Chapter 24 The Small and Terrifying Thing
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The break area had descended into chaos.
Boys were crying; Imperial Guards shouted orders no one could follow.
No one could blame them—young men weren’t supposed to die like this, not in such a short span of time.
It felt unreal, as if I were watching a disaster report on television rather than living through one. I just stared, numb, at the carnage before me.
Only two people remained calm.
”We can’t help them now,” one said quietly. “While they’re being chased, we’re leaving.”
”Isn’t that dangerous?” the other hissed. “That horned owl might come back.”
”It was clearly targeting males. If we stay here, it’ll pick us off one by one. If we warn the other Guards and run together, our chances rise. It’s half an hour to the door we entered through, but if we sprint, we’ll make it in five minutes.”
”Then there’s no choice but to run. That thing’s too strong—we’d need a whole strike team to take it down.”
Trash-san gripped my trembling shoulders, her eyes deadly serious.
”Young Master.”
”…Yeah.”
”I swear I’ll protect you and get you out alive. Forget the sounds only you can hear, forget the dead student—forget everything for now. Just trust us and follow our lead. All right?”
”O-okay.”
Her voice was gentle, but there was an intensity behind it that left no room for doubt.
When I managed to nod, she smiled faintly.
”Good boy, Young Master.”
A moment later, she and her partner left to gather others, timing their escape with two nearby groups.
I could do nothing but shrink within the terror of reality.
I’d never imagined death could feel this close.
Sure, I’d read the numbers—the survival rate to adulthood in this world was as low as something from before the Meiji era. Many girls never lived long enough to grow old.
But numbers had always been just numbers.
Now, those numbers had faces.
Honestly, I’d underestimated monsters.
I’d thought of them as oversized beasts—bears or tigers made stronger. I hadn’t realized how truly dangerous it was, the kind of creatures these women fought inside the dungeon.
Call it cowardice if you want, but I never wanted to come here again. I just wanted to go home and sleep.
”…Oh dear. We’re missing some eyes, aren’t we? My, my—what a troublesome boy you are…”
Beside me, a woman in a bloodstained kimono knelt by a boy’s body—the same boy who’d lost his head in the first attack.
With trembling hands, she gathered pieces of his face and pressed them gently into place, as if she were soothing a child who’d simply fallen asleep.
I felt my mind slipping toward madness.
She was gone—broken by grief too deep to bear.
That boy hadn’t been bad. He and his sister didn’t get along, but he hadn’t deserved this.
Maybe it was my fault.
Maybe he was targeted because I’d talked to him, because I’d drawn attention.
The thought wrapped around me like a snake, squeezing until I could barely breathe.
”—Young Master! Young Master!”
Trash-san’s face filled my vision, beautiful and alarmed.
”You’re pale.”
”Ah… yeah. Sorry. I’m okay.”
I forced the words out, trying to sound steady.
My heart was racing, breath shallow—but talking helped, just a little.
”Stay with me,” she said softly.
”I’m fine. Just… startled.”
”…We’ve decided how to escape,” she continued. “Of the five teams left, three—nine people total, including us—will run for separate exits at once. The trail is about three kilometers, but with an Imperial Guard’s body, it’s only minutes away.”
”Yeah, that’s not going to work.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
From the edge of the dark forest came that same piercing owl call.
”The sound’s back,” I said quietly. “They’re already dead—the ones who ran.”
I remembered the boy who’d fled into the woods alone, driven by panic. A defenseless male, isolated in the dark. And then—
A faint, mosquito-like cry drifted from the direction they’d gone. I couldn’t see it, but the sound was strangely content, almost pleased.
It reminded me of the owls at that café I’d seen online—full, satisfied, cooing after a meal.
Fear rose in my throat. I couldn’t go that way. I tried to explain, but Trash-san looked torn.
”I don’t know why it hasn’t attacked me yet,” I said, “but it’s out there—in that direction.”
”…We can’t hear the sound ourselves. Are you sure?”
”Before that boy was killed, the calls got faster and faster. He heard them too. That’s why he panicked.”
I met her eyes, forcing my voice to stay calm, my body to stop shaking.
I couldn’t let her think I was losing it.
”Please—trust my instincts. Let me try something.”
”…Very well,” she said. “I’ll allow it.”
I stepped away from her, walking slowly toward the dark trees.
The call grew louder.
When I turned and moved back toward the center of the break area, it softened.
So that was it—the creature didn’t want us to leave.
But how could I make them believe that?
They couldn’t hear it. And who would trust the words of a frightened child who’d only been inside a dungeon twice?
”Katakai squad!” another Guard shouted. “We can’t wait any longer. The monster could return any moment. While the others act as decoys, we must escape and call for reinforcements from Ichihara!”
”Wait!” Trash-san cried. “Our Young Master senses something—it could be a clue!”
”So that’s your plan?” the man sneered. “Leave last and make the rest of us bait?”
”That’s not it! He says he can hear the monster’s call!”
”Don’t be ridiculous. The only ones who heard that voice are your boy and that corpse!”
They argued furiously, voices rising.
”If only males can hear it, then why not our lord?” the man demanded.
”I don’t know,” Trash-san said. “Maybe only younger ones can. But if he can tell where it is by sound, we might escape safely.”
”It sounds like stalling to me. We don’t have time!”
The others murmured agreement, tense and restless, waiting for the signal to run.
We were out of time. If they went into the forest now, they’d be slaughtered.
”Then let me go,” a calm voice said.
It was the woman in the kimono—the one who’d lost her master.
Her vacant stare was gone; she had regained a fragile steadiness.
She bowed briefly to Trash-san and the others, then knelt beside me.
”You can truly hear the monster’s voice?”
”Y-yes.”
”Can you tell which direction?”
”I-it’s coming from over there.”
I pointed toward the exit of the break area, at one of the thick bone-like pillars that framed the path.
Every ten seconds, the sharp, ringing call echoed again.
That was all I could say.
I spoke up, driven more by guilt than courage. After all, I was the one who’d opened my mouth first.
”In that case,” said the woman in the kimono, “if I go there and the creature attacks, it will prove your words true.”
”Are you sure?” Trash-san asked quietly. “Our Young Master isn’t lying.”
”I have no strength left,” she said with a small smile. “Even so, I wish to save a male, even if he isn’t my own master.”
”…Understood. If you fall, we’ll see you’re properly honored.”
So she was going into the forest—to test whether I was telling the truth.
Her master was dead, and she was technically just a civilian now. Still, how could she decide on such a suicidal act so easily?
I couldn’t believe how casually people here accepted death. Or maybe it was just the kind of world this was.
But what came out of my mouth wasn’t anything brave or noble. It wasn’t a plea to stop her. Just a pathetic whisper.
”Do you… not hate me?”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
”If I hadn’t spoken up, maybe I would’ve been the one attacked instead. Maybe your brother would still be alive…”
Her eyes softened, and she smiled at me gently.
”Thank you for being kind to my little brother, young master. Please take care of yourself.”
Then she turned and walked away—out of the square, between the great rib-like pillars, into the black forest.
She only managed a few steps before a sharp scream tore through the air. Something small swooped from above, struck her head, and was gone before anyone could see it.
It was so fast I didn’t even glimpse it.
Everyone fell silent—the escape group, the ones still waiting, all of us frozen.
No one dared move after that. It was decided we would stay inside the teahouse and plan a defense. Those who ran first had become the first to die.
Hours passed.
Now everyone was inside the teahouse, gathering bones and splintered wood from the square to build a barricade.
If they could seal the gaps, maybe they could dull the creature’s next charge. Even if the attack pierced through, maybe it would slow enough for an Imperial Guard to strike back.
”Fire helps,” someone murmured. “Just looking at it calms me down.”
A flame flickered in the hearth, crackling with psionic energy that gave off a faint, soothing glow.
Outside the windows, the world was sealed away behind makeshift walls of furniture and wooden boards.
Inside, sixteen people—male students, Imperial Guards, and Ichihara staff—sat in the darkness. No one spoke much. Their faces were shadowed and grim.
Trash-san moved quietly among us, handing out candy and sweets, trying to lift spirits.
Everyone clung to some small comfort, pretending to rest.
”That thing,” an older sister said, her voice low by the fire, “is like a little god of death. The Forest of Mystery may be peaceful now, but long ago, in the old Kazusa Province, it was one of the deadliest dungeons around.”
”So you think it’s the last surviving beast of that forest?” another asked.
”Most likely. They say elephants, lions, even giant storks once lived there. In my grandmother’s time, anyone who entered the woods was hunted and tortured to death.”
A few of the older women sat around the fire, whispering theories.
I stared at their faces, red in the glow of the flames, dazed.
Then one of them—a woman who had been reinforcing the barricades with silk threads she spun from her fingertips—suddenly slammed her hands down.
”Why,” she demanded, “are monsters even appearing again?”
Her eyes blazed as she glared at a school staff member sitting by the wall. The others nodded grimly, silently backing her up.
”Weren’t we told they couldn’t appear anymore? The conditions for monster manifestation are supposed to be the most closely monitored part of this forest! You can’t have just missed something that important!”
The staffer, a middle-aged woman in a trembling voice, tried to answer while everyone stared at her.
”Y-yes, I know. It shouldn’t be possible… I can hardly believe it myself. I—I’m as shocked as anyone…”
”And?” the spider-thread woman pressed.
”And—what?”
”That’s it?”
”I… yes. I mean, I’m shocked too.”
The woman looked around helplessly, as if she didn’t even understand why everyone was angry.
It wasn’t that she refused responsibility—she just couldn’t keep up with reality itself.
”Truly, it’s frightening…” she stammered. “I don’t understand how this could happen. Our administration was thorough… so… I really don’t know, I just…”
Her words trailed off into silence.
”That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
The air grew sharp with tension. The staffer shrank, curling against the wall like a frightened mouse.
But the spider-thread woman marched over, seized her by the collar, and lifted her clean off the floor.
”Gk—p-please, stop—!”
”Tell us the conditions. There’s no reason to hide them now.”
”O-of course. I’ll talk!”
”Everything you know. Or I swear I’ll kill you.”
The staffer coughed, gasping for air. Everyone watched in grim silence.
Realizing there was no help coming, she gave up and began to explain.
”The conditions… yes. At first, the Forest of Mystery held only one great beast—an enormous elephant. That was when the founder of Ichihara first settled here. After they defeated it, a few days later, when a young man came to view the remains, the next monster appeared—a stork. It was as if the creature had been waiting for that boy to arrive.”
”So the difference between men and women is the key?” someone asked.
”No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s age.”
”Age?”
She cleared her throat and continued.
”For adults, the elephant appeared. For children, the stork. The next one, the lion, was thought to be random—but later, researchers discovered something strange. During that time, the school had invited people of all races into the forest to test theories. Among them was a woman—a madwoman, truly insane—an adult with the heart of a child. That, they realized, was the condition that summoned the lion.”
”So by ‘mad,’ you mean senile? An old woman?” someone asked.
”No, not that kind. She was an adult in body, but her mind was that of a little girl. A child’s heart inside a grown woman—that was the key.”
Then the staffer glanced at me.
I tensed instinctively, hiding a little behind Trash-san, but met her eyes. There was something cold and accusing in them.
”And so,” she said softly, “the final condition predicted by scholars was the reverse: a child with the heart of an adult entering the forest. But that should be impossible. Minds can fail, but they cannot mature beyond their years. It was only a theory.”
Her gaze lingered on me, heavy with implication.
I froze—but before I could speak, both Imperial Guards stepped forward, voices sharp.
”You trying to blame our Young Master for this?”
The staffer flinched. “N-no, of course not! It’s just—there were rumors. Of a boy who’d stopped growing, whose mind matured early—”
C*mslut lunged, but Trash-san held her back, speaking in a voice like ice.
”We’ve investigated that already. We knew these legends before entering the dungeon. Our Young Master may seem mature, but his heart is still that of a boy.”
”Still,” the woman said weakly, “it’s the only explanation…”
”Explanation?” Trash-san cut her off. “He’s just curious, that’s all. A child eager to act grown-up. You think a sixth-grader’s mind counts as an adult’s?”
The two Guards glared until the staffer’s defiance crumbled completely. She wilted under their stare, all the fight gone from her eyes.
It seemed they thought this was my fault—
that I knew something from a learning simulation and somehow caused all of this.
But as I listened to their talk about a “child’s body with an adult’s mind,” a chill crept down my spine.
That… sounded exactly like me.
If mental age included the years of one’s previous life, then I fit the condition perfectly. I was the very kind of person the legends described—the trigger that could summon a monster.
The timing fit too. If the creature appeared a few days after the subject entered the forest, then it matched the week I’d first visited. The missing people began disappearing just days after.
Both the condition and the timeline matched with eerie precision.
Of course, Trash-san and C*mslut didn’t know that. They still stood protectively in front of me, shielding me from the staffer’s accusations.
The other Imperial Guards, meanwhile, seemed to view the woman’s story as a pathetic attempt to deflect blame.
The boys, though… some of them looked at me differently now—cold, suspicious.
And the spider-thread woman didn’t even bother to hide her hate anymore. She looked ready to tear me apart.
”So,” she snapped, “how long until Ichihara sends a rescue?”
”W-well, it’s… of course, lives come first, but—”
”How long?”
”I-I can’t say…”
”You’re not telling me they’ll just seal off the dungeon, are you?”
”N-no, of course not! Please, stop—! I’m sure rescue will come in a few days!”
”If we don’t know how long we’ll be trapped, we should start rationing food.”
Before anyone could stop her, the spider-thread woman spun her web again, binding the staffer in a cocoon and dragging her out of sight.
The sound that followed was wet and short.
”Did… did you kill her?” a male student asked weakly.
He looked like her assigned master—fragile, gentle, exhausted.
”No,” she said sweetly. “I just gave her a little punishment.”
”Really?”
”See for yourself.” She smiled and gestured. “She’s still moving—only unconscious.”
”…I’m sorry I ever called you a monster,” the boy whispered. “Please… protect me.”
”Of course,” she purred. “That’s my privilege.”
She twitched her fingers. The “staffer” rolled slightly on the floor—but the movement was wrong, stiff and jerky.
Thin, glimmering threads connected the body to her hands. She was puppeteering the corpse.
The boy didn’t notice. He sighed in relief and drifted into sleep.
Trash-san approached her quietly. “Was that wise? She might’ve known more.”
”What?” the woman shot back. “I did you a favor. Don’t tell me you’re jealous that my master trusts me more than you.”
”That’s not it…”
The two women glared at each other, tension thick in the air.
Then, slowly, they began comparing notes—discussing their psionic abilities, swapping details of their training.
Other Imperial Guards joined in.
For the first time, the walls between regional factions seemed to blur.
I prayed it wasn’t too late for that.
──Creeeeak.
I froze.
That sound—high and warped—filtered faintly through the barricaded walls.
The call had returned.
At first it came only every few minutes, muffled by the walls, but soon the intervals shortened.
The monster’s cry grated like rusted metal, thin and shrill, a sound that clawed at the nerves.
”The calls… they’re getting faster,” I whispered.
Each cry felt closer—like footsteps of a reaper, steady and inescapable.
My whole body trembled.
It didn’t care about our barricades. The walls meant nothing.
”Hey, kid.”
I looked up. “Me?”
”Can you tell when it’s going to attack? From the sound?”
”I… I think so.”
”Can you really?”
The spider-thread woman’s gaze pierced me.
Trash-san moved protectively, pulling me behind her. I peeked out and answered.
”I think I can. Before it appears, the calls speed up—and then stop, just for a moment.”
The woman smiled. A cold, predatory smile—like a spider savoring a trapped butterfly.
”Then tell us when that moment comes.”
”Hey,” Trash-san snapped, “show some respect—!”
But the woman ignored her.
From her palms, threads burst forth, sticking to the walls and ceiling.
The white silk hardened into metallic strands, layer upon layer, until the room became a cage of steel.
Each strand was woven so tightly that not even a mouse could slip through.
It looked like we were sitting inside a ghostly cocoon—an eerie, shimmering web.
Unnerving, yes—but oddly reassuring, too.
”If that’s true,” another Guard said, “we’ll need you to give a warning.”
”Agreed. I don’t like using a boy as our canary, but we’ve no choice.”
”Indeed.”
One by one, the other Imperial Guards turned to me.
”Would you tell us, please,” one said, “when you think it’s about to strike?”
Their gazes were heavy but not cruel.
I stepped forward to the hearth, where everyone could see me.
They were all different—faces, armor, regions—but each carried the same battle-worn aura.
Strong, disciplined women like Trash-san and C*mslut.
”It must be frightening to listen to that voice,” one of them said softly. “But can you keep doing it? We know we’re an unpleasant bunch to talk to, but it might save all our lives.”
”…Yeah,” I said, swallowing hard. “I don’t know if I’ll be useful, but I’ll try. And… I don’t mind talking to you.”
”Oh? Did you hear that?”
A few of them chuckled.
”Kujukuri’s Guard, your master’s quite the brave little man.”
”I’ll take that as praise,” Trash-san said dryly.
”Everyone quiet,” another ordered. “He can’t hear the monster if you’re chatting.”
”Ha! My apologies.”
And then—we waited.
The cries came faster. Minutes became seconds.
Then, suddenly, they stopped.
”It’s here!”
I shouted before I could think.
The room erupted. Boys jolted awake, Guards raised their weapons.
C*mslut pulled me close, wrapping me in psionic protection until I could barely move.
”What’s that noise?”
”Is it coming?”
”I smell burning—what is that?”
”It can’t break through, right? We’re safe! We made it!”
Voices overlapped in panic and hope.
But beneath it all, a scraping sound persisted—something racing past the walls at terrifying speed.
The entire building shook with each pass.
”Come on then,” the spider-thread woman growled. “Air pressure alone won’t break my iron silk. I’ll catch you the second you slow down.”
She gripped her woven nets like fishing lines, ready to strike.
Outside, sonic booms exploded one after another, rattling the barricade.
The wood and steel threads held firm, fused together like a bunker wall.
Still, the circling never stopped.
If anything, the passes grew faster, closer—grazing the outer walls like a blade.
Soon, black smoke began to rise.
The air thickened, growing hotter by the second. Smoke leaked inside, stinging my eyes.
”That bastard—it’s starting a fire by friction!”
As Trash-san shouted, sparks burst from the walls.
The air filled with a choking haze. Flames flared, tinting the room red and black.
”Damn it!”
The spider-thread woman swept her arms wide, and the hardened silk instantly softened—melting back into pliant strands.
And in that exact moment—
something burst through.
No one even had time to react.
The inner wall shattered with a splintering crack, and through the hole burst a small, horned owl.
The Imperial Guards moved fast—faster than thought—but they only caught shadows.
For a moment, someone shouted that they had it.
But by the time their eyes focused, the owl was gone.
A few heads near the breach simply exploded.
I gasped. In the instant I blinked, the spider-thread woman’s right half of her face was gone—just gone.
The elegant, calculating look she always had was replaced by a horrifying smear of blood and torn flesh.
Her hand still gripped the bundle of silk threads; she hadn’t even managed to throw them.
”Everyone—close your eyes!” Trash-san shouted.
She hurled something into the air.
”Let’s see how you like Kujukuri’s scientific flash grenade!”
Before I could react, C*mslut pulled me down, shielding me.
A blinding white burst devoured the world, followed by a ringing so loud it felt like my skull was cracking.
For a moment, I couldn’t tell which way was up.
Everything was white—motion, sound, even time itself froze. My senses died out, replaced by emptiness.
But then—within that dead silence—I heard it.
The monster’s shriek, sharp and unnatural, cut through everything.
And then it stopped.
Color returned.
The world that emerged looked like the aftermath of a bombing.
The teahouse ceiling was gone; debris covered the floor.
Bodies lay scattered—men sobbing beside guards who were missing arms, legs, heads.
The spider-thread woman stood—or rather, what remained of her. Her master clung to her leg, weeping.
”I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Aya! I’ll never call you a monster again! Please, wake up!”
But no answer came.
The owl wasn’t finished.
It dropped from the smoky sky, enraged by the flash, and with a single sweep—another head burst apart.
A Guard’s skull twisted off midair, her blood spraying like rain.
”Another round!” Trash-san yelled.
”I’ll match you!”
She threw more grenades—ten, maybe more. There was no way she could’ve carried that many; she must’ve replicated them with psionics.
The explosions turned the whole world white again—like falling into the core of a molten sun.
”I can still hear it—through the threads!”
A piercing scream tore through the air—metallic, unearthly.
”Got you… I can feel the air where you flap!”
Even in the blinding chaos, the spider-thread woman moved.
Her half-ruined body trembled, leaking threads from every wound, turning her into a bleeding hedgehog.
And then—we saw it.
The monster.
A tiny brown owl, no longer than ten centimeters.
Orange eyes, ochre talons, two little tufts like horns, and a faint crescent-shaped mark on its chest.
Its feathers were splattered with blood.
It flapped weakly, eyes half-shut, reeling from the light and sound.
It was small. Too small.
That was what made it terrifying.
Even weakened, the owl dodged every strand of silk hurled its way—each thread slicing the air where it had been a heartbeat before.
”I made a promise,” the woman rasped.
She was still alive.
Half a head missing, blood pouring, but her voice was fierce.
”I promised I’d protect him!”
With a scream, she leapt.
Threads burst from her skin, radiating outward, gluing themselves to everything—trees, walls, ground—hardening on contact.
”Then die with me, damn you!”
She twisted midair.
Her threads whirled into a spinning web—a shining dome of thousands of lines, sweeping through the forest like a collapsing planetarium.
For a heartbeat, it looked like she had caught it.
But she hadn’t.
The owl darted through, slipping between impossible gaps, weaving through the unbreakable cage and vanishing into the night.
A snap echoed.
Her body hit the ground, neck bent at an impossible angle.
Her threads turned gray, brittle, and disintegrated into dust.
Her young master rushed forward, screaming.
”Aya! Please, no! Don’t die, Aya! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
”It’s… okay,” she murmured faintly. “It’s okay…”
”Aya, please! Don’t—!”
Her eyes were already unfocused, staring at the sky.
”Aya, no! Aya…!”
”Hehe… you called my name so many times,” she whispered—and smiled.
Then she was still.
There was no time to mourn.
While her master sobbed over her body, Trash-san and C*mslut grabbed me by the arms and ran—out of the burning square, into the forest’s black maw.
We didn’t look back.
We couldn’t.
There was no time to count who lived or who died.
Behind us, the owl’s cry rose again.
We dove into the hollow of a massive tree just as that sound pierced the air.
”C*mslut, seal it!”
”On it!”
The two of them yanked thick roots across the entrance, weaving them shut.
The owl shrieked once more, then silence—followed by a thunderous impact.
Something slammed into the tree.
The whole trunk shook, but didn’t crack.
Whatever the wood was made of, it held firm.
”Fixed,” C*mslut panted. “Won’t move, won’t burn, won’t break.”
Trash-san exhaled. “Good. That’s… one problem solved.”
They both sank to the floor, breathing hard.
Leaves rustled under us.
I realized I could move again. My body was no longer bound by psionic threads.
My heart hammered in my chest; I was sweating, shaking, floating in a daze.
I clung to C*mslut’s chest and trembled. I needed to hold onto something real—or I’d fall apart completely.
She wrapped an arm around me and rubbed my back.
”Scared, huh?”
”…Yeah. I thought I was going to die.”
She kept patting my back for what felt like forever.
Reality had shattered. My mind refused to accept any of it. I just wanted to close my eyes and forget.
At some point, I drifted into sleep.
When I woke, the world outside the hollow was pitch black.
Even the forest seemed to have a night and day, and judging by the ache in my stomach, it was probably midnight.
I lay wrapped in their white uniforms—used as blankets to keep me warm.
What had happened after?
I couldn’t hear the owl anymore, but I could feel it—somewhere out there, hidden in the dark.
How many had survived? How many had escaped?
It was too dark to see even my own hands.
I could only hear the soft breathing of the two Imperial Guards beside me.
”…nngh…”
They were sleeping close, keeping their arms around me so I wouldn’t grow cold.
Their warmth seeped through the fabric.
”…Are we going to die?” I whispered.
Saying it aloud made the fear real again.
This was all my fault.
The monster, the deaths, the madness—it had all begun when I came here, pretending I belonged.
”Because of me,” I whispered, voice trembling. “They all died. The rude boy, the spider-thread sister… everyone…”
Right in front of me, Trash-san was sleeping, her face calm in the dim light.
Notes:
• Kazusa Province – A region cited in Chapter 29 dungeon records defining unreturnable dungeons. Serves as a geographic and academic reference for explorers.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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