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... ty! (Middle Part)
Capital City, a certain slaughterhouse.
Red lights illuminating the irredeemably dead bodies of animals, the surroundings permeated with the smell of fresh blood.
A middle-aged, bare-chested man with a stocky frame, one hand cradling a cigarette while the other swings a razor-sharp cleaver, deftly splits a pig open, and with a shake, the foul-smelling organs spill out all at once.
A complete pig carcass appears before him.
Soon, the middl ...
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