The Baby Sun had been gone for a week, and nothing had spontaneously combusted, been covered in pink sludge or played disturbing music in that time. Mikami had finally accepted that it probably wasn't going to, and that the world around Hogwarts had returned to - comparative sanity.
Which left him free to think of other things. Specifically, the
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The representative for Szechuan cuisine, my own Iron Chef Chinese, was the final victor.
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My apologies. I won't ask what changed. But I'm sorry to hear that.
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