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... und, and even in glass reflections—appeared the image of little girls carrying small pumpkin lanterns and sporting pigtails.

They stared at Uncle Gun, their delicate hands reaching out from all directions towards him.

At first glance, it seemed like slender white mushrooms had sprouted everywhere, intersecting and grasping for his bald head.

Uncle Gun’s somewhat plump figure moved nimbly, an unexpected feat in such a dense array of shadows.

Almost no one could jum ...

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