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As a single Lehman, I live in agony every day, and I spend days humiliating Mr. Kurokawa's wife, who lives in the next room, as a daily slurp in my brain. Again this morning, when I take out the trash in the morning, I glance at the peach butt of Mrs. Kurokawa, whose underwear line is slightly transparent from the defenseless room-flavored dressing, so as not to get caught. It seems that I haven't noticed my obscene gaze at all, and Momojiri's married woman smiles gently forever ...