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... of stale air and muted echoes, rows of chipped desks stretching toward a droning professor scribbling equations on a whiteboard. Kaito Nakamura slouched in the back, his hoodie sagging off his skinny frame, glasses fogged from the damp heat of too many bodies packed in tight. His black hair hung limp, greasy from another sleepless night, sticking to his forehead as he scratched at it, nails leaving faint welts. The clock above ticked slow—11:47 AM, Wednesday—and his stomach growled, empty since ...
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