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... tely transformed.
It was as clean as if it had been rubbed lightly with soap, and a soft white light came out.
The spires and roofs were painted a reddish color, as if sprinkled with cyclamen petals, in contrast to the walls.
It was far from vivid red, more like dabbing soft pastel paint with a brush.
The roof on which I was standing changed like that, and it felt like I was stepping on a flower.
It was as if time turned back to right after the construction of Cycla ...
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