The Pale Garden
I The deadline for the census registration was three days away, and the rain had not stopped for a week, soaking into the plaster of the Hoshino Clinic until the walls wept a damp, gray sweat that smelled of old paper and rust. Sakura Yoshida stood in the lobby, her hands gripping the edge of the reception desk, which was slick with condensation, while the crowd outside pressed against the...
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