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Summary
Akechi's smile changes. “You know Pavlov, yes?”
“Of course.”
“When I was 17, I met a boy, and now he salivates at the idea of misery.”
“And you wish to… make amends with him?” His therapist posits hopefully.
“Amends would be the electric chair,” Akechi comments blithely. “He’s making me breakfast in exchange for my cooperation.”