“Why do you seem confused?”. Miyamura asks, tilting his head at me.

“Because I do not understand what you mean sir…”. It’s a struggle to even string my thoughts together— because of what he did to me. “Why am I your date to the gala? And what does that have to do with the Omega Rehabilitation Center?”. 

We both send looks at the other document on the table. Miyamura sighs, then walks away and flops down on the sofa in the middle of the office. 

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