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... place, tucked away on a muddy lane behind the tournament grounds, a world away from the roar of the cheated crowd. The air inside was thick with the smell of cheap tea, wet wood, and something vaguely like cabbage. A leak in the roof was dripping into a bucket with a rhythmic, maddening *plink... plink... plink...*
We sat at a small, wobbly table, sharing a jug of lukewarm sake that tasted faintly of the bucket.
The distant sound of the crowd was a constant, grumbling presence, l ...
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