The Scrap Depot I Opened is Full of Regrets
About This Novel
I opened a scrapyard in the old city. Others collected scrap metal and cardboard boxes, but I only collected one thing - regret. I took away the unspoken apologies, the people I missed, and the dreams I gave up, and helped them rewrite their endings. Until one day, a man in a suit and tie walked in and said that he wanted to sell his conscience that had killed others. I smiled: Sorry, I won't accept anything that's too dirty.
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