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... until late at night.
The futon has become soft and fluffy thanks to it being replaced with a new one, and I turned over many times inside the fluffy futon.
“…Shikino, Touya.”
I muttered the familiar name. Just at that moment, I recall the smile that the orphanage director had when he stroked the back of my head during the graduation ceremony. I recalled the orphanage director, not my adopted brother’s biological father, whom I had never seen before.
“…Director…” ...
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