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When Arita Remaine left his house, Castor L. Celene sat in a comfortable green armchair and propped his head with his hand. He stared blankly into space for a long time before finally taking off his monocle and throwing it against one of the four walls of the room.
— This country... is doomed.
Revan, do we split the debt in half, or do I pay it all myself?
