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Shinjuku's streets never change—the neon still flickers, the jobs still come, and Ryo Saeba is still the same lecherous, deadly sweeper everyone knows. But a single unmarked envelope is about to shatter that routine. Inside: an old photograph from his mercenary days in Central America, and a desperate plea written in a woman's hand. *"Help me, Ryo. You're the only one I can ask."* Her name is Akira. A ghost from a past Ryo never speaks of—a past where he laughed with his whole heart, in a way
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