterday. I truly apologize for that.”

The apology was formal and sincere. Kusuda hastily replied, “Oh, no—it’s really okay.”

“I hope he didn’t cause any trouble.”

There was no way Kusuda could tell the truth. “No, nothing at all,” he lied, brightly.

“Akizawa’s like an untrained dog—please don’t hesitate to scold him if he does something out of line… Actually, I’m calling today not just to apologize, but to share some news. Just now, it was confirmed that Akizawa will be appearing on TV again—for the first time in six years. It’s a supporting role in a drama next season. The actor originally cast had to withdraw due to health issues, and Akizawa was offered the replacement.”

“Really? That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Numata’s voice remained modest, but he continued.

“Akizawa actually auditioned for this drama before, but was cut at the final round. We hadn’t heard anything since—until today. Suddenly, they asked if he’d be available. The producer had apparently heard something about CRUX and mentioned the name, so I think the modeling news reached him through the grapevine. If the poster campaign gets buzz, it could boost viewership for the drama too. Whatever the reason, it’s a huge opportunity for Akizawa. His media exposure is likely to increase, so we’ll be sure to have him prominently wear CRUX products when he does. Thank you again for your support.”

After hanging up, Kusuda thought: There’s no turning back now.

No matter how much Akizawa hated the idea, Numata would never let him drop out of CRUX. That meant Kusuda had only one path forward: get Akizawa to agree—no matter what—to using the photo.

“Kusuda-san, you’re making a scary face. Did something happen?”

Miyamoto asked gently.

Kusuda lightly slapped both his cheeks to snap himself back into gear.

“His agency just called. Akizawa got cast in a drama.”

Miyamoto clapped her hands to her mouth, her voice bright with surprise. “That’s amazing!”

“If he’s on TV, his visibility will skyrocket! Make sure to talk to his manager so they send us his schedule and role info ahead of time, okay? We have to get our products on him whenever he’s on screen.”

It should’ve been great news. But Kusuda couldn’t feel happy about it. Not yet.

Not until Akizawa said the words—“You can use the photo.”

Until then, the anxiety wouldn’t go away.

Now that Kusuda thought about it, it had been more than an hour since he’d left the two of them alone in the workshop. He figured Akizawa must’ve gone home by now, but when he peeked into the workshop, neither he nor Masamitsu was there. One of the employees, who had just returned from lunch, told him they had gone out together to eat.

Kusuda couldn’t help worrying—was it really okay to let the two of them go off alone? He thought about texting Masamitsu to ask where they were and maybe joining them, but it felt wrong to trail behind two grown adults, so he let it go.

In the afternoon, Kusuda got busy fielding calls from select shops and the printing company. It wasn’t until after four o’clock that things finally calmed down. Just as he was thinking of stepping outside to buy a coffee from the vending machine behind the building, Masamitsu casually strolled into the office.

“I want to talk to you two,” he said. “Do you have a minute?”

He dropped heavily onto the guest sofa. Miyamoto got up and said, “I’ll go make drinks,” disappearing into the kitchenette.

“When did Akizawa-san leave?” Kusuda asked.

Masamitsu glanced sideways at him and said, “He’s still here,” gesturing upward.

“Wait—he’s still in the workshop?”

“Yeah, seems like he’s taken an interest in jewelry making. Right now, he’s watching Morita at work.”

Just as Miyamoto returned with three coffees, Masamitsu began.

“I know he made a huge scene during the shoot and all, but… Akizawa-san, he’s actually a really pure-hearted kid.”

Kusuda had seen the guy threaten people and lie to get out of trouble. He wasn’t sure he could fully agree with that assessment.

“He’s really serious about his work, too. He told me he wants to keep acting until he dies. But he rarely gets offers—not even minor roles on stage. He said he’s afraid the day will come when he has to quit. And if that happens, he doesn’t know how he’ll survive, because acting’s all he has. He was seriously worried about that.”

Honestly, Kusuda thought, it’s not just actors—anyone can lose their career if they’re no longer in demand. That’s just life. Still, Miyamoto nodded solemnly.

“I’ll be honest—I don’t know anything about showbiz, or whether he has real talent as an actor. But I like him. The way he looks, his vibe. And from what I can tell, what Akizawa-san really needs right now is confidence—and something to hold onto. If he can feel like he can live, even without being an actor, then I think he’ll grow into a stronger person. I don’t know anything about acting, but I can teach him a skill. I want to show him the basics of jewelry making.”

“You’re going to teach him?” Miyamoto asked in surprise.

Masamitsu nodded vigorously.

“You really have time for that?” Kusuda asked coolly.

Masamitsu grimaced. Fair point. Even though the current season’s collection was done, the next one would soon begin. On top of that, they handled made-to-order and repair work, including wedding rings. They had split the workload among the staff, but there was never extra time.

“I’ll do it as long as it doesn’t interfere with my work. I mean, come on—it’s kind of awesome, right? Our image model showing interest in what we make.”

“But let’s be realistic. Teaching a total beginner from scratch? That’s not easy. If you end up dropping him halfway, it’ll just be worse. Better not to start at all.”

Masamitsu furrowed his brow, clearly torn but unwilling to give up.

“…I think he’s genuinely interested in metalwork. But more than that, I think he’s searching for somewhere to belong. He didn’t really go to school. He told me he doesn’t have any friends in the acting world. I think someone like him finds the entertainment industry—with all its politics—really hard to live in.”

Kusuda didn’t know what kind of heartfelt conversation Akizawa had dumped on Masamitsu, but the Akizawa he knew? Yeah, no wonder he had no friends.

“Actually, I already told him—‘Come by anytime you’ve got free time.’ I’ll make sure it never interferes with work. So can I ask you two to help out a little when needed?”

Akizawa was a pain in the ass. Kusuda had had that driven into his bones over the last two days. If he could avoid dealing with him altogether, that would be ideal. Still… if Akizawa had opened up to Masamitsu enough to talk about his insecurities, and if Masamitsu was in the superior position of “teacher,” then maybe—maybe—Akizawa wouldn’t act out so much.

Looking at it that way, helping out with this little “jewelry workshop for actors” might actually be the best way to avoid future drama.

“…If you’re going that far, then fine. I’ll help.”

Kusuda had made the decision after weighing all the pros and cons. Masamitsu, unaware of Kusuda’s inner calculations, smiled cheerfully and said, “I knew you’d understand.”

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