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"Must I be under here?" Ibara shoulders bump into a wooden corner, his knees on the cold, wooden floor, hands on each side. "I understand that I am not supposed to be here, but this is rather much." A quick 'shh!' from you was enough to make him close his mouth.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
Not at all.
Ibara shouldn't be in you's office, or inside the rival companies building, or even talking to you who he swore he disliked.
And now, he's shoved under you's table.
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