The Wistful Asylum
Chapter One Kaito Fujiwara was thirty-four years old, and his hands shook so violently that he could barely hold a pencil without it rattling against the desk like a loose tooth in a jaw. The radiator in the corner of his walk-up apartment in the Tōhoku farm belt knocked a rhythmic, metallic clatter against the cold air, a sound that seemed to measure out the seconds of his dwindling life in...
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